Chapter 3
Why do I do this to myself?
The question rings through my head as I sat on the black leather couch in the center of Petra's studio apartment. The persian red walls were lined with silver hooks mirroring either side of her strawberry colored bed. Long, short, wide, thin and even holed too were the flat spatula like tools hanging in orderly rolls .
My gaze fell to the ivory carpet where two miniature clothes racks were placed framing the mounted flatscreen. To the right long thin rods with small loops at the end dangled on the rack. Thin pieces of pink paper were wrapped around each handle. Mark, David, Lukas, Iris, Mason were marked in neat cursive.
The familiar clicking of heels turns my head towards the second rack. Thin fingers wrap around the pine handle brushing against the others. They swayed slowly like tails in a gentle breeze.
Smack!
.
.
Smack!
The thin leather straps hit in a rhythmic tune against her now pink flesh. "You know what this is Kevin?", Petra questions swaying it around like a horse's tail.
"I really don't want to know." I replied barely under my breath, "So...you normally greet guests like this?"
"Only special cases." She cooly replied, "Kevin, did you know you are on the council's watch list?"
"And did you know that I don't know what that is?"
Petra rolled her eyes and scoffed. "Council's watch list is a list created by the student council picking students who could put harm in our schools image.". She swayed the tool in her hand before hitting it gently on my nose. " Guess who's at the top.".
"What about that whole harrassment thing?" I questioned, still trying to wrap my head around this.
"I just needed a cover to make sure you come to me in private and also for the public." Petra states simply.
"If this whole this is just some racist shit I'll withdraw myself- Ow!". Petra bops me on the head with the handle.
"Have never seen how the way you act affects the people around you?".
I give a small shrug, "I mean yeah. I know people around here think I'm a dick but I'm not that bad.".
Slam!
The sound of leather hitting leather echoed through the room. An unexpected shiver ran through my body. "Well Mr Falcon..let me give you one example.".
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It was the early afternoon of the first semester. Moving states is quite tiring already and to top it off my first class is early in the morning. How could this day get any worse?
As I slipped into the first day of jazz studies I took the seat far in the back taking out my silver trumpet . I looked across the room at a Jeremy who was situated in front row next to some blonde girl holding a trombone. She's quite pretty from behind I had to admit.
My eyes traveled across to the teacher. Her long slender frame standing straight as she checked her watch before shutting the door turning the lock.
The frantic knocking on the door caused the teacher to sigh softly unlocking the door.
"Ms. Nightingale I would expect a more punctual behavior from you.". The teacher said to the faceless girl.
"I'm sorry Madam BlueJay I couldn't find my mouthpiece." The girl explained.
Madam BlueJay's thin lips pursed, "Well since it's the first day I will let you in but it must not happen again." She moved to the side letting the grateful girl inside.
The aurburn haired girl eased through the seats and instruments finding a seat right next to me. When she finally got herself settled she glanced over at me and gave me a toothy smile. I gave her a simple raise of hand acknowledging her before turning back to the teacher whom has begun rambling about something.
"Now your first assignment due next week is to write a short piece in your own style to familiarize me with where you are all at. Additionally each teacher has the ability to give a student a Platnium star to whoever piece we like the most. That means big things for upcoming musicians like yourself to get exposure."
Exposure? Why would I waste my time on exposure without a side dish of money?
"Now, let's practice some simple scales.".
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I laid back on the hard bench around the campus back garden. My music sheet blank resting on my lap and my trumpet still in the case. Why stress about something that has no significant benefit to me?
"Can I sit here?", a smooth voice asked. I peered up noticing the same girl from music class.
I gave quick nod before turning my head back staring at the leaves falling onto the heads of a pair dudes making out in front of it.
"I'm Gisele, Gisele Nightingale from Jazz Studies." She introduced.
"Kevin, Kevin Falcon.", I replied still looking a head.
