SEPTEMBER 17TH, 2015

Sadly for the Three Spies, they couldn’t get any leads regarding the Bellevue gang on account that Principal Jackson, VP Hardict, or both of them always caught them in the act, resulting in detention for three weeks. Hey, I had originally called it in the first place and it was a 50/50 chance. Like I said, curiosity kills the cat and satisfaction sometimes never brings him back.

As for me, well, things were relatively quiet for the next several days. I enjoyed the company of the football team as they played their first game of the season (they won 50-0 against some visiting school from central Georgia), went on a mini-shopping excursion with Maddie’s friends Cara and Liane Sawyer, and spent time with my parents. It felt like that things were finally settling down for the moment and that I was finally blending in quietly with the other students. That is, until the Thursday of the following when I got off the bus and saw a glowing Zach and Ava who had informed me that they would start accompanying me to my classes from now on, my orders of none other than Principal Jackson and VP Hardict. Oh, chicken beaks!

“It’s the least we could do regarding what happened last week,” Ava said, fluttering her long eyelashes as she and her beau herded me across the courtyard and ignored the looks of concern from my usual group. “Besides, a little change of scenery would do you much good.”

“Yeah, bro,” Zach said, smirking as he handed me a bottle of iced tea. “A pure vessel like you needs the right liquids to fully shine like the sun.”

Pure vessel? Right liquids? What in the name of the fricking Alamo? Am I a man or a vase? “Uh, that’s not really necessary,” I said. “I can handle my own.”

“Don’t be so modest,” Ava purred. “If only you could see what we do. Just look within your soul.”

They made idle chit-chat while I listened until we reached Lanier’s classroom where she was feeling like she was greeted by Kate Middleton herself. “Thanks, kids,” she said graciously. “I’ll enrich Mr. Reeves’ learning curve.”

“Don’t overdo it, Ms. Lanier,” Zach said teasingly, but there was a bit of seriousness in his eyes. “Let him relax a bit.”

“Of course. He is the next best thing, after all.”

Wonder what she meant by that? Hmm…

Homeroom as well as English Lit flew by without any delay, but once again as I headed towards study hall at the library I was greeted by the Delgado twins, this time dressed in all black Perry Ellis. “Come with us for the class, amigo,” Carlos said. “Jackson cleared you for the day.”

“Uh,” I only said, looking uneasily at Mrs. Ross, the study hall coordinator who smiled at me and nodded. “Okay.”

The two happily led me through the hallways until we reached the empty contemporary-decorated band room and the twins ushered me in front of a white baby grand Yamaha piano.

A wave of nostalgia hit me as I remembered how my mom’s late friend Mrs. Bentley would teach me piano when I was eight years old. The tough old bird, God rest her soul, didn’t show me any compassion as she led me through the scales, moving up to simple pieces and onto the great works of classical players from Mozart to Schubert to Rachmaninoff. She died peacefully in her sleep a year before I came here to California. The doctors said that she had arrhythmia.

“We take it you know how to play, right?” Juan asked me earnestly.

I felt a warm burst of energy flow within me as I nodded. “It’s been too long since I played, though,” I said.

“Well, how about a semi-private concert?” Carlos wheedled as he led me to the piano bench to sit. “Give us the best of you.”

I shrugged. “I might as well,” I breathed as I sat down. I took a deep breath. Then another. Closing my eyes, I let the energy flow as I lifted my fingers above the piano keys.

A soft, haunting melody emanated from the musical instrument and throughout the acoustically perfect room as I began the first bars of Chopin’s “Fantasie Impromptu.” I was reeling yet felt more grounded than ever before.

I didn’t know how long I had played. I just kept at it, seguing from one piece to another from classical to contemporary jazz and letting the music take me higher and higher until I reached a spiraling climax with Debussy’s “Clair de Lune” and the closing bars of Carmina Burana.

I stopped, my head bowed down and eyes closed as if lost in a silent prayer.

I heard a loud applause as I opened my eyes to see the grinning faces of the Delgado brothers, Mr. Jackson, the band director Mr. Layfield and his students, VP Hardict whistling and calling for encores.

“What a treat, Mr. Reeves,” Jackson said jovially. “I thought you lost your touch. Clearly you thought wrong, but that was perfection.”

