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❛ ᴏᴄᴇᴀɴ ᴇʏᴇꜱ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ᴊᴜʟɪᴇᴛ ғɪɴᴅs ʜᴇʀ
ɢʀᴏᴏᴠᴇ ꒱


❝ 'COURSE, GOLLUM ❞

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"Now, this happens to be my favorite room in the Philadelphia Museum of Art. These abstracts are open to personal interpretations so I want each other to pick out a piece of artwork that speaks to you. Then, speak to us about how it speaks to you," Mr. Feeny instructed the class as they walked into the next exhibit.

Juliet studied each piece briefly to decide which one she wanted when movement caught her attention. Shawn and Angela had walked up to Cory and Topanga; the former pair had been spending quite a bit of time together since the break up which had only enforced her desire to have space from her friends. Still, she was close enough to hear their conversation as the dark-haired boy greeted the other couple. "Hey guys."

"Shawn and I have some great news," Angela announced.

"Hey, me too," Cory agreed.

"Shawn just got in to the photography program," the brunette said as she smiled happily up at him.

"And Angela got an A on her essay: 'Keeping My Black Identity When I Have Three Very White Friends,'" Shawn finished.

"That's great you guys," Topanga congratulated them. "Cory, what was your good news?"

He held up a coin. "I found a penny."

"Oh. That's great too."

"Alright," Mr. Feeny called them back together as he stood in front of a painting. "Who would like to be the first to offer an interpretation of this for the class?"

Cory raised his hand and waved it in the air energetically. "Oh pick me, Mr. Feeny! Please! Please!"

"Well, how can I turn down that kind of enthusiasm? Alright, Mr. Matthews. Give us your interpretation."

The boy walked up to the painting and stared at it for a minute before he faced the class. "I see hands tearing at the fabric of America. You can almost see the old and bitter artist as he predicts total anarchy, higher taxes and the death of the American way."

"Excuse me, but that's totally wrong," a young, blonde girl spoke up from behind him.

He chuckled. "Are you lost little girl?"

"The painting is about the hope for the future and the joy of life. And the artist is not bitter," she explained patiently.

"Look, little girl. You're just a little girl! I'm eighteen years old and you're gonna try and tell me something?" Cory asked mockingly. "No, no, no. You just take your little 'joy of life' and pipe it, sister!" At their teacher's embarrassed motions, he turned to the older man. "What's your problem?"

"No problem," Mr. Feeny replied. "Keep talking. I'm going to enjoy this."

"Excuse me, Mr. Mean Man," the girl countered, "but I know exactly what's in the painting."

"Oh, am I 'Mr. Mean Man?'" the boy echoed sarcastically. "Was I too mean to the little girl, hmm? Go ahead. You can tell me how you know what's in the painting. Go ahead."

"I painted it."

"Yeah, you painted it," he scoffed, then he reached forward to fold his thumb between his fingers. "And I've got your nose."

"Mr. Matthews, give her back her nose."

"Oh, I'm just playing with the kid," he protested.

"Cory, I do believe 'the kid' whose nose you hold is Alexandra Nechita."

"Alexandra Nechita?" Cory repeated with disbelief. Mr. Feeny pointed to the plaque on the wall, causing him to look back and forth comically. He chuckled awkwardly. "Hello. See, this isn't really your nose. It's my thumb, and. . . here."

Mr. Feeny ignored his student to address the girl: "Miss Nechita, I'm a great admirer of yours. I'd be very interested in hearing your thoughts about classic versus modern technique and the impact of the renaissance on the modern palette."

"Feeny, you're drooling, man," Shawn remarked.

"I'm sorry Mr. Hunter, but I get carried away when I see a young person with such extraordinary gifts."

Cory leaned forward. "Are you saying we don't have extraordinary gifts, Mr. Feeny?"

"No, of course not, Mr. Matthews," the man answered. "You also have extraordinary gifts."

"Like what?"

He hesitated before he patted the boy on the shoulder. "You have your health, good for you. Step aside while I talk to the genius." His gaze fell on Juliet, who was still looking at the paintings. "Miss Capelwood, would you like to join us?"

The redhead's expression brightened at the question and she hurried over to them. "It's lovely to meet you," she told the blonde. "I'm Juliet."

"Alexandra," she responded politely.

Mr. Feeny put a gentle hand on the girl's back to guide the pair away from the rest of the group. "What are you doing in Philadelphia?"

"There's a showcase of my earlier work."

As the trio went to look at another portrait, Shawn watched them go. "Wow. She has earlier work. I'm not surprised that Feeny included Julie under the 'genius' label."

