The last minutes of sunlight were about to pass, stealing the tiny bit of warmth that November had to offer, replacing the sky's red afterglow with freezing cold blue. The room of a peculiar girl was, too, slowly being robbed of its light. This young woman, Stevie, was rereading one of the few books she could find on her aged wooden shelf which, in her opinion, looked as if it came straight from the dump. The loose wooden boards had lost most of their original grayish color and were covered with shapes and drawings, remnants of Stevie's childhood art which were permanently carved into the once pricey furniture.
"Honey? Come here for a sec," an elderly voice came through the thin door that led to the living room. Or the dining room. Or the kitchen. Point being, compared to what Stevie was used to, it was a hellishly small apartment.
She pushed her door open, getting annoyed when her eyes landed on her own painted nails. The polish she had put on clearly wasn't the expensive type she liked, the red just wasn't as crimson, the top layer just not as glossy. And she didn't even want to think about how her dark blonde hair smelled differently than it had with pricey shampoo.
Stepping out of the tiny chamber felt like a relief, could it barely fit her puny bed and that ancient shelf. The latter one was even used as a desk out of missing space for an actual one. The girl's back was aching from not being able to stretch out in the short bed, and thanks to having read one of the Harry Potter books moments ago, she couldn't help but exaggeratedly compare herself to the name-giving boy and his bedroom under the staircase.
She hated living here, and with every night on that stale bed, her feeling of hatred gained intensity.
It had been two months since her parents dropped her off at her grandma's place and left, moving to Europe as their interests changed as spontaneously as always. Their daughter wasn't much different from a puppy - wished for and then abandoned. Taking her with them was too much of a hassle, Stevie assumed, so they left her. It just seemed unfair, an old and shabby apartment building wasn't where she thought she belonged.
A mansion with an indoor pool and artificial sunlight was where she wanted to spend the cold months of the year, had she been sunbathing there just recently before getting hit by this nightmarish change of life. That her parents didn't care for her a lot wasn't new, they hardly ever talked to her - oh how often she had tried to hear them say they were proud of their daughter as a child - but it did hurt to see them leave without looking back.
"I have great news for you," Stevie's Nana interrupted her train of thought. The irrational hope inside the blonde girl immediately thought of moving out of this place, or even better, getting her wealthy life back. After all, saving her little bit of pocket money to go to the public bath with artificial sunlight left her with tan lines, which was unacceptable for someone with her standards.
"The school called and wanted to tell you something exciting," continued the elderly woman and made Stevie's mood dampen. After hearing the word "school," there wasn't much positive she could think of - nothing besides fake friends and bullies would come out of there. Once you suddenly have to move to the poor district and can't pay for other's lunches anymore, people go from being your best friends to writing your name and phone number on the boys' toilet within days. After all, that was everything that mattered. Appearances, money, social standing, her parents had not cared for anything else.
"Oh don't make such a glum face, I'm sure you will like what I'm about to tell you," proceeded her grandma with a coarse voice, not letting Stevie's hopes for good news vanish, "after all, you were begging me to find a piano teacher, right?"
Upon hearing those last words, as if hit by a magical spell, the young girl's face lit up, showing her bleached teeth. While bouncing up and down in joy, Stevie exclaimed, loudly enough for the neighbors to hear, "I can really take piano lessons? Finally!"
Though she had everything when living with her parents, piano lessons were the wish only dreams fulfilled. The possibility was certainly there and her parents would have easily spent the necessary money, had she ever announced this wish to them. After all, spending money was the one thing they were good for and good at. In her way was, as plain as it might seem, her image at school. With rich parents and money to spend, Stevie was very welcomed in the clique that might be seen as "cool" by some, unapproachable by others, bullies by most.
To belong, Stevie, too, had to be cool, unapproachable, and a bully. As much as it might have hurt her - had she been wishing to play the piano for a long time - musicians were an easy target. Picking on the quiet, hardworking, nerdy classmates was simple and well received by the clique - at the same time, it restricted her from fulfilling her wish, as playing a musical instrument fell into more than just one of those categories.
"There is a girl at your school who has troubles finding friends," continued Nana, interrupting Stevie's rather unpleasant nostalgia with a smile on her wrinkly face, "so her mother asked the principal for help. Luckily he remembered that I was looking for a piano teacher a few weeks ago, and as the girl is very experienced, he suggested for her to teach you."