“You must consider joining both the jazz and the symphonic ensemble, young man,” Mr. Layfield said in awe. “It’d be an honor if you did. Tryouts are later on today after swim tryouts.”

I thought for a moment. “I’ll consider it,” I said.

“Mr. Reeves, you are cleared for PE,” Hardict said, her chocolate eyes gleaming as she gave me a model-worthy smile. “There’s something I’d like you to do to practice your art skills.”

“Right now? But Ms. Hardict, the painting style I usually do starts off with doing a pencil sketch of my project following an inked-out sketch on the canvas, and finally I paint the piece, which usually takes days or months to complete,” I said as the vice-principal merrily handed me a set of paintbrushes and led me to one of the easels where a blank canvas was waiting with a set of paints and acrylics of different colors. We were in the student art studio where it is decked out in a way every artist would dream about, from its high ceilings and lighting arrangements to the panoramic windows and the available tools ready for every painter’s whims and needs.

“Nonsense, Xavier!” Hardict said cheerfully as she sat in front of my station. “If you can play the piano with gusto, you can clearly paint an impromptu portrait of me during your usual class, including the break. Like the Delgados usually say, so say I: give me the best of you.”

I shrugged, feeling the same burst of mysterious energy I had felt earlier. “All right,” I said, taking a deep breath and getting to work. Instantly, I was in my “artist subspace,” painting mindlessly of the woman, sneaking glances at her to capture every detail while letting my imagination go crazy. In less than 45 minutes, I was finished with minutes left until it was time for my next class/lunch break. When I stepped back to see the results, I was in shock and Hardict smiled like crazy.

It was the exact pose and look of the vice-principal, painted perfectly and flawlessly with every detail known to her, from her lithe build and cocoa-skinned complexion to her shoulder-length hair in curls and her magenta-colored pantsuit with white blouse.

“Wow,” was all I could say.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Hardict crooned. “And it’s the exact replica of me.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Principal Jackson said, beaming at me in pride. “Well-crafted, Xavier.”

“Mr. Reeves, I insist you enter this into the Tri-County art competition coming up as well as doing another piece after your other duties after school,” said the art teacher Mr. Sandlow. “We’d love to have you.”

I only nodded, grabbing my things and ready to spill everything to everyone at lunch. How the hell did I do all of that? But most of all, what the hell was going on with me today?

Ah, it was finally lunchtime. I saw my usual group of friends at our usual spot who smile at me as I get ready to wind down after a crazy morning that was hard to believe.

“Attention, ladies and gentlemen,” I hear the cheerful voice of Yasmine boom from across the cafeteria as Clarissa came to take my lunch away from me. Or not, I though sourly as my spirits deflate. “As you can see, our hot topic has yet to sing for his supper and it’s now time after letting him go under the radar!”

The crowd cheers in excitement, even my crew joined in. Guess this must be some ritual for the new kids I didn’t know about.

What the hell, right?

I looked at Clarissa, Ava, and Yasmine, who only smiled and motioned me to go forward. “Sing ‘Chandelier’ by Sia,” Ava said, “and don’t hold back.”

The mysterious energy came back and sure enough I was singing the Australian’s greatest hit from her album “1000 Forms of Fear.” And as I was singing like it was my last time on Earth, I was feeling more lighter and more at ease. I wasn’t on drugs, so this was either a dream (which it wasn’t) or just adrenaline (most likely). By the end of the song, the crowd was going nuts, calling for another encore. Even the cafeteria servers, teachers, and janitors were joining in the applause, Mr. Jackson grinning like a Cheshire cat that got the cream.

“That was totally badass, Zay,” Yasmine exclaimed, hugging me tight.

“Language,” Mr. Jackson admonished, “but she is right, Xavier. A renaissance man you truly are. We’ll be seeing you for after school.”

I nodded, taking my lunch with me to my usual spot where my crew was shocked. “I never knew you could sing like that,” Jadalyn said astonishingly.

“Neither did I,” I said quietly. “Can we meet up later at my place?”

“You can’t,” Carli pointed out. “Ms. Hardict told me to tell you that you have to try out for the swim/ dive team, the art club with their Q&A, and the band meeting. Plus, she’s arranging a parent-student-teacher conference afterwards. You’ll be busy and tired after all of that.”

