Lone Bean (3 page)

Chapter 5
The Missing Link

E
very day after school, I ran straight to the computer, but not today. When I slid through the door, Dad was waiting in the kitchen.

“So?” he said.

So what? I racked my brain. I had been a good girl the whole first week of school, doing my homework each night without complaining and getting along with my sisters.

“Have you decided which instrument you want to play?” Dad asked with a smile. “Today is the day!”

“Ah,” I sighed. I wasn't in trouble after all. I still hadn't thought about which instrument to play, but I knew for sure it wasn't gonna be the piano or the flute. I racked my brain some more for something cool and different and special . . . something like me!

Dad drummed his fingers on the table while he waited for my answer.

“I got it!” I shouted. “The cello! I wanna play the cello!”

“The cello?” Dad repeated with a wrinkled brow. “Why the cello?”

“Because it's b-i-g BIG and cool, and no one else plays it.”

“Okay, if that's what you want,” Dad said as he shook his head. “Follow me. We'll find you one in the garage.”

I trailed right behind him out the back door, down the steps, and around the side of the house. We stepped into the dark and spooky garage, and a shiver ran down my spine as Dad swatted away a spiderweb.
Eww.

There are no cars in our garage. Only spooks and spiders and oh, yeah . . . that's where Dad keeps all sorts of instruments. He went to the far-back dark corner and pulled out a huge—and I mean really huge—leather case. It was skinny at the top and really fat at the bottom and very, very dusty.

“Here you go, Bean. This cello is all yours,” he said. He leaned the huge case on my shoulder.

Ugh!
It was even heavier than it looked. I tugged and pulled and finally got it just right and ready to drag into the house. I heaved and pulled, but my back felt like it was gonna crack for sure.

“Dad, can you help me carry it?” I asked as I huffed and puffed and pushed and pulled.

“First lesson is that the cello is heavy, and if you are going to play it, you're going to have to carry it,” he said.

“But—”

“But nothing, baby.”

And with that, he left me in the dark garage alone with the biggest, stupidest cello ever. Maybe if I was a big, muscly weightlifter, I could have played the cello, but since I'm not, I searched the garage for something a little more my size. The trombone? Nope. I didn't want my cheeks all stretched and puffed. The drums? No way. They are even bigger and heavier that the cello.

Then I saw it in the corner off by itself. The violin! That was it. It's a string instrument and you play it with a bow, just like the cello, only it's way, way smaller. I grabbed the case, easy as pie, and ran back into the house to let Dad know.

“Dad, I wanna play the violin instead,” I said, showing him the case proudly.

“What happened to the cello?”

“I changed my mind, but I won't change it again. I love, love, love the violin.”

I gave the dusty leather case a hug to show how much I really did love it.

“Okay, then, the violin it is.”

I headed into the living room to get to work on my homework. I plopped myself down on the floor by the coffee table just as Mom came in.

“Hello, honey,” she said, greeting Dad with a big hug. Then she stuck her head into the living room and blew kisses to me and my sisters. “And kisses for my favorite flowers in the whole world!” she sang.

Mom took over for Dad, cooking in the kitchen so he could come make sure everyone was doing their homework.

“I'm already done,” said Gardenia. She danced around the living room.

“I'm working on it,” I grumbled as I tried to focus on my spelling words.

“Nice work, ladies.” Dad turned his attention to Gardenia. “Pull out your flute and let's make some music.”

She grabbed her case and put her flute together piece by piece. Rose came downstairs and sat at the piano, ready to play. But before they could get started, Dad said, “Your sister is going to learn how to play the violin.”

“Really? That's cool, Bean,” Rose said.

“Once Bean gets going, you guys can all play together.” Dad beamed. “We'll have the Gibson Family Trio!”

Dad used to play in an orchestra in college and a rock band too. Since he has no time to rock with his old band, he's always been excited about making a new band here at home. I've been the missing link, you know.

“No way, Dad! I'm going to be a solo artist, and I am definitely not gonna play with Bean,” said Gardenia—as if I wasn't even in the room. “She doesn't know how.”

“She's going to learn,” Dad said.

“Yeah! And I'll be better than you!” I stuck my tongue out at her.

“I doubt it.” She laughed.

“Guess what?” Dad said. “My students are putting on a big holiday musical performance at the college. And I would like all of you to play in the show.”

“Not me, though. Right?” I asked nervously.

“Yes, ma'am! You too,” Dad said.

“But I don't even know how to play.”

“We'll have all of Thanksgiving break to practice, and you'll play something simple. Don't worry, sweetheart. This is gonna be fun.”

