Page 57 of Fostering Chemistry
I spoke a little louder. “I said, what do you mean?”
Cody shook his head. “Not now. Last week. Aaron told me you had a nightmare.”
Oh. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. “Did he tell you what it was about?”
“No. He just said you were upstairs in the room next to mine.” Cody’s voice was so low I could barely hear him. “He said you shouted, and I didn’t hear it.”
I still wasn’t seeing the problem. “It’s okay. Aaron and Diego did, and they came running.”
“You were right next to my room.”
“So? I’m okay. People came to help. You probably didn’t hear because you were listening to music.”
“Exactly.” His voice was bitter.
Was he mad at himself? “You couldn’t have known a friend would have a nightmare in the empty room next to yours.”
“Because I had my headphones on. Like always.”
“You’re a music major—you’re supposed to listen to music.”
“I’m majoring in audio production, and I’msupposedto fucking hear if someone’s screaming in the very next room.”
For Cody, it was a long sentence, but it made my chest ache. “I’m fine. I think it’s great that you’re always listening to music.”
He cocked his head to the side doubtfully. “Why?”
“Because we need music. Hearing it makes us feel better. Like, say, if a friend let me listen while he practiced. That would make me feel better.” I said that as if unaware that we were a hundred yards from the music building.
“I have to practice,” he muttered, not getting that that was the point.
“I know. Can I listen?” Perhaps being direct worked better than hints with Cody.
“Why?”
“Because I’d really like to.” I jumped back in before he could say something. “Don’t say ‘why’ again. Just say ‘sure.’ Please?”
His light blue eyes stared right through me, as I waited somewhat less than patiently.
Finally, he spoke. “Sure.”
Grinning, I walked with him toward the building.
Cody’s manner changed as he led me through the hall of the music building. It was like he was standing taller or something. More confident, perhaps. This was his turf, and it showed.
We went up two flights of stairs to a hallway with little rooms the size of cubicles on either side. Through a small glass panel in the door, I could see that some were empty. Some had students practicing a variety of instruments, and some held pianos.
He led me to one with a piano. It was a small room, and Cody went in first, sitting at the piano and sliding to the right. He patted the bench next to him.
There wasn’t a lot of room, but I set my book bag down on the floor and settled onto the bench next to him. The piano looked old but pretty, with its dark, glossy wood and shiny white keys. I smiled at him, eager to hear him play.
He seemed torn about something. “Do you like classical?” he asked at last.
“Yes—if the only other option is country. Are you going to play something classical for me?”
“I was thinking about a duet.”
“With me?” The surprise in my voice echoed around the small room.
