Harsh, discordant, and lack of harmony

Composition: "String Quartet No. 19" by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

******

According to the internet, the average person makes about 35,000 choices everyday.

Some choices are minor. But some of them were enormous. The type of choice that can change the trajectory of your life forever. It's the choices that left you pacing in your room until the early morning, racked with anxiety and fear.

Some people could make the choice with confidence and a proud smile on their face.

I was never that person.

That was why I was not surprised when I heard an awfully familiar voice say, "Why are you just standing there?"

At the sound of my mother's voice, all my thoughts stood still. Then I heard the sound of my mother's heels clicking against the hardwood floors in our kitchen.

"I'm looking at my options," I said, gesturing to the bowl of the fruit, looking between the bananas, oranges, and one lonely apple on top. I didn't know how long I stood there, trying to pick a snack.

She looked at me, eyebrows raised not from agitation - but from disappointment. She sighed loudly and took the apple and gave it to me.

"Apple is probably the best. It has fiber," she decided for me. "Don't make me worry about you more than I have to."

I nodded, holding the apple tightly. "I won't." I took a bite robotically. Not because I necessarily wanted it but because it's easier than deciding whether I actually wanted it.

"You can't just stand here all day," she commented. She went to the sink to wash the remaining dishes. "I was looking at an email that your guidance counselor sent. Did you know the early decision deadline for Harvard is coming up?"

I nodded.

"Yeah I saw it," I responded plainly, taking another bite.

"You should make an early decision. You are locked in and it's less stressful. They have a great biology program," she continued.

I felt numb. Mom never kept her dreams of me applying for Harvard a secret. It was probably the only thing in her mind when she pushed me to get top grades, extracurriculars, and ensuring I write the best essay to get in.

She pushed even when I was hesitant. She was a firm believer of the adage "fake it until you make it."

And I definitely was feeling more of the first part.

"I don't think it's really necessary," I tried to object.

My mother gave me a frustrated sigh, a typical response of her when we argued. She eyed the plate like it was the devil, shaking her head and making a tutting noise.

"Well what do you want to study?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I don't know."

"Exactly," my mom said, already knowing the rest of my answer. "So why not try to become a doctor? You're smart and good at sciences-"

"That isn't what I meant," I said, though I didn't know what I exactly meant.

Right on cue, my father walked in.

His six foot stature slowed down as he eyed the two of us suspiciously. He became good over the years of sensing when he was walking into a landmine.

He was all too familiar with this argument. Instead of becoming involved, he immediately went for the fruit bowl to take the banana - only taking a fraction of the time it took me.

"Chris?" my mother asked anyway, gesturing to me. "Can you talk to Peyton about making life choices?"

He turned to her, eyes wide with a yogurt in his hand.

Unpeeling the banana, he turned to her and finally answered, "Leave her be, Lisa. She knows herself best."

I smiled at his comment, though I didn't know how true that was. His comment was rewarded with my mother's glare, but he ignored it, eating his banana in a few bites before tossing out the peel. It was as if he didn't care about Mom's judgement.

He was good at that.

"I just want to make sure our daughter is okay," she protested.

He laughed gently at her protests, and walked towards her to give a quick kiss on the cheek. He glanced at his watch, eyes widening at the time.

"I need to go to work. I promised some colleagues I would help with a presentation. I'll see you both when I get back from dinner with them" he said with an easy smile, probably relieved that he didn't have to argue with my mom.

There was a door slam before my mother turned to me.

"Did you start writing your college essay?" my mother changed the subject. I immediately nodded my head, recalling how many times she asked this summer. She eyed me suspiciously.

"If you have a draft by the time I get back from work, we can review it tonight,," she continued, getting her items ready for work.

"I won't have it ready by then," I said, thinking about the few lines I had written. 

"Why? What are you waiting for?" she asked.

I sat silently, eyeing my empty plate.

I was waiting for the right moment. The moment where I made a decision, and I felt proud to make those decisions. Those decisions where I could stand on the roof and shout out my decisions with pride.