As Stevie jumped into her arms in excitement, she continued and handed the girl a piece of paper, "This is her address. You can go right now or tomorrow after school, but there is something you need to know about your tutor. You see, she-"
But Stevie was already in her own world, running out of the apartment, gripping that piece of paper as if her life depended on it. Although thankful, she didn't like it when Nana explained things, she always talked way too much without anything important coming out anyway.
As the girls' legs were skipping down the stairs, descending floor after floor, she was putting on her thick jacket and mittens. When she finally reached the entrance of the building, someone from the outside opened the door before she could, and Stevie crashed right into the woman.
"I'm sorry... I should have been more careful when opening the door..." spoke the blue-haired woman in a low voice, her long, wavy hair catching the dirty-blonde's eyes. The natural-looking blue color of the girl's hair had the same tone as her beanie and the flower embroidery on the hip of her jeans.
Stevie caught herself staring at the short girl who she guessed to be around twenty years old, barely three years older than herself. She shook her head lightly and spoke, "I-It's fine..." surprising herself by stuttering.
The young woman gave Stevie a smile that showed almost cat-like canines before walking past her, making the baffled girl's reddish face turn around so its hazel eyes could follow. When the slender legs came to a halt in front of Ms. White's door, she snapped out of whatever possessed her and walked outside.
"I was just looking at her unusual hair," spoke Stevie under her breath as she gripped the silver cross that was on her bracelet, defending her actions, trying to convince both God and herself that she had not sinned.
Pushing that matter aside, she took out her phone and entered the address she had been given before sprinting away, blindly trusting the app's orders. Step after step she felt her feet sink into the snow on the dimly lit street, the weather making it impossible for cars to drive.
For Stevie, a Florida which never even got close to freezing temperatures seemed like a fantasy. She had never experienced a winter without sinking into snow up to her knees at least once - although living in that very state. Without having learned about it all in school, she would have never believed Nana's stories about swimming in the ocean on Christmas.
It had been twenty-five years since the failed attempt to counter global warming by spreading chemicals in the atmosphere. Twenty-five years since winters had gotten cold. Constantly blocking a tiny amount of the sun's rays to cool the planet by two degrees, that was the plan. Instead, the particles in the air block rays that hit the Earth in a very oblique angle, meaning only the winters became colder, but those by a lot.
Stevie, who very much disliked cold temperatures, wished people would have been more careful. Lying in the sun and getting tanned seemed more pleasant than having to put on a thick jacket and still getting cold. Lucky for her, the other seasons were unaffected by that incident.
When Stevie's short inner rant about winters and the people who had made them cold ended, she had already reached her destination. She was standing in front of an apartment building of immense height, its balconies fully enclosed with glass so plants would grow on the inside, and a high-security door securing the entrance.
Her sprint had led her out of the poor district, now she was surrounded by luxury that had been part of her life until two months ago. Confident from being where she felt she belonged, she pressed the doorbell of the apartment listed on her note.
"Yes?" A voice came through the intercom.
"Good evening, I'm here for piano lessons with who I'm assuming to be your daughter," replied Stevie, copying the faked politeness she learned from her parents. The sliding door opened by itself, revealing a very modern looking inside.
Stevie dashed inside and up the stairs, not patient enough to wait for the elevator to arrive. She had barely entered the correct floor when she spotted a fake-blonde woman standing in one of the doors. When she stepped closer, the woman spoke, "Xenja is in her room, I'm sure you'll find her."
Without further notice, the woman went over to the lift with her high heels echoing through the staircase before going down. Not getting an introduction nor a greeting was surprising and Stevie felt slightly offended, that old hag clearly thought she was better than her. Who was she to act like she was worth more than Stevie, was she the one who went out clothed like a cheap slut after all.
Stevie pushed her anger aside and went in, closing the heavy door shut behind her. She was too excited for her piano lesson to let that woman's ignorance get to her.
Upon entering, she immediately noticed furniture of elegant shapes and colors, and a very perfume-like smell that spread through the whole apartment. The blonde girl hung her jacket where she saw fit and placed her shoes next to the dozens of pairs that were sorted in a shoe rack, before following the piano music that was coming from the end of the hallway.
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