The Secret Life of the Overture Boys - 1. Movement I

Movement 1

My name is Anderson. I won’t give you my last name because, frankly, I don’t need to. I know you will come looking for me after I tell you my story. You'll all come looking for me. Probably even try to fix me, or set me on the right track.

I’m already on the right track, have been for almost seventeen years now.

I could also buy you a house if I wanted. I don’t care where. A car? Sure. My father is big into real estate, so money’s not an issue. I only see him on major holidays, though. He’s never around. My mum left when I was four, as well. Found some richer guy. I think she lives in Greece now. The only gift I’ve ever gotten from either of them was my violin and money.

So now I live in New York City, alone. But I do have a chauffer and my own limo. The chauffeur’s name is Rudy. He’s pretty swell. I have a personal live-in maid, as well. Her name is Marta. She makes the best burritos in the city. And I can never beat her at Monopoly. My father’s pent house is in the Upper East Side, but I won’t give you the address because you might come over. I don’t want that. I also attend Julliard. I’m the best violin player since… I don’t know. Since violin players.

I’ve been playing the violin since I was five. I’m seventeen now, so seventeen minus five is twelve. Twelve years. Twelve years of bouncing around private schools in the city until I landed my audition like a champ at Julliard.

Now I attend it a few days a week for musical theory and some composing class. I love my violin. But I’m late right now for my girlfriend’s debutante ball.

“Rudy, we need to go to Mitch’s.”’

“Sir, you're going to be late and you know Chelsea won’t like that. Neight will her mother. I’m not taking the fall this time, you know that.” His big brown eyes forced me to slid across the fine leather and glare.

“Rudy, come onnnnn…” I was begging at this point.

“For what?”

“A pick me up.”

“Sir…” he gave me a fatherly look, I intercepted.

“I’ll give you the weekend off.”

“Deal.”

“GO!”

As we sped off, I was working with my tie and hoping I looked rather presentable. I checked myself out in a side mirror and didn’t mind the face that looked back. Most people didn’t. I got the good side of the family. Soft features, sandy hair, my moms eyes; not that it matters much anymore. They are a fine hazel. I’m not that tall. Average. I’m really average if you think about it. but I think my money changes all that, though.

Still speeding, we made our way into Brooklyn. The city at night is probably a creature unto itself. The lights move and whirl as you drive past and everything is different from the daytime. The city is a different person at night and so are the people who move in it. When the lights go down, you can be whomever you want.

Eventually, we reached our destination; a small delicatessen called Enzi’s, It was near closing time as I slipped out of the limo and entered the shop, the bell ringing as I closed the door behind me.

“HEY, MITCHY!” The smell of meats touched my nose, making me grimace slightly as I tried not to vomit (I’m a vegetarian). Enzi’s was run by Mitch Enzi and his father, although his father never really talked much. He was a nice guy, though. Mitch himself was a friend of mine, as well. We went to school at some point.

“Andy, what up, you didn’t text me.”

Finally, Mitch came through the flaps to the back room, looking at me as I stood there waiting in my tux, rather stupidly. Mitch was a tall Italian kid, the kind you would assume would live no other place than across one of the bridges.

“Phone died,” I lied, “I'm doing this debutante shit for Chelsea, I need motivation.” I walked closer to the glass that displayed the meats and various unappealing items. I reached into my side pocket to get my wallet out. While I'm doing that, let's have the camera pan away from me for a moment and focus on my girlfriend,; Chelsea. She was hot enough and did enough sucking of my nether regions to the point where I didn’t complain. But you know what she does? Complain. All the time. Anderson this, Anderson that. She even threatens to send me to rehab.

I don’t need rehab, she's the one with the mental problem. Whatever. I’ve been seeing her for about a year and a half and I'm being dragged to this debutante thing. Her mother is huge into some women's club and its all about vagina's and estrogen. But I guess when I look at her she can be pretty. Yeah right, maybe when I'm high.

Oh, and another thing, she always expects me to drop what I'm doing. All the time. If I'm in Jersey and she wants me on the Upper East, I'm going to get blue balls that night if I'm not there within a half an hour. But screw relationships, anyways. Back to my drug deal.

“Not now man," Mitch told me, "I’m helping my dad clean up. We’re already late for dinner and she's going to have our heads. man. Not now.”

“Dude, yes. Come on, for a hundred. Just a bit, please?” I was begging again, I need to stop this.

