Chappy 1 The tall building loomed out of the fog and effectively ruined my mood. I could have kicked Malachi for making me enroll here, and trust me, my kicks have broken bones. The Stanchinsky School was, well, expensive. Not that we couldn't afford it, but over 23,500 dollars each for three kids? Two words: holy shit. The high tuition better mean that the dorms are fucking nice. The twins stood a little ways away from us, as if they didn't want to be seen with the hunky “assistant” and their little sister. Please. They were just as new as I was. Soon they'd have to come looking for me, especially when they wanted to sneak out. Malachi pushed me forward. Apparently, the sun was getting to him. I entered the foyer of the school and held the door open for the twins. They walked by me, purposely avoiding me. I guess that they were as miffed as I was about having to go to school with each other. Malachi led us to the office where we were met by who I assumed was the head. He had very little hair on his head, his belly protruded over his waistband, and his brown eyes were small and watery. He reminded me of a rat I had once found back in London. I had been walking around the pier near sunset and had found him burrowing in some garbage. Curious, I had picked him up by his tail and stared him in the eyes. The whole time, he didn't squeak once. It was sort of unnerving, like maybe he understood that I wasn't going to hurt him. Finally, after about ten minutes, I put him back down on the garbage pile and walked away. Anyway, that's what the headmaster looked like. He motioned for the four of us to enter his study, which was so crammed full of books that there was hardly anyplace to sit. Malachi and the twins sat in front of the desk, which was only about two square feet of space, so it had to be uncomfortable. I stood near the door. If there's one thing I hate, it's sitting in a headmaster's office. I always end up feeling like I'm in trouble. Malachi and the head began discussing schedules, and the twins were thumb wrestling. I mean, come on, thumb wrestling? I snorted and turned on my iPod. I sighed contentedly when Sebastian Wolff flowed through the little ear buds. My hands began mimicking the music, playing on an invisible piano. Oh yeah, I was in the zone. Malachi turned around and stared me in the eyes. I about melted right then and there. Damn him. I arched an eyebrow in reply and he held up a piece of paper covered in highlighter marks. I reached over and took it. I smiled when I saw it. Monday, Thursday Advanced Trigonometry Classical Piano Advanced Physics Voice Training Tuesday, Wednesday Song Writing British Myth and Legend Performance Session Classic Literature Friday Symphony Advanced Theater Photography Free Period I nodded in approval and folded the paper. The twins had their schedules in front of their noses and were moving their mouths as they read. I smirked and rolled my eyes. Mr. Rat was motioning towards me while he and Malachi talked. Curious, I turned the iPod down and listened. “She needs to be auditioned, but from her transcripts, she is very well trained. Maybe we could go into the auditorium, and she could play something for us?” Mr. Rat was looking at me hopefully. “Of course, but you'll need her permission. She usually doesn't play when asked. She needs to be in the mood.” Ah, good ol' Malachi. No wonder I loved him. I shrugged. Whatever. Like I said before, I was in the zone. Mr. Rat clapped enthusiastically and I nearly gagged. He had pit stains the size of Russia. Malachi stood up and cuffed the twins over the head, making them get out of the way. We all shuffled out into the huge entrance hall where Mr. Rat took the lead. We walked up two flights of stairs, down three halls, down one flight of stairs, and up a ramp. Two doors suddenly appeared in front of us and I gasped. They were huge! I mean, they were probably fifteen feet tall and one of them alone was probably nine feet wide. For a second, I was home in Ireland, with the huge doors of the castles all around me. I knew I was going to love it here. Mr. Rat let us into the huge auditorium. A glossy black grand piano stood in the center of the stage with a single spotlight on it. I smiled and made my way toward it. I had no problem navigating through the labyrinth of soft, cushy seats. Finally, I climbed onto the stage, heedless of my short skirt. What did I care if I flashed my panties at the four males in the dark? The keys were calling my name. “When you're ready,” Mr. Rat called up to me, “please play an original song. Any length you want.” I nodded again and sat down. Taking