Tears of the Broken Read Online Free PDF Page B

looking at David.
    “ We
have a name for everything around here,” David said.
    A
loud clap resonated through the auditorium then, and my heart
jumped into my throat. Mr. Grant, I assume, stood motionless near
the entranceway at the back of the room. “I hear we have a new
student, today,” his stern voice echoed off the walls as he stalked
toward us, becoming smaller as he neared. With a voice so booming,
I’d have imagined him to be tall—but he’s amusingly short and
round. I tightened my lips to hide the tickling hilarity of his
ponytail, gathered at the nape of his neck, tugging heavily on the
few straining blonde hairs that clasped for dear life around the
edges of his bald spot. Stylish .
    David slid his hand out from under my backpack and smiled as
Mr. Grant waltzed over and studied my face with a raised brow.
“Miss Thompson, I presume?” His accusing glare burrowed into my
soul while his harsh tone screamed pretentious
butt-head.
    My
self-amusement over his appearance turned into fear and dried my
throat. As if I’m not nervous enough already, now I’m being singled
out as well. Maybe I can hide under Bertha. “Yes, sir,” I said
softly, dying to look away from his icy stare.
    “ And
what will you be playing for us today, Miss Thompson?”
    “ Uh.
Playing?” Did I hear him right? Surely he doesn’t expect me to play
for him, today?
    “ We expect a performance from all our students on the
first day, Miss Thompson.” He grinned, cupping his hands together
as he looked around the class.
    He is evil.
Two-headed monster was a kind assumption for this guy. I nodded
once to myself. Right, nice of someone to warn me about this. I’m
totally unprepared.
    Everyone in the class waited for me to respond, or maybe to
run away crying. A few of them even laughed among themselves. I
wonder if this is why David didn’t tell me about our next class.
Oh, but, wait, he’s here with me, so that makes it all better,
right? By the way— that was sarcasm.
    Mr.
Grant stood back from his lean toward me, and I looked at David,
who just smiled and tipped his head forward in a slight nod. He
knew this was coming! But I have to admit, seeing his face does
make it better. A little. Mind you, it hasn’t helped the fact that
I’m standing in front of the whole class, with my mouth gaping,
completely unable to find the power to speak—or move, for that
matter.
    “ If you please, Miss Thompson. Or would you
like some sheet music?” Mr. Grant offered me a seat at the piano with an
arrogant grin across his tight lips.
    Trying to stall, I shuffled out of the straps of my backpack
and went to dump it on the ground.
    “ I’ll take this for you.” David grabbed it and flung it over
his shoulder.
    “ Uh, thanks,” I said. Okay, what now? I have
no more distractions. Guess I’m gonna have to play. Well, either that or
burst into tears. But there’s no way I’m going to let this
know-it-all music professor make me cry in front of all these kids.
I’m sure he’s reduced many a student to tears in the past, and it’s
time somebody taught him a lesson. If there’s one thing I hate in this
world more than anything, it’s people using their talents or
skills, or worse, knowledge, to make other people feel small. And that’s
exactly what Mr. Grant’s doing to me. And it worked. I do feel
small.
    Everyone watched. I hesitated beside David, secretly
picturing myself running away, swiping the tears from my cheeks as
I escape from this nightmare, slamming the doors behind
me.
    But,
instead, I exuded confidence for the first time today and
positioned myself on the piano stool. David rested his elbows on
the top of the piano and smiled at me. I did not smile
back.
    Thanks for the heads-up, David. I wish he’d told me this
would happen—then I could’ve left before class started. Mr. Grant,
standing uncomfortably close, watched me lift the cover from the
keys and reposition my stool so I could reach the foot pedals, then
he