“Hundred? Dude, I wouldn’t do that to you,” he glanced at his father who was near the cash register. I never understood why the father didn't say anything, but after a while I figured he blocked out that his son was the biggest yayo dealer for the youth in the boroughs.

“Just take it, Christ, I need to go. Chelsea is going to flip,” I tossed him folded twenties. He snatched them up, scowling, vanishing behind the plastic flaps. A few moments later he emerged, tossing a small baggy at me. I caught it and turned on my heel.

“I owe you Mitch.”

“Yeah, yeah asshole…” The bell jingling signaled my exit, just as Rudy pulled up and I slid back in. I rolled up the divider between the front of the car and my little domain in the back and pulled out my mirror as I began to prepare.

I must say, the preparation is my favorite part. I kept my mirror clean and I used my credit card. It was like I was preparing it in style. My eyes gleamed, I rolled a twenty and did a little bump. Snorted it up and leaned back with a huge inhale.

I could feel it already, wispy away in my head. Time sped up and I was chilling. I smiled to nobody in particular. Glancing down, there wasn’t much, but I could see some selling potential. The social events usually had idiots. I could make some extra weed money or something.

I did another bump, then it was smooth sailing from there.

After picking up the goods I searched around for my cigarettes, lighting one as I inhaled the cancer and enjoyed. Life was fucking fantastic. All the time, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year. Top of the world. I could get into most clubs, drink at most bars, it was all set up. I just needed to go where I was needed. All I really needed was my violin and my thoughts. Everybody else could fuck off in my opinion.

The car slowed and we arrived. I noticed it had a red carpet and when I got out I was blinded by photographers. I wasn’t with a debutante so they probably wouldn't care. Either way, I took another drag and smiled wandering around for a bit before remembering it was a city event and stomping out my cigarette quickly.

“Shit, shit shit….” Chelsea could get disqualified or some bullshit for that. I hated debutante balls. Stupid. Old ladies and mothers showing off their poodle daughters. I was just a pawn. My father gave me up to Chelsea’s family before I was born. A great family union they claimed my ass. I dated the girl, too. It was a nightmare.

Evading the paparazzi I entered the hall, straightening my clothing as I still felt some of the coke. I went to look for Chelsea. The thing hadn’t begun and I was near the dressing rooms when I heard it:
“Where the fuck is he?”

“Did you call him?”

“He will probably say his phone is dead,” Her voice was banshee material. My eyes were a bit whacked, I could tell, but I sauntered into view.

“Sup baby, I have arrived!” I shot my hands out and was looked on by several furious looking females. Chelsea surged forward, dress and all. She looked pretty, but at this point I was good enough to just leave. I didn’t though. It would cause “strife”.

The relationship was abusive, as you could see.

“I swear Anderson, I swear I will end this, it is starting in like ten minutes, and where are you? Probably getting off somewhere.,” She was distraught, I shook my head in denial.

“I’m here, aren’t I? Lets go, come on.” Her two carny ass friends Jessica and Rebecca were there, too. Even their names are the same. Swanky tools.

So anyways, the thing happened and it was good. Chelsea got to show off and I dragged her into one of the bathrooms and railed her pretty good. She let out some moan, sounded almost like, “I’m coming,” and after I moaned right back, “Alright, I’m out.,” Then I left her. Bitch. It was a sudden on the spot decision, breaking up, But she would get over it. That or kill herself, but the cool thing was, the world wouldn’t miss her. She would be replaced with another Barbie. It was a sad cycle of inevitable rebirth.

I needed another bump after that. I found a man bathroom, I cleaned the sink off and checked the stalls, kicking each one in violently with a smirk on my face. Nobody was around. The thing was big and swanky, which was alright. The door was in a sort of foyer place, a long mirror. Five sinks encased in marble, a few stalls and urinals at the far end of the sink row. The lighting wasn’t bad either, so I poured out some of the powder and began to prepare again. I relished it, but my relishing was broken as some blond kid came in. He paused at the door, and then moved in slowly, watching me carefully like some undercover cop.

“Is there a lock on the door?” I asked., I was in the process of making the rail, so I didn’t look up.

“No.” He had a lispy voice, I glanced up and grinned.

“Want some?”

“M-me? Is that…?” He looked like a virgin. Beaming, I gestured him over.

“Yeah coke, want some?”