Gardenia practiced with Dad while I did my homework. She may be rotten, but she sounded beautiful. There was no way I would be that good by Christmas.

I finished my homework just as Gardenia finished her lesson. Then it was Rose's turn. She sat up really straight and started playing. She can play with both hands at once and with all her fingers moving at the same time. She was gonna be the star of the holiday performance, for sure.

I lay on the floor listening to Rose play. She was even better than Gardenia. My stomach twisted and turned into knots. What if the violin was too hard?

Rose finished her lesson, and Dad gave her a high five. “Nice job, Rose!”

“Practice makes perfect,” Rose said with a giggle. She hopped up from the piano. “Your turn, Bean.”

I got up slowly and brought my violin case over to Dad. My hands shook and my fingers felt like Jell-O as I unlatched the buckles and opened the case. I pulled out the shiny wooden violin and the long matching bow. Dad twisted and turned the knobs at the top till the strings were tight. Then he showed me how to hold the violin between my chin and my left shoulder. He also showed me where to put my left fingers on the strings, in what he called “open position.” Then he showed me how to hold the bow in my other hand.

“Now let's try to make a sound,” Dad said.

He showed me how to pull the bow across one string at a time. I did it just the way Dad showed me, but . . .
screeeeeech!

I scrunched up my nose at the awful sound and Gardenia covered her ears. But not Dad. He smiled and seemed to enjoy it.

“Good job, Bean,” he said.

“What? That sounded terrible.”

“We've got to start somewhere,” said Dad, “and that was nice and loud.”

“Sure was,” Gardenia said, scrunching up her nose.

I slid the bow across the strings again and again, but each time I pulled the bow, it sounded worse than the last. Like, really terrible!

“Press a little harder on the strings and pull the bow slowly.”

I kept trying and it got a little better, but it was still b-a-d BAD!

“Now, let's try to make a G,” Dad suggested.

He was talking about musical notes, you know. Dad showed me which string to pull the bow on.

I did it just like he showed me and . . .
screeeeeeeeech!

“I can't do this!”

“It's going to take some time to get the hang of it,” Dad said. “Try again.”

I tried and tried, till my back hurt from sitting up so straight. My arms ached from holding the violin and the bow in the air.

“Dad, I need a break,” I said. I shook my arms out and stretched my back. “This violin is hard work.”

Dad made me try a couple more times before agreeing to give me a rest.

“You did well for the first day,” he said, giving me a high five. Then he headed to the kitchen to keep Mom company while she made dinner.

Gardenia sat at the computer and said, “You are horrible.”

“I know,” I said as I put the violin and bow back in their leather case.

“You're gonna get booed right off that stage at the holiday performance.”

I put my violin case away and collapsed on the couch. Mom told me once that if you think about something going good in your head, it'll work itself out in real life. I decided to try. As I lay there, I imagined standing in front of crowds and crowds of people. A spotlight came on and circled me as I stood in a pretty dress with my violin in my hand. The audience stared in anticipation as I got ready to play. I took a deep breath and . . .
screeeech!
My violin made the most terrible, awful, dreadful sound, and everyone howled with laughter.

“Dinnertime!” Mom called.

Thank goodness.

I trudged into the kitchen and plopped myself down at the table. Mom had made mac and cheese, one of my favorites! Even though I was still upset about the silly violin, that didn't stop me from shoveling spoonful after spoonful into my mouth. Yum!

After dinner, I headed upstairs to get ready for bed. I brushed my teeth, washed my face, and put on my pajamas. Instead of taking out my book, I pulled out the violin case from under my bed. I decided to give this stinkin' violin one more try. Mom, Dad, Rose, and Gardenia were still downstairs, so no one would hear.

I took the violin out of the case and placed it on my shoulder. I held the neck of the violin gently, with my fingers curved over the strings, just like Dad had shown me. Then I took out the bow, placed it on the second string, and slid.
Screeeech!

I felt like I was gonna cry, but I fought to hold the tears in. I really wanted to get this. I kept trying again and again, but it kept screeching and screeching. Then, all of a sudden, to my surprise, one steady, in-tune note sang from the string.

It wasn't a song or anything, but it was a start . . . a good start. I climbed into bed still smiling, but just as I snuggled under the covers, my bedroom door opened with a creak.

“Bean?” Gardenia whispered.

“What?”

“
Screeeeeeeeeeech!
” she wailed. And she ran back down the stairs, laughing hysterically.

