The soothing finger brushes my hand had played on the piano was like an electric stroke to my heart as the emotions came to life and whirled around me. I was here in my second home, Michigan school. They had the music room open from the morning till the evening and it was all for me, the black grand piano was there for me and for my mother, who died promising me that she could watch me play. She was a no-show and dad had to tell me that she died when I was seven years old, playing on the same piano.


"You're still here." Alexa Jones whined at me. I flushed red as she pestered me about having the social life everyone was in. Aside from my insecurity that differentiated me from the gorgeous brunette that was my best friend, she was there for me when my mom was gone, we were kindergarten best friends and remained to be, even in our senior year. She had a bright big dimple on her left tanned cheek and forest eyes.


"Shoot, I'm late." I groaned when I stopped playing and checked my watch. I had the first class at eight and it was five minutes ago.


"You're always playing that thing and missing your classes.” She rolled her eyes as I bit my lip in protest. She didn't know the feeling as well as I did. I tried teaching her but that failed tremendously because she would often forget the keynotes I taught her and focused more on her nail polish color.