“No, hell no. I just need to go to the bathroom.”

I sighed. “Fine suit yourself. " He went over to the urinals and I did my bump. I made a loud ruckus about it, even moaned and arched my back and bent over as if I was in pain. He had been standing there for some time when he finally finished, washing his hands before he made for the door. I watched him in his fancy little tux, drumming my fingers along the marble sink top. When he reached the door I made a quick jaunt to him, letting out a whispered;

“Wait a sec.” He turned and I shoved my palm right up against his junk, massaging it a tad.

His blue eyes went wide and he gasped, it was something between pleasure and shock. He was taller so I peered up, “I just broke up with my girlfriend.” I twisted my palm slightly, watching. he shivered. “Take a line, screw these debutante whores!” I yelled the rest, echoing around the bathroom. There was a reluctant nod and I lead him over.

“I’ve never done this before.”

“All the better, use this,” I handed him the twenty., “Do it like they do in the movies, come on…” I set him up and helped him bend closer, leaning against his rather firm buttocks. He snorted it up, cringed, wiped his nose and coughed a few times. I gave him a big slamming palm on the back. “WELL DONE CADET!”

He laughed, using his sleeve to wipe at his nose. Not proper in the dinning room, but whatever happens in the bathroom stays in the bathroom. I packed my shit away and managed to jury rig the metal trash can and take the batteries out of the smoke detector. I lit up a cig and enjoyed. The blond kid stayed, waiting. They always wait. But it would come in a bit.

“Can I have one?” he asked, looking eager at the cigs. American Spirits. They were cheap enough. I knew a guy at the corner store that would sneak them usually to me on weekends.

“Can’t have you doing all the drugs in one night. Where do you live?”

“Down by Central Park.”

“Luxurious.” I took a deep drag, letting the smoke leak from my lips. I plopped down on the trash can, dangling my legs. The yayo surged into my head, it felt awesome.

“Well not really, my mom is an artist and my dad actually owns…”

“Whoa hey… just shhh…” He did and I handed him a cigarette. He lit up and coughed his face off. I finished mine, tossing it into a urinal. I pissed on it to put it out and wandered towards the door. I could tell he was spacing, I could see it. He set down the smoldering cigarette, it wasn’t even done. What a waste.

“So what about the debutante whores?” He asked, loosening his tie. Mine had already been disheveled. I looked like I just had great sex with my girlfriend…not.

“Fuck them, you don’t need these people… all these rich people. Annoying if you ask me,” I said nodding as I reached for the handle of the door.

“Yeah, screw them…” he whispered it back. I glanced at the handle, then to him and considered it. I burst out in laughter and lunged at him, our lips connected and it was electrifying. I slid my hands instantly through his fly and got a hold of his manhood. He tried to grip at mine but I moved my hips enough to still maintain good stimulation as I pumped. Moaning into my lips, his body shivered and I just grinned. After a bit, he came. He sighed loudly and hunched back onto the sink edge.

I washed my hands gingerly and departed, “See ya virgin.” Never saw him again. I exited the dinning hall, attempting to avoid my ex-girlfriend and her insane clown posse.

And that's when Charlie came along.

I had a feeling he would come around, just not right now. He leaned against the one of the poles that held up one of the awnings. Smoking a cig like usual.

Charlie was a year older and effectively my best friend. We shared enough secrets and tag teamed enough girls in bed to be considered friends. We did lots of stuff together and he was a quiet person. He plays the piano, and well I might add. He has piano hands. I really like his hands. To describe him plainly, is that he isn’t. He can finish a cigarette in under a minute. Charlie never came from much money but he has it, I’ve always assumed grandparents but it never was confirmed. His parents live in Maine apparently and he has a nice studio place in Brooklyn. He is self sufficient, like myself in a sense just older.

Personally, between you and I, he is kind of mature for me. He looks at me sometimes like I am a child and I'm unsure if I appreciate it, or not. But we’re still friends right? That’s all that matters.

“Yo.”

Charlie took a drag and hailed me with a wave, “Hey, we’re going to go meet Dominic in at the park.” I nodded. I shivered and pulled my jacket around me. But it wasn’t enough. A wind chill had set in and it usually drags with it the sin and grime of the city. Making it even more chilling to the bone. I lit up a cig and enjoyed it in silence for a moment or so. Charlie spoke:

“Lets take the subway then.” He flicked his cigarette into the gutter and began to walk.

