Page 12 of The Music in Me

Another flash of excitement that I covered with a roll of my eyes. “Can we start popping balloons now?” I asked, bouncing on my feet.

“Easy,” he said, pulling his goggles over his eyes. “Okay, do you need any tips on how to throw a dart?”

“No,” I smirked. Picking up a dart from the box in his hand, I sent it sailing through the air and gasped when it popped the balloon and sent yellow paint splashing everywhere. “Did you see that?!” I exclaimed to Leon, bouncing from foot to foot excitedly.

“Nice shot,” he said, “but minus five points for not waiting for my permission to throw.”

“What?”

“That’s right,” he said. “Now, are you going to listen to me or do what you want to?”

“You’re sucking all the fun out of this,” I grumbled.

“Not if you do what I want.” He took my hand and pulled me back from the canvas a few feet. “Now, let’s try that again.” He handed me a dart. “How about we aim for the yellow balloon in the corner.”

“Piece of cake,” I replied, collecting the dart and lining up my shot. I threw the dart at the canvas and watched it sail through the air and miss the balloon by a few inches. We both groaned in disappointment.

“Well, you get points for hitting the board at least,” he said, and I scowled at him. “Want to try again?” he asked, offering me a dart.

“Of course I want to try again,” I said, taking the dart from him and throwing it at the yellow balloon. It hit the target this time, but my celebration ended very quickly when the balloon bounced around and didn’t pop. “What happened? I got that balloon. You saw it, right? My dart touched the balloon.”

“Need a little more force than that, baby,” he said as he handed me another dart. “How about this time you imagine the face of someone you hate when you throw the dart at the balloons?”

I raised a brow. “You know exactly who I’m going to imagine.”

“Maybe,” he replied with a shrug. “Just a suggestion. Don’t forget. You don’t do well on this test, and Daddy will have to punish you tonight when we review your performance for the day. We don’t want that, do we?”

“No.”

“Come on,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder and turning me around to face the board. “Whose face are we sending this sharp pointy dart into?”

As I faced the balloon, there was only one face in mind, and I pulled my hand back and flung the dart with all the force I could. It sailed through the air, and I felt a deep sense of satisfaction as I watched yellow paint splash all over Anthony’s face. But it was not enough. I wanted more darts, wanted more balloons exploding all over his face.

“Next target,” I said, holding my hand out.

“How about you pick the next target,” Leon said as he handed me the next dart.

I picked the biggest balloon on the board and sent a dart, tapping into a rage I didn’t even know I was carrying around. Watching balloon after balloon explode was therapeutic, sending paint splashing across the canvas and dripping down to the floor. I used up all the darts, and Leon walked to the board and pulled out the ones I’d thrown.

He returned to me, and I continued until just one balloon remained. I stopped and turned to Leon. “I think you should do this one,” I said, returning the dart to him. “You know, that way we can see we made it together.”

“Not my art to make, baby,” he said, pushing my hand away. “This is all you, Kira. I’m just here to make sure you get the tools you need to stay true to yourself.”

I turned to the board, and as I prepared to throw the last dart, I realized I had no more rage left. At least, not the red-hot kind I’d started out with. I threw the last dart and felt my lips curl triumphantly as it went splat and splashed pink paint all across the board. I stood looking at the board, stunned by the chaotic masterpiece we had created.

Colors danced in abstract patterns, each splatter telling a different story, and as I stared at it, I felt a sense of wisdom and freedom.

“What do you think?” I asked as Leon slid his arms around my waist and pulled me close to his body. “Did I get it right?”

“Can’t answer that,” he replied. “Only you can decide if you did. One thing I will say is that it looks beautiful. Like you…”

“Like me?”

He nodded, sliding one hand up my body until it was wrapped around my throat. “Look at all those colors, baby girl. See how beautiful you are when you break free of the things holding you back. You don’t fit into one box, baby. I hate that you let him make you think you did.”

“I think I wanted to,” I replied softly, not bothering to pretend I didn’t know who it was he spoke of. “It was easier in some ways to let him decide that for me.”

He turned me around to look up at him. “That’s his loss. Not that I mind because it meant he never got to experience the full length of the beauty of who you are, baby girl. That belongs to me.”

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