In our music class, a subject that had always fascinated me, the day had arrived for me to unveil a glimpse of my musical talents. As we gathered in the music room, there was an air of anticipation that seemed to hum through the classroom.
Mr. David, our music teacher, began the lesson by delving into various musical concepts and techniques. My excitement grew as I absorbed his words, knowing that today was the day I would showcase my musical prowess.
As Mr. David continued his lecture, I couldn’t help but look at my classmates, who appeared attentive but somewhat skeptical. After all, I had never publicly displayed my musical abilities before.
Mr. David, sensing an opportunity for a student to shine, finally asked, “Does anyone have a musical piece they’d like to perform?” He looked around, but everyone else in the class was just trying to hide and not get picked by the teacher. He sighed, yet when he looked again, he saw one student raising his hand; it was David—the student David, not the teacher David.
Mr. David acknowledged my raised hand with a nod. “David, why don’t you come up and share your piece with the class?”
With my fingers twitching, I made my way to the front of the room. I positioned myself in front of the keyboard, my fingers poised above the keys, and prepared to let the music flow.
Without any formal introduction, I began to play. The first notes rang out, filling the room with a captivating melody that seemed to transport everyone to a different world. The music flowed effortlessly from my fingertips, each note perfectly timed and harmonized.
As I played, I looked at my classmates with winning pride. Initially, they tried to maintain their composure, as if they didn’t want to reveal their amazement.
One of my classmates, Yuno, was whispering to Scott, “Yo, how is David playing so well?”
“Nah, bro, this guy is practicing secretly! He literally got the ussr supporting his back.” Scott laughed.
When I finished, the classmates didn't clap except for Scott, who clapped like crazy. Mr. David looked at me like he was looking at a piece of diamond that he had found.
“Well done, David,” he praised. “That was truly impressive. You have a remarkable talent.” Mr. David clapped and said in his French tone, “That must be Ballade pour Adeline, right? Yet its a bit different; it must also be a rewritten version.” I nodded, my eyes widening at his knowledge.
As I returned to my seat, I sat down proudly. I was proud that I had shown my talent and that I had made the whole class see who I was.
Yet there was one person who was more proud of me. “Ha! Anyone can play that; my little brother is playing that piece right now; he is only 7!"
I tried to hold down my anger, telling myself that Angel Wen was always like this, but right after I held down that anger, she gave me a white eye and laughed: “Hey, David, I bet you can’t play this!” Then she played ‘Mary Had a Little Lamb’. Now, inside my mind, I felt like a knife stab inside my pride of piano. Just such a harmless little song, yet it made me absolutely RAGE. “Yeah? I bet you can’t play any of this!” I played Tokyovania, I played some other songs, and I even played Joe Hisaishi‘s music. She had thought that I couldn’t play any other songs, but I completely overthrew her knowledge.
Yet she wasn’t just going to take the insult. “Yeah, well, yep, you win. I never knew your adoptive parents knew that much about how to teach playing piano!” This time, Mr. David wasn’t in the room, so he didn’t know what was going on. “…nah.” Scott said, and Angel turned to see Scott, Oscar, Ethan Mok all looking at her. “What?” She asked, “Are you orphans also helping this loser?”
“No, we aren’t.” Ethan Mok said, “I just feel like someone’s tongue should be cut.”
“Hey, do you know what animal likes to ask ‘Why’ the most?” Oscar asked.
“What?” Angel Wen asked, “Don’t tell me its a dog like you.”
“Wrong.” Oscar said, then cracked up, “It is a turtle!”
“Well, why?” Angel Wen said, and upon realizing her mistake, looked more angrily at us. All the boys in the class laughed at her, and I could see her seeming hopeless, sad, scared, because in this class, you make one mistake? We will remember it for 1 whole year or more. She sat back in her seat, and stopped talking with that cursed mouth of her’s.