a deep breath, I began to play. No introductions, no ado. The music flowed out of my fingertips, quick and slow, rest here, sing here, playplayplay...no drums or guitar, like usual, but it works, softly, get louder now now NOW. I couldn't think of her while the lyrics escaped my mouth or I would have had to stop, and I couldn't afford that, not now, not when I had something to prove. Three and a half minutes. That's all it took. When I'd finished, the twins and Malachi just looked at me. I guess they couldn't really believe that I played her song... Mr. Rat started clapping, but it wasn't just him...I looked towards the doors and there was a boy about the twins' age standing partly in the shadows. He was...gorgeous. Not fucking cute, but beautiful. In that way that made you want to paint them, or sculpt them, or write music about them...my fingers began searching out the notes on the piano. Mr. Rat noticed him too and beckoned him in. “Ah, Mr. Halifax! What can I do for you?” “Uh,” the boy said in a soft, musical voice. “My meeting.” He ran his hand down the cello case he held. “Of course, of course,” Mr. Rat said. He motioned at Malachi, the twins and me. “Mr. Halifax, this is Gareth, Gaheris, and Isobel Beaumains and Malachi MacConluain. Misters and Miss Beaumains, Mr. MacConluain, this is Ezekiel Halifax, our Cello Major.” I hopped off of the stage, walked to the group, and reached out to shake his hand. “Call me Izzie. I abhor the name Isobel.” Malachi shot me a look and I instantly regretted the word choice in that sentence. “It really sucks,” I amended. Ezekiel smiled. “Zeke. I hate my name too.” Behind me, the twins began to snicker. I glared at them over my shoulder, but they ignored me. Instead, Malachi, my savior, took the lead to get us away from that awkward scene. “Mr. Knickerbacker, we really must be going. Thank you for the meeting.” Mr. Rat nodded. “No problem, Mr. MacConluain. Remember, check in is Monday at six pm. Let's get you back to the entrance hall. This school is like a maze,” he added disgustedly. The five of us followed Mr. Rat back down to his office, where the twins, Malachi, and I all bade farewell to the two males standing side by side, watching us leave. I definitely couldn't wait three more days to see Zeke again, and I'm sure Malachi knew it.

The tall building loomed out of the fog and effectively ruined my mood. I could have kicked Malachi for making me enroll here, and trust me, my kicks have broken bones. The Stanchinsky School was, well, expensive. Not that we couldn't afford it, but over 23,500 dollars each for three kids? Two words: holy shit. The high tuition better mean that the dorms are fucking nice. The twins stood a little ways away from us, as if they didn't want to be seen with the hunky “assistant” and their little sister. Please. They were just as new as I was. Soon they'd have to come looking for me, especially when they wanted to sneak out. Malachi pushed me forward. Apparently, the sun was getting to him. I entered the foyer of the school and held the door open for the twins. They walked by me, purposely avoiding me. I guess that they were as miffed as I was about having to go to school with each other. Malachi led us to the office, where we were met by who I assumed was the head. He had very little hair on his head, his belly protruded over his waistband, and his brown eyes were small and watery. He reminded me of a rat I had once found back in London. I had been walking around the pier near sunset, and had found him burrowing in some garbage. Curious, I had picked him up by his tail and stared him in the eyes. The whole time, he didn't squeak once. It was sort of unnerving, like maybe he understood that I wasn't going to hurt him. Finally, after about ten minutes, I put him back down on the garbage pile and walked away. Anyway, that's what the headmaster looked like. He motioned for the four of us to enter his study, which was so crammed full of books that there was hardly anyplace to sit. Malachi and the twins sat in front of the desk, which was only about two square feet of space, so it had to be uncomfortable. I stood near the door. If there's one thing I hate, it's sitting in a headmaster's office. I always end up feeling like I'm in trouble. Malachi and the head began discussing schedules, and the twins were thumb wrestling. I mean, come on, thumb wrestling? I snorted and turned on my iPod. I sighed contentedly when Sebastian Wolff flowed through the little ear buds. My hands began mimicking the music, playing on an invisible piano. Oh yeah, I was in the zone. Malachi turned around and stared me