The Melody of Pip Winter

2: La Campanella

Sleep had always been a difficult task. If difficult meant a suffocating force that could start storms and bleach eyes with tire. Difficult was strained red eyes and mussed stale ginger hair. Difficult was writing meaningless words on dead bark and whispering truth to an imaginary stranger. To Pip Winter difficult meant impossible and sleep meant pointless.

That morning was the same as the last six thousand two hundred and five. His alarm woke him up from being awake and he dressed himself in the clothes he had planned for the day. He clambered down the rickety stairs and stumbled into the kitchen. Pip then prepared his toast which exactly two minutes later he would butter and cut them into triangles.

His mum had left two hours before his alarm rattled as she worked in a bakery. After Pip had filled his stomach with yeast and dairy he left the flat and locked it with his key that was hooked on a chain with a plastic cat on it.

He fished for his ear phones in his sky blue trousers, the list tucked beside them and pressed the device into his listening ears. The scattering of piano keys latched onto his ear drums as his feet pattered rhythmically.

Cracked pavements and bustling streets lead Pip Winter to his loud school. As usual he was twenty minutes early and the gate was still waiting tiredly for the rest of the school population.

He waddled coldly to the music room. It was always empty as most of the students were athletic or preferred the sounds of adolescent screams. The room was surrounded by clear class walls for a reason Pip had yet to uncover. He entered the room and sat on the floor and watched unusual pupils walk down the chaotic hallway.

He sat idly listening to the sounds an arrangement of instruments conceived. He would sit there for fifteen minutes then walk nervously to his locker. The halls were loud but he blocked it out with 'Franz Liszt'. Pip found his locker and fumbled the code into the lock and pried the door open. He placed his faded yellow bag into the enclosed space and prepared his English books.

All was regular until a soft hand tapped his shoulder. The touch produced a wave of irritation on his skin despite it being boarded up by jumpers. He never liked the lightness of human touch all that much, he didn't find it to be necessary and the beauty of touch was ruined for him. He could barely manage his mothers press.

Before he turned to see the odd presence he plucked the list from his pocket. He unraveled it and eyed the first mission.

He eventually turned and looked at the stranger. His eyes were oceans or roaring blue seas and his hair was rough with ink black curls. His skin looked sensitive and almost delicate. The boys nose was buttoned and his eye brow was raised inquisitively.

Pip snatched the music from his ears to hear the question the stranger was preparing to ask. The sounds of life filled his body with relentless and sharp nerves.

"Do you know where loc-

"Would you be my friend?" He asked cutting the stranger off.

His features changed to create an odd intangible expression. Pip at first attempted to understand but gave up.

"I'm going to take that as a yes." He scribbled on the list.

The boy squeezed his eyes like he was trying to untangle Pip.

"Can I ask?" The blue eyed boy inquired.

The boy's voice was filled with unusual kindness and flooded with tenderness. Pip turned unprepared to beat his record with talking with strangers. He carried his books and walked towards his English class. Once again he was interrupted by a sudden touch.

"I was wondering if you knew where locker 36 was?" The stranger asked.

Pip turned again and swallowed the immense amount of stress his throat was carrying. He pointed towards the strangers locker.