Chapter Three

                The walking cast was better than I had expected. Brett had been nice enough to wait with me while the nurse practitioner at Health Services decided that I needed to go to the ER of the local hospital. Even though I found his positive attitude grating, I was thankful that he was with me. And I told him so, which was wildly out of character for me.

                “I can’t believe you said thank you,” my little sister Ingrid said during our weekly Sunday night phone call.

                “Shut up,” I said, though I was smiling. “It’s not like I need to make any enemies this early in the year.”

                “That’s true,” Ingrid said. We lapsed into silence. Then she said, “I hate my school.”

                She had spoken so softly I almost didn’t hear her. My heart squeezed in my chest. I hated it when Ingrid was sad. “I’m not so sure I like it here either,” I admitted. “I—I miss everyone.”

                “Sometimes I get so mad at Mom and Dad,” Ingrid said, a flare of anger in her voice. 

                “I know,” I said. “I guess we just have to deal with it until Thanksgiving. Then I’ll fly down there for the break.”

                “That won’t be soon enough,” Ingrid sighed as we said goodbye. 

                After we hung up, I lay back on my bunk and thought about what that must be like for Ingrid. At least at eighteen, I had the autonomy to be wherever I wanted, although realistically I was stuck in school since I had no viable way of supporting myself. Still, in some ways I envied Ingrid. Our grandparents, especially our grandmother, were fantastic. 

                I squeezed my eyes shut. Talking to Ingrid had only made me sadder, and I briefly entertained the thought of calling Anya, getting some big sister advice, but decided against it. I wasn’t ready to talk about what my future looked like now that I couldn’t dance anymore. Or at least for this semester, which would seriously diminish my ability to pursue a degree in dance performance. 

                The door to our room opened, and Kia bounced it. “What’s wrong?” she asked before she even stepped across the threshold.

                “Nothing,” I mumbled. As much as I liked Kia, I wasn’t interested in analyzing my problems with her at the moment. 

                Kia let out an impatient sigh. I squinted at her. She was standing close to the bed with her hand propped on her hip. “You’ve been moping around ever since you hurt your foot,” she said.

                “It’s my ankle, and I’m not moping, I’m grieving.”

                “Grieving? What are you grieving?” Kia asked, her eyebrows knitting together.

                I gaped at her. “The end to my dancing career.”

                “Your ankle will heal,” she said. “Now get up. You’re coming with me.”

                She came over to me, and held out her hand.  I looked at her curiously. Kia was a lot of things, but she hadn’t been bossy yet, and I was fascinated by the change in her. “Where are we going?” I asked.

                When Kia realized that I wasn’t going to fight her, she beamed at me. “To the music building,” she said. “I need to practice.”

                “And what am I going to do?” I asked. I felt like being a tiny bit combative. Actually that had been my whole mood lately, so why stop now?

                Kia shrugged as she went over to her closet, and pulled out her immense tuba case. I still thought it was hilarious to see such a tiny girl lugging around such a giant instrument. She always gave me a good side eye when I smirked at her, but today she just ignored me. “You can listen to me. Or you can sit in the lobby and study. I don’t care. All I know is that you need to get out of this room. You’ve got a funk around you.”

                “I do not,” I protested, but I did a quick sniff test when Kia turned away. Still, I got out of bed, and slipped my shoes on my feet. Out of habit I grabbed my backpack, and shoved in my laptop and my biology book. If I got bored at least I could pretend to do something productive. I had to admit, though, that I was a little curious to hear Kia play. She always went to the music building to practice, and I hadn’t found the time or energy to make it to a football game to see her march with the band.

                The walk over took a bit longer than it should have, even though we lived in a fairly close dorm. My hobbling was embarrassing, but I refused to use crutches or a cane. Pride would always be my downfall and my cup of tea. Kia seemed to know that about me, so she didn’t offer her help, although I did see her eyeing me every ten seconds. At one point she offered to let me carry her tuba for her, and then she cracked up at her own joke.

                When we got to the music building, we rode a creaky elevator up to the fourth floor. I was sure the cables would give out at any moment, plummeting us to our deaths. Kia found a practice room that faced west, a requirement for good karmic tuba practice or something like that, and she offered to let me stay to watch.

                I brushed my hand over the keys of the piano as I shook my head. “No thanks,” I said. I was about to leave when I paused, and asked, “Can anyone play these pianos?”

                Kia shrugged. “I guess so, as long as the room isn’t reserved.”

                “Okay,” I said. “I’ll be next door. I haven’t played in a while. Maybe it’ll help me take my mind off things.”

                “Great idea,” Kia said, beaming at me as if we’d just brokered a plan for peace in the Middle East.

                I sighed. I didn’t want her to get any big ideas. I was just going to play piano. Still, as I closed the door to my own practice room, I had to admit that it felt good to be doing something purely for the fun of it again. Maybe there was something to this. I guessed I’d have to wait and see.