I stumbled along, still a bit dazed from my yayo installations. “Do we really? I can call Rudy, isn’t an issue you know that.”

“Be a popper instead of a prince for once, Anderson. Nobody is down there anyways. Hobos and shit, and you like lighting them on fire.”

I let out a torrent of tobacco smoke, trying not to laugh. “Yeah, alright alright.”

“You got shit?”

“Like to shit? Not right now, have to pee though,” I bounced around holding my nuts for a moment. My cig was almost done and that was depressing.

“Coke fool,” he crossed a street and made for the subway stairs a block ahead. The streets were kind of empty, but the occasional shady figure wandered around. They never bothered us, ever. I never understood why. We were a pair of kids, jump us or something. I was harmless looking, but Charlie was taller, had more muscle.

“Yup, picked up from Mitchy." My cigarette finished, sad face. "Today actually, I broke up with Chelsea.” I looked at him to see a reaction, he looked rather surprised.

“Really? Why?”

“She's insane.”

“Her mother is insane.”

“Same difference. She is her mother’s daughter, however that fucking saying goes.” I contemplated another cigarette, but I was unsure what I would have done with those five years lost if I had smoked it. “It was good while it lasted. You can have her if you want.”

“Thanks. I’m seeing this girl from NYU.”

“Older women huh?”

“Yeah, huge tits.,” Charlie was more of a bust guy than a butt guy.

“Always good to look at.”

“Yup.” He was working on another cigarette as we went down into the florescent subway station.

I never liked subways. I was fortunate enough to be driven around, thank God. Subways were so dirty and commonplace for things that I was unsure I would even like. So I stayed away. The subterranean world of the New York subways system was indeed something that was out of sight out of mind for some. It was always a pale green, with flickering lights, screeching brakes, and moaning homeless creatures. Confused tourists too. And it was always warm. Never cold, never freezing and never horrendously hot. It was a sanitized purgatory for the city. Creepy as fuck.

We were going to catch some train that would put us near Central Park. We were not that far from it and taxis were the biggest rip off since anything Billy Mays sold on T.V. Charlie continued to smoke while we stood on the platform waiting. A train came by after a bit, rushing by and we stood there like true New Yorkers, not scared. The wind rushed past throwing up my hair and jacket, Charlie’s coat resembled something out of the Matrix. I laughed at it, very cool.

The station was double-sided from the other block and as the train passed, time kind of slowed for me., I saw a kid through the rushing windows, smiling at me. My age, I think. Dirty blond hair, kind features.

“Cassidy?” I said it aloud and even over the rush Charlie said loudly:.

“Huh?”

As the train passed, the rush, the sound distracted me and the kid was gone.

“Cassidy. I just saw Cassidy.” Charlie looked across the platform then back to me, something in his eyes stirred as if he considered options. “I swear Charlie… right there.” I pointed.

“Want a cigarette?” I took one and smoked the hell out of it, pondering over that kid. Was it really Cassidy?

“We have to talk about this, come on. I just saw Cassidy.” I gave Charlie a pleading look.

He sighed, loudly. Our train was approaching, next, I could hear it. “There are plenty of people in this city that look like Cassidy, dude. Just lay off the smack for a night, alright?”

“Charlie, I really did.”

"You're tripping my friend,” he rested a gentle hand on my shoulder and pulled me close. I wanted to eat my cigarette. I felt slimy and light headed.

"'kay." The train arrived and we stepped on. I sat down next to Charlie, letting my head fall onto his shoulder. The train lurched, lights flickered and we were off. “I really did,” I whispered. I felt depressed suddenly.

“I know." Charlie replied. The train was empty and it felt very lonely even next to my friend. “Think Dom has any pot?”

“Probably.”

“I heard he got arrested in Jersey the other day, dad bailed him out.”

I leaned up, resting my head against the cool glass of the window. The train was picking up speed., “His dad always bails him out, wish mine did that. Shit, I could kill people and get away with it.” It was annoying. Dominic’s father was an oil baron or something in Texas. Lives in New York though and spoils his stupid son. “I always have to call Marta and tell her to come get me and write a check or something. Embarrassing.”

“You write checks for everything, Anderson.” It stung for just a moment.

I didn’t say anything.

The rest of the way there we sat in silence, thinking. We both did it and we both knew we were doing it. Contemplating, wondering, musing. “Want a bump?”