"Wait a minute," Cory interjected. "I'm eighteen and I have no work at all."

"It's okay, Cory," Topanga reassured him. "Everybody can't be a great painter."

"Yeah, but she's, like, as old as my sister and she already knows what she's good at." He pointed at the redhead. "There's no need to mention that, is there?"

His words caught the interest of the younger girl. "You have a sister my age?"

🌎🌎🌎

"I don't know," Juliet commented to Rachel when they had lunch together the next day. "At the risk of sounding like Cory, just looking at everything she'd done before even becoming a teenager made me feel like I've missed out."

Rachel shrugged. "Not every one can be so good at one thing. Most people are just average and are happy with that."

"Yeah," the redhead agreed, "but I don't want to be average. I've always done my best to be the smartest in the room save for Topanga and Minkus— sorry, Stuart. I'm not a certified genius or anything but my grades prove that I'm smarter than most. It still doesn't feel like enough."

"Do you have any special talents? I can recite the alphabet backwards if you want a demonstration."

She chuckled. "No thanks, I'm good. The only thing that I can think of is that I have a pretty good ear for music. There's a lot of songs that I can identify within the first ten seconds."

"That's pretty impressive," Rachel stated. "And you do love music. Have you ever thought of playing an instrument?"

"Well. . . yeah, actually," she admitted. "I know how to play My Girl on the guitar since my uncle taught me. It felt. . . right, y'know? I haven't done it since then, though."

"Maybe you should try again," the older girl suggested. "Kendrick— that guy I told you about— he can play, like, ten different instruments. He's always in the music room when he's not in class. I bet he could get you in the band."

Juliet rolled her eyes. "Please, Rach, I'm not going to be a band geek. Cory and—" Her words caught on the name Shawn. "—well, you know, always made fun of them."

"There's also orchestra," the redhead pointed out. "That's more elegant. Giving it a try wouldn't hurt."

She quieted as she thought and focused on taking a bite of her tuna melt. It was true that picking up an instrument had been a returning thought ever since she'd played her uncle's guitar. She remembered the way the instrument had felt in her lap and how the strings had pressed against her fingers. She remembered the awe that came from creating sound just by plucking the strings and the eager, happy look that had been on her uncle's face as he taught her. And, finally, she remembered the promise she'd made to herself while standing in front of Monet's Starry Night half a year ago.

"Yeah, alright."

🌎🌎🌎

The Fine Arts building was located on almost the other side of campus so Juliet had never been there. After stopping to look at a few maps along the way, she finally arrived at the gray, angular building. She supposed that because it was for the arts that it had a reason to have so many unnecessary angles and corners. She pushed open the glass door and located the stairs as Rachel had described to go to the practice rooms, which were in the basement.

When she entered the hallway, each side was occupied by a series of small cubicles that had doors framed by narrow glass windows on either side. Some of them were in use and students could be seen practicing their various instruments, though the corridor itself was quiet. She passed the band practice room whose doors were closed, the small ensemble room and the back entrance to the stage which was on the first floor. The orchestra room was at the very end and as she walked closer, she could hear faint music coming from it.

It grew louder as she paused at the entrance to the large room and her eyes fell on a dark-skinned man who sat at the piano. His back was to her but she could watch how effortlessly his fingers moved over the keys. He seemed completely absorbed in the song and didn't even seem to register her presence, so she kept quiet and listened while he played as she didn't want to interrupt him.

The piece was light and airy with bouncing notes that were definitely Mozart's style. Juliet's brows furrowed slightly as she tried to figure out what song it was since she'd gotten a much broader classical range from the introduction her father had given her. It was over quickly and she spoke before he had a chance to continue: "that's Mozart, right?"

The man jumped slightly at the sound of her voice but when he turned to face her, he nodded. "Right on the nose. Do you recognize it?"

"Only the composer. What's the name of the piece?"

"Eine Kleine Gigue," he informed her. "You're the redhead Treebeard told me about?"

"Treebeard?"

"Sorry, Rachel. You know, because she's so tall, so she's like an Ent," he explained with a grin. "I give all my friends Lord of the Rings nicknames. I'm a bit of a fan."

"Good to know," she replied with a laugh. "But that makes sense. You're Kendrick?"

"Yep. She mentioned that you had an interest in music? Although," he added, "I could tell since you knew Mozart."

"Yeah. I don't really have any experience, though."

"Don't worry about it," Kendrick assured her. "Everyone starts at point zero. Have you ever thought about what instrument you might want to play?"