“Ah, man,” I groaned, already dreading this day. “I feel as frazzled as a Texan beauty queen out of college with her beauty regime all up in smoke.”

“You don’t have to tell us,” they guys said in unison.

“Just watch yourself,” Amber said worriedly as she gazed at the Bellevue kids, who were smirking at our direction. “I have a strangest feeling that something big is going to happen.”

“Trust us, Zay,” Maddie added. “Keep your eyes and ears tuned in and let us know tomorrow about everything.”

I nodded. “I have a feeling by the end of the day I am going to find out something that I won’t like.”

By the end of the day, sure enough, I was about to dive into the world of after-school duties for the first time ever as a JMHS high school student. I excelled at the swimming and diving team tryouts (Coach Ryerson was very happy to have me and hoped that I would compete for the Olympics one day), did another impromptu painting session as I did a Q&A session for the Art Club (I did Principal Jackson that time, which made him very proud to have me as a student here), and sat in on the marching band’s band-room session while accompanying them on the piano as they did a tribute to Pat Metheny. All throughout the afternoon, I tried to get in contact with one of the Pep Committee gang, but was shuffled off to help perform any quick errands for the teachers. Thankfully, Carli was there beside me by orders of the principal and vice-principal.

“What do you think the conference will be about?” she asked me as we watched the drill team leave the band room. “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

“Me too, girl,” I said as we watched Principal Jackson, VP Hardict, and my parents come inside. “Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Xavier, how was your first day being in the fray of after-school activities?” Hardict beamed.

I smiled, my “new kid” persona in full effect. “It went really well,” I said. “I made the swim team, as you know. And you all saw me at work at the Art Club Q&A session and heard me play with the marching band. All in all, a satisfying day of my life as an introverted artist.”

“You’re hardly introverted,” Dad said, “but you are gifted. I never knew you still could play the piano like you did.”

“And your painting skills are still top-notch,” Mom said, beaming at me in pride.

“Xavier, why don’t you play something for Ms. Eubanks. She could take a few pages from you,” Hardict said.

“Carli’s a great girl, but all right,” I said, which made my friend smile. “How about my version of Metheny’s ‘Minuano’ with a classical twist?” And with that, the energy from within me flowed as I did just that, adding a few snatches of classical vibes from Mozart and Stravinsky in the mix and reaching a glorious climax with a tribute to Tchaikovsky. And then, I went even further by performing a bit of Sade, one of Mom’s favorite jazz singers.

“Pure genius,” Hardict crooned as I played the final notes. “I knew you were talented from the start.”

“That statement brings us to the main importance of today’s conference,” Principal Jackson said as he sat beside me on the piano bench. “Your parents, Ms. Hardict, and I were talking about your social and intellectual stride and while it’s adequate for the average person; you could do a lot better. And we have reached a decision, one that you’ll like a lot.”

“The boys from the Bellevue gang are arranging a sleepover that’ll last throughout this weekend, starting this Friday. Not only that, you are their guest of honor at Alex’s house and you have graciously accepted.”

At that moment, Alex and JR, dressed alike in Ralph Lauren, sauntered in. “We all heard what happened about you today, man, and this Friday will totally rule,” the latter said excitedly. "Zach and the twins already think you're cool. The others will love you, but you won’t see them until tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow, you’ll be cleared of study hall and PE as Yasmine will take you shopping for some new clothes and a new iPhone. You’ll be back by lunchtime,” Alex informed with a grin on his face. “Plus, Zach will take you over to my place and we’ll go from there. You’re free from attending the home game against South Baldwin tomorrow and the after-party that’s at the pizzeria. We don’t want you too tainted by sports, do we?”

I shook my head no, too stunned by the announcement.

“Great!” Mr. Jackson said excitedly. “It’s all settled.” He motioned my parents and Hardict to follow him out. As soon as they were out of earshot, Carli looked at me worriedly. “Man, they are not going to like this,” she said.

“You think?” I said. “Ah, Texas crackers and Georgia cheese, I feel like a canary being put into a cage filled with hungry lions. I’m doomed.”

Seriously, folks, how is this my life?