“Yes, please.” It took me a moment but I set up a bump for Charlie, he took it thoughtfully. I did one for myself and noticed my sack was getting a lot less white.

“Shit. Almost out.”

“I’m surprised nobody at Julliard has tossed you onto some twelve step program,” Charlie mused.

“I’m totally not addicted, assmaster.” I glared.

“Then what is it called?” I put my small mirror back into my pocket along with my baggy.

“A happy, loving union.,” We both laughed.

“I’m preparing myself for the day I find you dead from that shit.,” Charlie gave me a knowing look.

“Doubtful, I’ll die an old man. Plus you like all the free shit I give you anyways.” It was true, I helped out Charlie a few times, even while he was setting up while away from his parents. I paid for his rent for three months. He has paid me back since, actually.

“I’d still be around even if you made me pay.” I smiled at this. The train lurched and we arrived at the station before our stop. As the doors slid opened, through the dripping florescent and sour smells, I heard the faint notes of a flute. Glancing at Charlie who was on his phone, I stood up and peaked out the threshold of the automatic doors. Nobody was in the station, minus a sleeping homeless sop near the stairs to the street. The sing-song tone echoed alerting me the doors were closing. I went to a window and pressed my nose against it watching the station slide by slowly. There he was again, standing near a column. I rubbed my eyes and sank into the row of plastic seats across from Charlie. I rubbed my eyes a few more times and I wasn’t sure if I was going to cry or scream.

“What?” My friend slid his cell back into his pocket, leaning onto his knees.

“Uh, tired. What time is it?” I paused, suddenly becoming aware I was freezing, “I’m cold.”

“It almost two." He shed off his coat and tossed it to me. I didn’t say anything but shrugged it on and was warm again. I sighed and the hairs stood up on the back of my head.

“In the morning?”

“Yeah… are you alright man?” Charlie looked sincere.

“Yeah, I hate subways…” I trailed off, my mind was a wreck. I wasn’t sure what to think. I tried not to think at all. When we arrived at the station I sprinted up the stairs and into the city chill. I took huge breaths and was so glad to see trash and idle taxis and flickering store lights. I hated subways. Charlie took his time and when he emerged from beneath, a cigarette smoldered between his lips.

We walked a few blocks in silence, I skipped over every crack in the ground. At some point I went through three cigs trying to French inhale. You know, when you let the smoke leak out and then take it in through your nose.

Crossing the street, we hit the edge of the Park. Central Park was a separate realm from the city, I thought. Kind of like the Vatican. It almost had its own governing council, made up of homeless folk and homos who would fuck in the shadows under the bridges. During the day, tourists came and ogled at the fact there was a piece of natural in this steel jungle. We just smoked lots of pot and stole stuff from hobos.

Our meeting place was the fountain of The Dancing Maidens. And from there we would usually go to the statue of Balto and always pretend we wished we had a cool wolf like that.

Arriving at the fountain, we waited for Dominic. Charlie called him four times on the way over, which usually annoyed the kid. The Park at night was a great escape, usually the police kept out and we were never bothered by the denizens considering we were foreign agents in their realm.

Dom appeared in the din of the light under the really shitty lamps. Dominic was a wispy Polish kid. He was the kind of kid that made you look twice as he walked past. Blond hair, Scandinavian features, crazy blue eyes. He was at Julliard for composing and musical theory. We always asked him to play for us but he never would. I soon assumed he couldn't play an instrument. But the kid could write a symphony in fifteen minutes. He was the biggest stoner I knew and usually forced us to do the wildest things. Last month we did acid on top of the Empire State Building. He was Charlie’s age, older than I was by a bit. His father was some sort of oil baron, or something, but he wasn't lavish about his money. Dom had a small apartment a few blocks from where I lived. He had a roommate, who we never saw. The point was; he was good company.

“Hi, hi.” He was already working on a joint and passed it along to me. I took a hit. I had calmed down from the subway. I just pushed aside the fact that the coke was probably bringing me down a bit. I passed the joint to Charlie.

“So, I have a surprise.,” Dominic had this odd accent that was neither strong nor soft. It meshed with English. But you knew he was from somewhere that wasn’t the US. He was usually the one to speak to the police if we got caught or got us women in clubs and stuff. Good wing man.

I remember once we almost got arrested for breaking into Charlie’s apartment, to get his cell phone because he left his keys and his cellphone inside. Dom talked us out of that one.