But I wasn't. The thought of making big decisions makes my neck tighten to the point where I was no longer breathing. Those choices were scary.

Too scary for me.

"I just want to make sure applying to Harvard as a binding deal is what I want. Once I get in, I can't choose to go to other schools. There are also really good schools..." I began, but my mother cut me off with a stern look. I never even visited the Harvard campus.

I didn't know what it was like.

"But no school is like Harvard," she said. "I'm not saying you are. I'm trying to make you make good decisions. Ones you won't regret. You'll thank me someday."

I bit my tongue.

I should've said no right there. I wanted to tell her I wasn't truly connected to Harvard the way any college kid would be. There was no dream school I was working towards.

Maybe it was because I had a school chosen for me, but something was missing.

I wondered if I was making the right choice. It terrified me, knowing that if I made the wrong choice, it could possibly be harmful years down the road.

I ended giving a fake smile and saying, "I suppose."

She grinned with pride.

"I'm so proud of you," she continued.

She sighed, and she smiled at me. I couldn't help, but smile at her excitement. It was oddly okay with me since I didn't know what I wanted to be. I did well in biology and chemistry, so it did not seem like a poor option.

I never actually thought of my future until mom brought up becoming a doctor.

I still agreed, "Me too."

I looked outside my window, and I saw a massive truck by our neighbors house, bringing in bed frames and other things. I saw the two moms standing together, looking proud at the furniture that was coming through.

I pointed to the window. "What's happening over there?"

Mom looked over at the window.

"I believe the Johnsons told me they adopted two kids a month ago. I swear they might as well be running a foster home themselves," she commented, laughing at her own joke.

"Really? They already had three children. Two more kids?" Part of me couldn't help but wonder why adopt more, especially when other kids are under the age of ten. Then again, one was a lawyer and one was a teacher so they have the finances and support to handle it.

"They are older. That is what Alicia told me. One thirteen and one seventeen," Mom said, grabbing the car keys from a drawer.

"Oh, that's nice," I commented absentmindedly, staring at the moving van bringing more furniture to the house, probably for them.

How does Mom even know about this?

"They invited us for dinner tonight to meet them. I told them we can come after your piano practice. Is that okay?" Mom asked.

I nodded. When I first started the piano, it's something that clicked with me, one of the rare things that did. When I played, my mind quieted down. Something that I played for hours on end, allowing me to float away from the rest of the world.

"I can make it," I said.

Mom pointed to the house. "Great, you should ask them if they need help with moving people."

I cringed at that suggestion. "What? Mom, that's so weird," I groaned to her. "They will know if I'm watching them."

She looked at me. "Why not? They might need help. You should welcome them.That's the neighborly thing to do."

She had that look. You know, hands on her hips and her eyebrows raised at my comment. Her eyes narrowed slightly at me, and I knew that she wanted me to visit it. While the tone sounded like it was a suggestion,

I finally sighed. "Fine. I think you just want me out of the house."

My mother's eyes twinkled, laughing before she fixed her hair, and looked at me. She patted my shoulder. "You and Alexis have been wallowing around the house this entire summer. You might like them," she told me.

I rolled my eyes at the mention of my little half-sister who was currently asleep.I looked again at the house, and I looked outside again with a twisted face. My mother sighed, rubbing her tired face.

"Fine. If I die. This is your fault," I said as I got up.

I walked up to the front door and I put on my sandals and walked across the lawn towards their home. I walked across the lawn, cutting through any racket that was happening. No one seemed to acknowledge me as I walked up on the porch, and opened the door.

Alicia Johnson opened the door. "Hey Peyton," she said in a gentle tone she generally held. I can hear her husband in the back, talking to someone but hard to tell.

"Hey Mrs. Johnson. I came here to see if you or Mr. Johnson need help," I volunteered.

"That is perfect. Brett and I actually need to pick up something important," she asked, putting the collected toys in her arms into the nearest toy box. "Do you have twenty minutes to spare?"