in the eyes. I about melted right then and there. Damn him. I arched an eyebrow in reply, and he held up a piece of paper covered in highlighter marks. I reached over and took it. I smiled when I saw it. Monday, Thursday Advanced Trigonometry Classical Piano Advanced Physics Voice Training Tuesday, Wednesday Song Writing British Myth and Legend Performance Session Classic Literature Friday Symphony Advanced Theater Photography Free Period I nodded in approval and folded the paper. The twins had their schedules in front of their noses and were moving their mouths as they read. I smirked and rolled my eyes. Mr. Rat was motioning towards me while he and Malachi talked. Curious, I turned the iPod down and listened. “She needs to be auditioned, but from her transcripts, she is very well trained. Maybe we could go into the auditorium, and she could play something for us?” Mr. Rat was looking at me hopefully. “Of course, but you'll need her permission. She usually doesn't play when asked. She needs to be in the mood.” Ah, good ol' Malachi. No wonder I loved him. I shrugged. Whatever. Like I said before, I was in the zone. Mr. Rat clapped enthusiastically, and I nearly gagged. He had pit stains the size of Russia. Malachi stood up and cuffed the twins over the head, making them get out of the way. We all shuffled out into the huge entrance hall, where Mr. Rat took the lead. We walked up two flights of stairs, down three halls, down one flight of stairs, and up a ramp. Two doors suddenly appeared in front of us and I gasped. They were huge! I mean, they were probably fifteen feet tall, and one of them alone was probably nine feet wide. For a second, I was home in Ireland, with the huge doors of the castles all around me. I knew I was going to love it here. Mr. Rat let us into the huge auditorium. A glossy black grand piano stood in the center of the stage, with a single spotlight on it. I smiled and made my way toward it. I had no problem navigating through the labyrinth of soft, cushy seats. Finally, I climbed onto the stage, heedless of my short skirt. What did I care if I flashed my panties at the four males in the dark? The keys were calling my name. “When you're ready,” Mr. Rat called up to me, “please play an original song. Any length you want.” I nodded again, and sat down. Taking a deep breath, I began to play. No introductions, no ado. The music flowed out of my fingertips, quick and slow, rest here, sing here, playplayplay...no drums or guitar, like usual, but it works, softly, get louder now now NOW. I couldn't think of her while the lyrics escaped my mouth, or I would have had to stop, and I couldn't afford that, not now, not when I had something to prove. Three and a half minutes. That's all it took. When I'd finished, the twins and Malachi just looked at me. I guess they couldn't really believe that I played her song... Mr. Rat started clapping, but it wasn't just him...I looked towards the doors, and there was a boy about the twins' age standing partly in the shadows. He was...gorgeous. Not fucking cute, but beautiful, in that way that made you want to paint them, or sculpt them, or write music about them...my fingers began searching out the notes on the piano. Mr. Rat noticed him, too, and beckoned him in. “Ah, Mr. Halifax! What can I do for you?” “Uh,” the boy said in a soft, musical voice. “My meeting.” He ran his hand down the cello case he held. “Of course, of course,” Mr. Rat said. He motioned at Malachi, the twins and me. “Mr. Halifax, this is Gareth, Gaheris, and Isobel Beaumains and Malachi MacConluain. Misters and Miss Beaumains, Mr. MacConluain, this is Ezekiel Halifax, our Cello Major.” I hopped off of the stage, walked to the group, and reached out to shake his hand. “Call me Izzie. I abhor the name Isobel.” Malachi shot me a look, and I instantly regretted the word choice in that sentence. “It really sucks,” I amended. Ezekiel smiled. “Zeke. I hate my name, too.” Behind me, the twins began to snicker. I glared at them over my shoulder, but they ignored me. Instead, Malachi, my savior, took the lead to get us away from that awkward scene. “Mr. Knickerbacker, we really must be going. Thank you for the meeting.” Mr. Rat nodded. “No problem, Mr. MacConluain. Remember, check in is Monday at six pm. Let's get you back to the entrance hall. This school is like a maze,” he added disgustedly. The five of us followed Mr. Rat back down to his office, where the twins, Malachi, and I all bade farewell to the two males standing side by side, watching us leave. I definitely couldn't wait three more days to see Zeke again, and I'm sure Malachi knew it.