A Season of Eden Read Online Free PDF Page A

that’s all.”
     
    He snickered. “Sounds like dumping to me.”
     
    Sounded careless, juvenile, so predictable. We were seniors. The only thing long term at our age was our future and the uncertainty of it. Nothing else mattered.
     
    “Call it whatever,” I said, my eyes never leaving Mr.
     
    Christian . He was so far beyond trivial stuff like this I was embarrassed even talking about this subject in his room, with his classical music playing in the background.
    Josh hissed out a sigh and left me. Relieved, my heart pounded because I was by myself again.
     
    Finally, Mr. Christian looked up. His blue-green gaze swept the room then flashed to me and held. My breath went still. I was sure his lips curved up a little. Sure there was something in his eyes just for me.
     
    The bell rang.
     
    “Okay guys, anybody know this piece of music we’re listening to?” He waited during the quiet mumbling that followed.
     
    No one raised their hands.
     
    “It’s Allegro , one of Mozart’s most famous pieces.
     
    Mozart’s one of my favorite composers. His pieces are rich, inspiring and unforgettable. So, I expect you not to forget them. When we have a music quiz and I play three minutes of his work, I want you to know his signature sound.
     
    “Every artist, whether he is an artist of music, word or paint, has a signature that sets him apart. How many of you have seen Harry Potter ?”
     
    Hands rose.
     
    “ Star Wars ?”
     
    Again, hands went up.
     
    “How about Indiana Jones ? Home Alone ? Jaws ? E.T .?
     
    Schindler’s List ? Anybody take a guess at what all of those movies have in common, besides big money at the box office?”
     
    A girl in the back raised her hand.
     
    “Your name?” Mr. Christian asked.
     
    “Lila. They all have sound tracks composed by John Williams.”
     
    Mr. Christian smiled and nodded. “Right.” His body grew more electric as he continued. “And if you really listen to them, you’ll catch the common construction of his notes and chords that give the work his unique signature.
     
    “My hope is that you will become intimately familiar with some of the great founding fathers of classical music.”
     
    It was as if he’d swallowed the moon, the way his skin lit from inside. Infectious. I leaned toward him in my seat.
     
    “I know what you guys listen to because I listen to some of it myself. Think of music like you think of eating.
     
    There’s meat and potatoes, very hearty basic comfort food that sticks to your bones and nourishes you. Then there’s fluff. Chips, dessert, junk food. Stuff that won’t make you healthy but you prefer because it’s quick and there. I want you to hunger for the meat. To explore classical and other types of music that can really satisfy that deep need we all have inside to be filled.”
     
    His face was animated with passion when he spoke of this. He was right. Hip Hop, Pop, Funk, were all crap compared to the complex orchestrations we were listening to now. This music soared, leapt and parked itself inside whether you invited it to or not.
     
    “Man this stuff puts me to sleep,” Josh said from the back. I turned and glared at him.
     
    “Maybe at first.” Mr. Christian rested his hands on the black music stand. “You’re not used to it. It’s like hearing another language. Because you don’t understand it, you tune it out. It doesn’t reach you as quickly as something with a pounding beat. Again, think of junk food versus something substantial that takes time to savor.”
     
    “I’d get indigestion listening to this stuff,” Josh mumbled. The class laughed. I didn’t like that they were laughing at Mr. Christian’s excellent analogy.
     
    “Some of you may have more – immature – digestive systems.” Mr. Christian smiled a teasing grin.
     
    Josh snickered. “You can’t do anything to this stuff.”
     
    Laughs and murmurs followed.
     
    Mr. Christian looked confused.
     
    I shifted in my chair. I wanted