"Sure."

What could go wrong?

******

"Give me the glue bottle!" I shouted at Brad, grabbing the sticky Elmer's glue bottle from his small hands. He screamed, but I ignored his relentless cries and howling while I placed it above the cabinets away from his reach.

"I'm not a baby. Am I a BABY?" Brad shouted. His light brown eyes flared with anger over his mission for the glue bottle.

Alicia said they would be gone for twenty minutes. It seemed like such a short time.

I turned to look at the clock.

Only ten minutes have passed.

"You're being a baby right now, Brad. Your parents told you to stop eating it," I scolded him, watching him throw another tantrum and exacerbating my current headache.

Not eating glue seemed like common sense, but that was not the case when I caught Brad sneaking an Elmer's glue bottle as an additional dessert to the vanilla pudding for the kids.

I was not going to negotiate with a six year old.

"But I want it," he whined, jumping up and down with annoyance.

I pushed my loose hair back with frustration, attempting to deal with my throbbing forehead and Brad simultaneously. I peered across the kitchen at Elena and Daisy, who were watching their brother fight for the glue bottle. They were scooping vanilla pudding with their spoons, eating it with content smiles.

Daisy got up from her seat, straightened her dress, and planted her hands on her hips. Her sharp eyes narrowed at Brad.

"Bradley Johnson! Stop this instant, and eat the pudding," she snapped at Brad in her bossy tone.

Cringing at his sister's words, Brad's whines quieten down. Watching the family dynamics unravel, Brad trudged his feet to the table, taking a seat next to Daisy. I took the bowl of pudding, and handed it to Brad, which he grudgingly took. Satisfied with her word, Daisy half-skipped back to the table to eat her food.

Daisy was the serious one out of the three, and the most well behaved. Brad calls her a "kiss up" to their parents, but her dark eyes illustrated some levels of maturity and wisdom.

I started to wipe down the kitchen, trying to figure out how I got stuck babysitting. The only events I could recall was knocking on the Johnsons door, and next thing I knew, I was plopped with three kids under my supervision before running away with her husband to pick up the two new kids.

I fell in love with all the kids they brought. Each one with a different reaction. Daisy's strong personality brought the kids together with a sense of guidance as the older sister- a role she fell into naturally. Elena followed along with anything with smiles and cheers while Brad was the mischievous one.

I hope that I can enjoy the new ones that are coming.

"Do you want to play a game with me?" Daisy asked Brad.

Brad snorted, "You guys are boring. I rather play with my G.I Joes."

"G.I Joes are dumb," Daisy muttered, crossing her arms.

"You're dumb."

Before the tension escalated, I heard a noise coming from the garage door. Instant relief coursed through my body. That jarring sound meant that the Johnsons were back. Knowing that familiar sound, all the kids' heads snapped in the same direction of the kitchen door that led to the garage.

"They are here! They are here!" Elena cheered excitedly. She got up from her chair, and rushed towards the door with her pigtails flying behind her. Daisy got up as well slowly. She brushed her dress nicely before walking towards the garage door.

Before I could call for the girls, I saw Brad walking behind me with a small white bottle in his hand and his pudding in the other.

"What are you doing?" I asked in a warning tone. Eyes wide, Brad shoved his hand in the air, waving another glue bottle around triumphantly.

"I'm reclaiming what is mine!" he held up the bottle as a prize. He gave me a victorious smile before running off with his glue and pudding.

"This isn't funny, Brad! Give it to me!" I shouted, following behind Brad. Fear invaded Brad's facial expressions, causing him to run faster with a loud screech.

Despite being afraid, there was a grin on his face followed by a loud giggle. I ran behind, running around the kitchen island in circles, my mind tired from watching them and not in any mood to negotiate.

Next thing I knew, Brad tripped, crashing into the hardwood floors and the glue bottle escaped from his hand. The pudding flew in the opposite direction, soaring into the air before I had a splat.

