Chapter The Third

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(Media) This is the song that Jessie plays. I swear it should be our national anthem! Dave Dobbyn... You're a bloody legend.

"Why do you do that?"

Jessie looked up from her sketchbook. There was about half an hour before bed, so she was lounging on a beanbag in her pyjamas. Eden was one of the newest to the dorm, and was at the mirror, examining her eyebrows. She held up a pair of tweezers and plucked a few hairs, as if she believed it would make a noticeable difference.

The other girls exchanged glances. They'd each been through this before and had learnt to just leave Jessie to do her own thing.

"Do what?" Jessie asked, even though she had a fair idea what was coming.

"You know..." She said. "Dress like that. Act like that. Speak like that."

Jessie looked at the haughty girl across the room. She had delicate features and a small, slightly upturned nose. Her slim figure was clothed in a skimpy pink singlet and matching cotton pjyama pants. Jessie glanced down at herself. She was still wearing the rugby shorts, and had donned an old faded band shirt. Her Aunt's son had left home and gone to America long ago, but still had a lot of his old clothes at home. When she went to her Aunt's for the Christmas holidays, she sifted through his wardrobe.

"Because I can. That's how I am. I'm Kiwi." She replied, answering all three questions at once.

Eden still wasn't satisfied. "Yeah but it's just not right!"

Jessie raised an eyebrow at the younger girl. "What's classified as right then?" She said angrily. She stood up and left the room, leaving Eden standing there opening and closing her mouth like a goldfish - she wasn't used to people answering back to her.

* * *

Devon had just made it back to his apartment in town when a thought struck him. He'd left in such a hurry that he'd forgotten to pick up the guitar! He had only grabbed the case. For a moment he almost considered driving back to the school, but then decided against it. It could wait till tomorrow. Besides, to anyone else it would just be another regular instrument. It would be fine. Sure there were notes inscribed on it, but they were difficult to see if you didn't know they were there. He sighed and finally got out of his car. Yes, he thought again. It'll be fine.

* * *

Jessie padded down the corridor, her bare feet sticking slightly to the floorboards. She was sick of this place. The people. The constant questions and criticism. She needed some space. As she walked, thoughts churning in her head, she became more resentful; fists clenching and unclenching.

She found herself at the music room. Strangely, the door was wide open. Usually all the classrooms were locked at night. She wandered in and wished she'd thought to bring her guitar with her. She couldn't just go back and grab it. She was too stubborn. She was going to stay away and let them wonder.

Even though all of the instruments were locked away in the storeroom, Jessie still liked being in the music room. It was the one bright spark in her dull life.

She walked in, then noticed one guitar that wasn't locked away. It was leaning against the teacher's desk, practically calling to her. Begging for her to pick it up and play. She ran her fingers over the steel strings. They were blackened with age, but still produced a bright ringing sound. In fact, the whole instrument seemed to have an energy of its own. But she couldn't play it here. Someone would hear and send her back to the dorm. She wouldn't be surprised if someone had already reported her, and had someone out looking for her. If they knew her, the music room would be one of the first places they'd look.

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