"Er— yes," Juliet admitted. "Strings. I know it's kind of silly but my uncle plays the guitar and. . . it felt right, y'know?"

"I know."

"Here, look." She dug around in her jean pocket and pulled out her uncle's present. "He gave me this because apparently all guitarists carry around a lucky pick."

He chuckled. "Well, I'm not a guitarist so I wouldn't know. Can I see it?"

"Sure," she agreed, and handed him the yellow pick. "But be careful with it— it's precious to me."

The man's expression lit up. "'Course, Gollum."

Her eyes narrowed. "Excuse me?"

"Gollum because you said precious. And you're short. And I haven't nicknamed anyone that yet."

"I'm honored," the redhead responded sarcastically. "It's every girl's wish to be called a selfish, twisted character."

"I'm glad," Kendrick remarked with a grin as he blatantly ignored her tone. "But now we have to be friends since I've given you a nickname."

"Whatever. Are you going to take me on a music tour or not?" she asked as she took the guitar pick back from him.

He gave her a little nod. "You're a little firecracker, aren't you?"

"Sure, sure. Instruments now?"

The brunet laughed at her enthusiasm and gestured for her to follow him. "Come on, Gollum. How much did you like the guitar?"

"It was alright, but I think what I'd really like to try is the violin. Vivaldi's Four Seasons is my favorite and I'd love to play it for my dad someday." She sat in the indicated black, plastic chair as he nodded again to acknowledge her words.

"Wait here, I'll be right back." He returned not too long after from the storage room with a slightly-used violin case in his one of his hands. The other held a similarly-shaped case, though it was bigger. "I took the liberty of adding some other strings to the list in case something doesn't work out. These are the school's, which you can rent, but if you really like playing them and intend to continue, I'd highly suggest in investing in your own."

"Duly noted," Juliet conceded and she took the bigger case from his hands. "I'm going to guess Viola?"

"Right again. Is that a common thing for you?"

"You could say that," she admitted sheepishly. She carefully undid the latches on the black carrying container. Inside was an older Viola with a warm, brown wood that made up the body and strings that attached to the slender neck.

It had been a long, long time since she'd been so excited to try anything and she took a deep breath to quell her nerves as she reached for the instrument. It was oddly large and bulky in her hands but she knew it was just something to get used to. Juliet looked up at the man expectantly. "Alright, what now?"

Gently, he began to instruct her on the correct position to hold the instrument and where the hand positions were. It was a bit of an awkward stretch but again, the comfort was something that came with practice.

"This is A," he explained as he placed her fingers properly on the strings. "The tuning note for most instruments. There's quite a bit of exercises you can do to get used to the hand position, but we'll start with this to see if it's something you even like."

Juliet sent him a curious look. "What's your major? I'm only asking because you seem to know so much."

Kendrick smiled slightly. "History, actually. Music runs in my family so I've been around it all my life."

"Rachel said you could play ten instruments?"

"Yep. Piano, several types of saxophone, flute, trumpet, a bit of drums, trombone and tuba. Basically anything that could be jazz or classical."

"You're trying to make me look bad," the redhead teased him.

"Nah, just showing you what's possible. Here." He handed her the bow. "The trick is to get the pressure just right. If you hold down on the strings too hard, the sound won't come out. Too light and you won't hear anything."

The bow wobbled in the air a little due to her shaky hands but as she released a breath, Juliet carefully ran it along the strings. A deep, resonant sound came from the instrument and a thrill ran through her at the power of it. Her eyes flicked up to meet Kendrick's whose expression was extremely encouraging. "Very good! That's exactly what you're looking for. Why don't you try again so you can get used to it?"

Beaming at her success, she repeated the motion several more times, each more confident than the last until the put the Viola down. "I'd really like to try the Violin if you don't mind."

"Of course," he concurred. He took the instrument from her to return it to its case. In exchange, he handed her the Violin.

She nearly dropped it in her nervous excitement. She fumbled with the clasps before she took it out of the protective case. Remembering the position of the Viola, she mimicked the hold and earned a pleased look from the man. "You're a fast learner."

"So I've been told," she responded.

"Here, this is A on the Violin. It's a bit different from the Viola." He showed her the distinction.

This time, when the note sounded in the room, she could almost feel her body vibrating along with it. A stronger thrill than before swept through her, as did the sudden desire to learn everything she could about the instrument. "This is it," Juliet breathed. Her eyes were wide as she met the brunet's gaze.

"I thought it might be," Kendrick confessed. "Welcome to the world of music, Gollum." 

[written oct. 2021]
[edited jun. 2022]