The bowl dropped to the ground, and rolled in a circle. I ran towards the mess, quickly picking up the different items and placing it aside. I then reached down to pick up Brad from the ground. He was silent. His blonde hair fell over his eyes, which he brushed aside to look up.

He appeared almost distracted.

"You made a mess," I scolded him.

Brad wasn't looking at me. His brown eyes were wide, staring off in the distance. He gulped loudly.

"We are in so much trouble."

Frowning at his words, I turned my head in his direction.

My stomach dropped when the most intense eyes I have ever encountered were staring back at me. Forgetting about the pudding, I watched the strangers eyes narrow between the two of us.

It must be the new guy.

His posture stiffened as he looked down at his black shirt, watching the white pudding glide down his shirt. His eyes flicked towards mine, and I felt my heart pound loudly.

His eyes widened slightly. His dark eyebrows rose questioningly. His hair was dark, a little short on the side but messy on the top, like he didn't care or didn't want to look like he did. When he glanced at her, I noticed his eyes were hazel.

There was a shadow beneath them, something watchful. It left me with no words.

He left me with no words.

I grabbed a napkin left on the counter as I said, "I-I-I'm so sorry. That was by accident and I-"

"Don't worry about it," was all he said, holding his hands up to push mine away. He was looking at his shirt blankly as if he did not process what happened. His hand was rubbing the side of his temple, eyes closing tightly.

I went in front of him, dabbing his shirt to remove any excess pudding. While I was successful in removing some of it, there was still an outline on his shirt.

"I have napkins-"

"I said don't worry about it," the boy emphasized more sternly, pushing my hand aside.

Without giving the stain another thought, he turned around and dragged his bag across the living room, and down the hall.

He entered a random guest bedroom and slammed the door shut.

I blinked at the closed door down the hall.

What the hell just happened?

"That's Kennedy," Brad whispered in awe.

Though he was referring to the boy, I realized Brad was looking at the doorway that led towards the garage. Following his direction again, I looked at the girl clutching a suitcase in her hand. I turned my head to look at the lovestruck Brad.

There might as well have been a cupid shooting an arrow at him.

The girl walked into the kitchen quietly, her eyes darting in different directions. Her hazel eyes were more green than her brother's, accessing her surroundings. Her hands were shoved into her worn out jeans, appearing like a typical teenage girl.

Noticing us, her eyes widened.

"Have you seen my brother?" she asked. Her voice was soft and soothing. It almost made me put my guard down, and made Brad open his mouth slightly.

"He went into one of the rooms," I responded, pointing down the hallway. The girl nodded, following the direction of my finger. Brad stuck out a hand.

"I can escort you there," he introduced himself a bit too eagerly.

She eyed his hand curiously. She looked at me, but I only shrugged. She tentatively took his hand, and he led her down the hallway towards the boy's room as Brad promised.

"Does my son have his first crush? He's only six," Alicia Johnson asked, dropping her purse on the counter and running her fingers through her dark hair. Her other arm was used to hold Elena, who was smiling at me.

We all looked at Brad with fascination as he attempted to talk to the girl.

"We just need to remind him that technically she's his sister now," Brett Johnson commented behind her.

Elena wiggled out of Alicia's arms, demanding to be put down. She put her down fast enough for her to rush to her sister's side. Daisy was in front of us, watching the girl from a distance with fascination next to Mr. Johnson.

"The kids are sweethearts. I think they will make wonderful additions to our family. I can't wait for you to meet them, Peyton," Alicia said a little too cheerfully.

I stood quietly, turning back towards the door where the angry boy stormed in. The hardened eyes were blank, but yet held meaning. He looked like a man that went through hell and back.

Something deep in my gut told me that he was important.

That hazel eyed dark haired boy was unforgettable.

"Yep. Peachy," I simply responded.

The Johnnsons laughed before they looked down.

"Is that pudding on the floor?"

And that was my cue to leave.

Author's Note:  Some changes but trying to stick to the essence of the story!