Chapter 6
Goody, Goody Gumdrops

F
or Halloween, our class was allowed to put on our costumes during recess. I was a rock star. Mom had bought me the most beautiful sequined dress from the thrift store. Dad let me borrow a microphone from the garage, and Rose gave me some sparkly makeup.

When I got all dressed up and fluffed out my hair, I looked awesome. But no one told me how great my costume was and no one wanted to watch me put on a concert . . . except for Stanley, but he doesn't count because I didn't even want him to.

When you don't have a best friend, there is no one to stand in line with and no one to sit with at lunch and no one to talk to and no one to trade your carrots or milk with. And worst of all, no one to play with at recess, so I just plopped down on the bench and watched everyone run around in their costumes.

Some days, though, I would go to the principal's office at recess. Not because I was in trouble or anything, but because I liked to spend time with Ms. Gloria, the secretary.

Ms. Gloria sits at a big oak desk and answers the phones while she files her long pink-painted nails. She's really pretty and she wears red lipstick.

“Hey, Ms. Gloria,” I said as I poked my head into the office.

“Hi there, honey.” Ms. Gloria greeted me with a warm smile and the usual question. “Are things any better with Carla?”

I always tell Ms. Gloria what's going on. “She totally hates me.”

“Oh, Bean, I'm sure she doesn't.”

“Need any help today?” I asked, changing the subject.

I crossed my fingers behind my back because I hoped she had an errand for me to run. My favorite is when she lets me go in the teachers' lounge to copy papers for her. No kids are allowed in the teachers' lounge, except me when I'm on official office business.

“I've got some mail to deliver to Room Four,” she said.

“I'll make it a speedy delivery.”

I took the envelope and spun around to head into the hall. Standing in the doorway was goody-two-shoes Gabrielle.

Gabrielle is the most polite person I have ever met and she never gets in trouble. Also, she is always dressed like she's going to a party. She wears dresses with matching hair bows. I don't think it feels very comfortable, but she sure does look nice all the time. I only have one fancy dress like that, but it's for church. I usually just wear jeans and a T-shirt.

“Hello, Ms. Gloria,” she said in her sweet-as-sugar voice. “I just wanted to stop by to see how you are doing today and see if maybe you might need help with anything.”

No way! This girl was trying to take my job!

“Oh, you girls are so nice,” Ms. Gloria said with a smile. “Bean is going to deliver some mail for me. Why don't you go with her and make sure it gets to Room Four safe and sound?”

“Goody, goody gumdrops!” she sang.

“I can handle it,” I said quickly. “You don't need to come with me.”

“No worries at all,” said Gabrielle. “I would love to accompany you.”

I held the envelope tight in my hand as I rushed into the hall, with Gabrielle tailing close behind.

“I love to help Ms. Gloria,” Gabrielle said as she clip-clopped like a horse to catch up to me. “Don't you?”

I didn't say anything. I just kept walking because I was on a mission. I opened the door to Room Four and handed the envelope to Ms. Charles, the other third-grade teacher.

“Thank you, girls.”

“No problem,” I said.

“Our pleasure,” Gabrielle chimed in. “And don't you look nice today. I really like your dress.”

“Thank you, dear,” Ms. Charles said. “Aren't you sweet?”

Gabrielle isn't sweet at all. She's a suck-up. I picked up my pace and rushed back to the office to see if Ms. Gloria needed any more help.

“No running in the halls!” Gabrielle yelled behind me.

“Whatever,” I said as I slid into the office like I was going into home plate.

“Got anything else for me, Ms. Gloria?” I panted, trying to catch my breath.

“Nothing else today, girls.”

Girls?
Gabrielle was still following me like my shadow.

“Gabrielle, your mom called. She's running a little bit late, but she'll be here soon,” said Ms. Gloria.

“Thank you,” Gabrielle said. She sat down, crossed her legs, and waited.

I'm not sure what her mom was coming for, but I didn't want to leave her here alone, because maybe she would talk Ms. Gloria into liking her better than me. I plopped right down in the seat next to her and waited too.

“I think you would look pretty with a bow in your hair,” said Gabrielle.

“Really?” I never wear anything in my hair, except a rubber band to hold it in a ponytail.

“I can tie it for you,” she said.

“Okay,” I agreed, trying to play it cool even though I was really, really excited.

Gabrielle got up on her knees and tied her bow around my ponytail. I shook it back and forth, and posed like I was a model in the fashion magazines that Rose reads.

“Looking good, Bean,” said Ms. Gloria.