"I see that your sheet music is still blank. Are you having a hard time coming up with anything?" She questions.
"Nope, just don't want to."
I can tell she is tilting her head on the side from the dangling of her gold plated earrings she is rewearing from class the other day.
"Why wouldn't you want to? This is a once in a lifetime opportunity you should jump at the chance a prepare the very best! I know I am and so is everyone else.".
I chuckled slightly looking up to the sky now. "Listen Gisele, not everyone in the world wants to try. Heck some people even make it thier lives not to give a shit . What's the purpose of trying if the universe is going to fuck you over anyway.".
"That's were your wrong Kevin. You know what I think? I think you don't give a shit because you are afraid to fail.".
"What do you know about me anyway. You think you are better than me because you try? Try all you want and see where it takes you." I looked over at her now. Chocolate meets Honey. A fierce combination in the making.
Gisele was first to look away grabbing her bags marching away determined.
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I leaned the best I could in the posture chairs as Gisele was soon finishing her piece. Had to admit it did sound very good. It was like 1920's jazz with a modern spin to it. Madam Bluejay did seem impressed with it aswell.
When she concluded the class applauded which Madam Bluejay quickly suppressed with a lowering over her hand.
"Mr. Kevin Falcon."
I took out my crumpled messily written music sheet from my folder. I could hear some murmurs in the crowd and Jeremy face palming.
I tapped my foot slow and steady on the hard wood floor. The thumping tud of my combat boots backed behind the slow snaps of fingers began to set my tune.
Clicking and Thumping until it felt just right. I brought the mouthpiece to my mouth and blew my slow tune.
When the song concluded the class was silent. I looked around quite confused even casting my glance over at Jeremy who was jaw dropped.
I went back to my seat the class's eyes following me all the way back. The abrupt standing caused the posture chair next to me to fall over. Giselle face was red and eyes watery as she ran out the room leaving her trumpet behind.
What going on?
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"So that happened. She did get the platinum star anyway." I responded crossing my arms leaning back in the chair.
"Did you know after that fiasco she dropped out of school?" Petra countered.
"And that's my fault because?".
"You broke her. You took a future star for this school and shattered it without a second thought.".
"It was her decision." How would I know that would happen?
"I'm going to do what the school board requires me to do.", Petra walks over to the rack placing the leather feather duster down moving towards a the rack picking up one of the long wands which pink tag was blank. "Correct you."
"Your going to correct me by what? Death? Can't say it wouldn't be an enjoyable."
"No... ", she went over to a side draw and pulled out a piece of paper. "These are 13 rules you must follow.", she hands it over between her nails.
Rules of a Falcon
1) Handle your emotions maturely even in face of emotional turmoil.
2) Never belittle someone for having a heart.
3) If you have nothing nice to say , say nothing.
4) Encourage. Never discourage.
5) Others perspectives are more valuable than your own.
6) Never lie to settle your own ego.
7) Strive for something if you want it.
8) Be aware of situations around you
9) Show emotion toward those you care for.
10) Be someone people can depend on
11) Never seek revenge
12) Have integrity not vanity
13) Love yourself for who you are.
"What is this a spiritual journey?" I laughed folding up the piece of paper placing it in my pocket.
"You could say that."
"So if I say break one of these rules. What happens? Going to write me up to the school?"
Petra smiled. "You see this whip here. This is one of the many things I will use to punish you. I will be your 'master' and you will refer to me as Madam when we are in here ", She whips it against the chair as if testing it. "Now that if you accepts.".
"Look I accepted being your boyfriend isn't that enough punishment?". This whole things sounds fucked up and kinda like slavery.
"I don't force people. I give them a choice. You do it this way or back to Florida you go.".
"You can't... oh wait this is my life story of course you can." I feel like I'm being thrown through the dryer.
"So is that a yes?", she questions. She now had her phone out most likely recording it.
"Yes..."
"Yes who?".
"Yes Madam."