Falling Short // l.h. {#Wattys2015}

2

"I can't connect with the music if you keep yelling corrections and musical terms at me!" I say, frustrated with my mom.
"I'm not here to help you connect. I'm here to help you win," she says in a calm but annoyed voice.
I laugh and shake my head at the complete contradiction.
"It's been an hour anyway, we'll work more on it tomorrow," is all she says before walking out of the small living room and into the kitchen. Last night, after we dropped Alyssa off, my mom wouldn't stop repeating things that were wrong with my performance or reasons why I 'didn't want it enough.' She's always been that way. A perfectionist.
I check the clock, and sure enough, it's already 7 am. I stand up from the chair in front of my piano and head to my room along with Alyssa.
I watch as she goes to the mirror in the corner of the minuscule room that I share with my little brother, Jason, who's still sleeping, and plugs in a curling iron to do her hair.
I start to compare my face and shoulder length, dark brown hair to hers but I decide to stop, knowing it will just make me feel worse about myself. I've always been jealous of her looks. She's so pretty. I know she gets it from her mom and dad, they are both fully hispanic and both gorgeous. They never seem to age either. They look exactly the same as they did when I first met them in the 6th grade: like models.
"I still find it weird that you watch me practice," I say.
"It's because you're so good. You'll definitely win next year," she says. I can't figure out if she's just saying that or if she really means it. That's what everyone has been saying ever since I first started playing. Did they really mean it? If they did, then why didn't I win?
"Why do they only accept one?" I say, as I stand next to her deciding whether or not I should wear mascara today. I decide that I should, and start to apply it to my long eyelashes. The more I put on though, the more I realize that I can't fool myself, this makeup will never make me feel prettier, it will just make me look prettier.
"They don't. They accept one from each state," she says, as if I don't already know that.
"Yea, each state. Do you know how many people live in each state? That's insane! Who even came up with that?"
"But not every person in the state auditions," She replies.
"Okay would you stop arguing with me and just feel sorry for me? Please?" I say, frustrated. She holds up her hands in defense and I hear Jason stir in his sleep. He's such a deep sleeper, I could turn on a vacuum in here and he still wouldn't wake up.
  Alyssa finishes with her hair and starts to put on lotion. She doesn't need makeup like me, she's gorgeous already and she knows it.
We know it's time to leave when my mom comes into the room to wake Jason up. We say goodbye to them and head out to Alyssa's car where we drive the short three miles to school and arrive just on time.
"Hey Alyssa, I just remembered that new movie. It comes out this weekend," Jax says. I go completely ignored as he opens the car door for Alyssa and tries to get her to go on a date with him, again. He's been trying to date her ever since the beginning of senior year, and still has no success. She ignores him and we start to walk toward the front of the school.
"Come on, Alyssa. We can go together. It'll be fun, I promise!" He says, his brown hair blowing up in the wind as he tries to keep up with our fast paces.
She stops abruptly and I do the same. She looks at him for the first time this morning and says with fake affection, "Jax. Let's be real. You're a loser. I'm not. People like us," she gestures between me and herself, "aren't mean't to be with people....well.....like you." She finishes and we turn to walk towards the front doors again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see that he stopped following us. I feel a little bad, but to be honest, he was kind of asking for it. He should have just accepted when she said no the first time. Plus, he's rude. He didn't even bother to say hi to me.
When we walk through the halls, everyone looks at us they way they always do. They try to be inconspicuous but they're all failing. I can feel everyone's stare on us. I don't enjoy it like Alyssa, but I don't hate it either. It's not like it's the bad kind of stare. It's the good kind. The envious kind.
"Boo!" I say to no one in particular and I see some people look away, afraid that they will get called out in front of everyone, losing whatever good social status they have at the moment.

***

"Cute shoes today, Liv!" A random girl walking in the hall, who's name I don't know, says to me, smiling big. I don't put in the effort to smile back at her. Who smiles that big on a Monday? Especially the first Monday after winter break?
  Not me.
During lunch, Alyssa eats in the outdoor cafeteria with all the varsity football players and some cheerleaders, even though she isn't one. I go to the music room to practice the piano.
  I open the door to the music room right as the bell rings, signaling the start of lunch. The first thing I notice is a boy messing with the different knobs on an amp in the corner of the big room.
  I find it weird, because usually Ms. Kane, the music teacher, and I are the only people here for lunch. I start to head to the piano on the other side of the room, but then I stop when the boy picks up the black electric guitar next to him and stands up to reveal his face.
  "You?" Is all I can think to say. It's the boy from the CIPA competition yesterday. The one that saw me cry.
  "You..." He says back with a surprised look on his face, "go to this school?"
"Yes," I say in a rude tone, "why are you here?"
"I transferred here. From another country." He says, as if it's some amazing miracle.
Why would he come all the way to San Diego? I shake my head at the coincidence.
"Please tell me Ben doesn't go here now too."
"Don't worry. He's like twenty," he says then chuckles. He puts the guitar strap over his shoulder and places his fingers over the strings.
It makes me feel a little bit better that I lost to someone older than me, but not that much better. I still lost.
"Why would you come to San Diego?"
"Reasons," he says, and starts strumming his guitar lightly. "You know, you don't seem like the same girl I talked to yesterday."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't know, you just seem different somehow," he says, still strumming lightly.
"Well...."
I struggle to remember his name, or if he even told me.
"Luke," he says, stopping and looking up at me. I am distracted momentarily by how blue his eyes are. Eyes like his have always unsettled me. When people with blue eyes look at me, I feel like they're somehow staring straight into my soul. Like they can see right through me. I find his stare discomforting, but beautiful at the same time. I dismiss the thought.
"Well, Luke...that's good, because that wasn't me," I say, then correct myself. "I mean, it was me, but I'm not usually like that. At all. You can't tell anybody about what you saw," I whisper the last part.
"What?"
"About how you saw me cry. Nobody can know, okay?" I whisper, pleadingly.
He just laughs. Not too loud, but he laughs. I see Ms. Kane stop eating and look our way from the corner of my eye.
"Teenagers, everywhere. Can't anyone ever get some peace and quiet around here?" I hear her old voice mutter.
I see where she's coming from but I don't feel sorry for her. She should be grateful. Some people can't ever escape the noise.
"Why would anyone care if you cried or not?" Luke brings me out of my thoughts. "And why are you whispering?"
"Reasons," I mock him from earlier, but realize that he's right, Ms. Kane is the only other person in here, and I doubt she cares about what we or any other 'teenagers' are talking about.
"I'm serious. Just please. Okay?" I say. I would hate for anybody to know that I cried like a crybaby after losing a competition. Especially since they don't know how important it was to me. I know I don't have to worry about Alyssa telling anyone, I'm sure it would embarrass her more than me. News travels fast around this school.
"Sure," he says, and I am relieved.
  He plugs his headphones into the amp and puts them on, messing up his perfect blonde quiff, then goes back to strumming the guitar in a tune that only he can hear. I sigh and head towards the piano to start practicing.
  When playing the piano, I can't help but think about my performance last night. And how I seem to have lost everything I've worked so hard for. I start to feel that horrible, familiar feeling of dejection creeping up on me, but I push it away and try to put all my focus on the music I'm playing, eager to keep the insulting voices in the back of my head quiet.

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If you're reading this, please leave feedback. It's my first story so I can't tell if it's good or not. Btw thanks for reading<3 - Kesi
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