“What?”

The joint was back to me and I took a hit, or two.

“Well I got us on the list for that one place you wanted to go, A.” I looked hopeful.

“Really? Are you serious? When are we going?”

“Tomorrow.” Dom produced another joint from his pocket and lit up. I jumped forward and wrapped my arms around him.

“Lets have sex, Dominic!”

“Rather not, little man.” He pushed me away. The place he was talking about was a swanky club in some high rise in the city that was exclusive. It didn't even have a name. There were lots of drugs and shit and I always wanted to go.

“All of us?” Charlie asked. Two shady looking guys came down the stairs near us and glanced over at us, they were probably going to fuck or something. Dominic gave them a wave.

“Use protection boys…” He returned his attention to us.“Yeah, all of us. I know one of the bouncers and we can go. It was rather easy, you could have done it, Anderson.” I was already feeling high but said nothing. “I’m not finished yet… I have a friend over in Jersey that I want you guys to meet. He is working on this… uhh project and I think you guys would be interested.”

“I’m down. I can skip class tomorrow.” Charlie lit up a cigarette again.

“I’m not sure if I can. I need to go do this recital thing; but after that sure.”

“I can text you the place and Rudy can take you,” Dominic offered. I shrugged.

“Yeah, whatever. What is this stuff?”

“Some purple strained, you know Veronica right? She just got a new stash. Call her, she's probably up.” I whipped out my phone and found her number and called her up. Charlie and Dominic kept their own conversation going while I wandered away.

“Hello?”

“Hey Veronica, its Anderson…”

"Oh my god, Anderson. I was just like thinking about you. Dommy was over here the other day and we were just like talking about that one night…” I cut her off. I wanted weed. My mind had deluded the thought of coke for the next few weeks. But I knew I’d be bumping tomorrow again, especially at that night club. I held the phone closer to my ear.

“You got bud?”

“Yeah duh man, come over. Bethany is out of town or something, visiting her parents in California. Come over, kid,”

“Okay.” I hung up and returned to the others. “I’m going over to Veronica’s.”

“Now?”

“Yeah why not?”

“Its just late,” Dominic shrugged.

“I’ll go home after. So tomorrow just text me that address, when are we going to go to that place you got us into?”

“After we hit up Jersey, that’s my vote,” Charlie opted.

“Alright.” I left them and thanked Dom for the weed.

I refused to take the subway, especially alone. Hailing a taxi, I journeyed about twenty minutes until I reached Veronica’s little cozy town home thing. Knocking on the door, she answered, I was let up. Veronica was this little Jewish thing. Huge marijuana dealer. She was that kind of girl you enjoyed hanging out with, even if it was just to do business.

“Hey, Charlie’s jacket.” I noticed it too, and felt stupid.

“Shit, I forgot to give it back, whatever… So let me shop.” She grabbed my hand. Veronica was pretty. I always thought she was.

We entered her kitchen and on the table she had at least eight large glass jars full of weed, labeled separately. She gave me a tour, pointing and tugging me by the hand as we went around.

“So this one is like… a sativa thingy, its super good. Kinda lags to get you high…” We moved to the next., “This one is my purple, pretty gnar, gets you all heady." She went on and on and I picked the one I wanted. We smoked all of it in her living room watching re-runs of Jeopardy. At some point I jumped on her and we started making out and eventually fucked in her bedroom. I left quietly and the whole time we had sex, she just laughed. I thought I was doing shit wrong.

I went home stoned and sat on my bed staring out the large windows that looked out over the city. I walked to the window and leaned against it, looking down the seventy-something storeys to the ant-like lights below. I sighed and stared as the moon arched over the city, bathing it in an artificial glow. The whole fucking city was artificial. My reflection in the window was lanky, my boxers hugged to slender hips. I had a nice body, I thought. It was just right. Enough tone to not be nasty. I touched myself a little bit and then got bored. I sat on the ground of my bedroom in the cold and cleaned my violin inside and out until the sun started to paint the sky. I played a few bits from my recital piece, “Bach Street Prelude”.

But the whole time, no, the whole night, something was bothering me. Putting my violin away and launching myself onto my plush bed, I sighed loudly and settled into the sheets, staring at the white ceiling above me. It had been a good night, all things considered, but something was still bothering me. The kid I saw in the subway.

Cassidy.

He was dead.