Page 72 of Interpreter

“Cal! Thanks for stopping by.”

Did she say Cal? I turn so I can see the annoying hall neighbor. Yep, it’s Cal. “No problem, Ms. Peak.”

He sets a bucket of cleaning supplies on the desk, and Ms. Peak says, “Tim just agreed to help us out.”

Us? What the fuck does Cal have to do with the music class?

“He’s also going to see if we can hold the fundraiser at the foundation.”

Cal smiles lovingly at Ms. Peak. “Thank you for helping out in here for the past couple of months,” he tells me. “Grams hasn’t been able to stop raving about your many talents.” His eyes tell me he’s not nearly as impressed as she is.

“I didn’t realize you two were related,” I say, because clearly, this is news to me. I wonder if Milah knows.

“We don’t advertise it much.” Ms. Peak laughs. “Besides, Cal has no use for the music room. Ever since he was a child, he’s hated music.”

“You hate it?” What kind of person hates music?

Cal shrugs, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I prefer talk radio.”

Wow. Talk radio.

No one speaks in that moment, because what can you say about talk radio? Nothing.

“Will Milah be coming with you to the car wash?”

Uh, yeah, that’s a solid no if he’s going to be there. I won’t have him eyeing her tits while she insists on helping and getting herself soaked.

“I think she has something going on,” I lie.

I have stooped to epic lows.

“Oh, okay. Well, I need to get back to class.” He hugs Ms. Peak and tips his chin to me. “See ya later.”

I nod. I can’t act shitty to Cal. Other than pining after my girl, he’s done nothing awful, except maybe enjoying talk radio. But he’s been cordial around me and Milah both, so whatever. He’s fine. For now. Unless he decides to act on his feelings for Milah. Then we will have a problem.

Ms. Peak taps my shoulder, getting my attention and then repeating herself so I can read her lips. “There’s a talent show in two weeks. I’d like for you to participate in it.”

“No.”

I refuse to perform in front of others.

“Why? You’re incredible. The kids would love to see you in action. The world’s most prized piano prodigy….”

“No. I haven’t been a prodigy in a long time. I don’t want to do it.”

There is no way I am getting up on a stage, fearing any mess up. The door to the music room swings open farther. Cal never shut it fully. I know it’s her just by the smell of the fruit-scented lotion she uses.

She signs, using her words for Ms. Peak and Oliver at her side. “What if we do it with you?”

“Yeah!” the little boy at her side cries, bouncing in excitement. “I want to participate.”

Glaring, I focus my attention on Ms. Peak as if saying,now look at what you’ve done.

“I don’t think I can,” I tell them honestly. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that much…” Attention? Eyes? Stress? Digging up the bones of my past? “Of a crowd.”

“But we would be with you,” Oliver negotiates as he plops down in a desk, already pilfering through my lunch bag for the dessert he knows Breck packed for him.

“I know, kiddo, but—”

---