Like a burst of wind, the door swung open and in came the fanciest lady I have ever seen. She was wearing superhigh heels, a dress that looked like something a queen would wear, and so much makeup, she almost looked like a clown.

“Darling, I am so sorry I was tardy,” she said as she spun around the office.

“No worries, Mother,” Gabrielle said. She stood up and straightened her dress. “I have had some company while I waited.”

I just sat there, slouched in my seat, with my mouth wide open. I'd never seen a lady like this before.

“Well, look at you,” Gabrielle's mom stared at me with a wrinkled brow. “Aren't you a little darling for keeping my baby company?”

“Mother, this is Bean. She is in my class.”

“I see,” her mom said, looking me up and down like I was some sort of slob. I sat up as straight as my back would go, flattened out my T-shirt, and crossed my legs so she would stop staring at me.

“Well, then,” she said, peeling her eyes off me and turning back to Gabrielle. She tugged on her dress and fluffed her hair. Then she reached into her purse, and her perfectly manicured fingers pulled out an asthma inhaler. People use that when they can't breathe very well, so maybe that's why Gabrielle always sits on the bench during P.E. and recess. Gabrielle took it and sucked in three big, deep breaths.

“Are you feeling better?” her mom asked as she reached again into her purse. “Do you need a Motrin? A cough drop? Hand cream?”

“No, thank you, Mother.”

“Sunscreen? Chapstick?”

“Mother, I am just fine.”

“Well, then I'll head out. I shall see you this afternoon.”

“Um, Mother? Do you think we might be able to meet outside on the playground today?” Gabrielle asked tentatively.

“No,” her mother said as she shook her head in disgust. “We will meet here in the office as we always do. I cannot have you waiting out in that sun. It is very bad for the skin. Very bad for the skin, indeed. The playground is dirty . . . and all those children.” She shook her head again.

“Please, Mother,” pleaded Gabrielle.

“Absolutely not. See you this afternoon. A pleasure to meet you, child,” she said to me, and shook my arm, which flopped around like a noodle. Then, just as quickly as she had come in, she spun around and left.

Gabrielle's shoulders, which are usually stiff and straight, were slumped over. I felt bad for her. I mean the poor thing wasn't even allowed to play on the playground.

“Want to go see if any of the teachers need help cleaning the chalkboards?” I asked, only because I didn't have anything else to do and I did feel a little bad for Gabrielle.

We went back to our classroom, where Ms. Sullivan was sitting at her desk grading papers.

“Would you like us to clean your chalkboards and erasers, Ms. Sullivan?” I asked.

“That would be wonderful. I never get around to cleaning them.”

“Goody, goody gumdrops!” Gabrielle sang.

“Leave it to us,” I said.

“Thank you. I'm going to go to the teachers' lounge.” Ms. Sullivan left, and we got to work. Gabrielle wiped the boards down with a wet cloth. She was very serious about her work. I, on the other hand, was having fun slamming the erasers together and making a big cloud of dust. I danced in a circle, banging the erasers all over the place and then right in front of Gabrielle's nose.

“Stop that, Bean,” Gabrielle gasped. She swatted the air and coughed.

I remembered her asthma. “Oops, sorry!” I said. I stopped right away and waved my arms so that the chalk cloud would disappear. Gabrielle kept on coughing.

I finished cleaning the erasers without making any more of a mess just as Ms. Sullivan returned.

“Thank you, girls. I think this is the cleanest my boards have ever been.”

“You are very welcome,” said Gabrielle, smiling, and I couldn't help but smile too.

It felt good to have Ms. Sullivan happy with me for once. And even though Gabrielle was such a goody-two-shoes, it was cool to have someone to hang out with.

“Wanna go out to the playground?” I asked hopefully.

“First stop, the bathroom,” she said. “We have to wash our hands and clean up.”

My hands were a little chalky. Usually, I would've just wiped them on my jeans, but if I had been wearing a dress like Gabrielle's, I wouldn't have wanted to get it dusty either.

We washed up, and since the bell hadn't rung yet, we headed out to the playground.

“Wanna climb the jungle gym?” I asked.

“No, thank you,” she responded quickly, without even thinking it over.

“What about hopscotch?”

“No, Bean, I do not want to dirty my shoes,” she said.

I looked at her patent leather slippers. They were pretty, but they were definitely not for running at the playground. I slumped down on the bench next to her.

“Maybe do you wanna come play at my house after school?” I asked hopefully.

“I'm not allowed to have play dates,” Gabrielle told me.

She wasn't allowed to play on the playground, go to other people's houses, or even talk on the phone. What kind of a friend was that?