Chapter 5

“Nope. No. No no no no no this isn’t real. This isn’t real! I’m out!” I ripped the hoodie off and threw it at Rockett. “What did you do to me?” I screamed at him.

I turned and bolted back the way we had come. I slammed my hand on the elevator call button and kept hitting it, desperately needing to be out of this freakshow. The elevator finally arrived and I darted inside and backed up against the far wall, expecting Hannah or one of the others to appear to stop me before the elevator doors closed.

It wasn’t until the elevator was moving again that I noticed another student in the other corner, eyes wide and staring at me. She clutched a book to her chest. I realized I was breathing heavily and I had probably stormed the elevator like a bat out of hell. We didn’t speak and when we arrived on the first floor, she all but sprinted away from me. I understood how she felt.

I walked quickly out of the library doors and it was full dark by this point. I didn’t have a destination in mind, I just kept moving away from everything behind me. Like I always did. I shoved that thought back down where it belonged, and realized I didn’t know what to do. I just let my feet take the lead and it wasn’t until I was punching in the after-hours code to the band hall that I realized I needed to spend time with my music. I gathered my saxophone and sheet music from my locker, and then some of the piano music I had for my end-of-semester student recital.

I settled into a practice room and started to play. The comfort of my instrument in my hands and the very act of bringing the music on the page to life eased my mind. My saxophone, an alto, had been one of the last presents my mother had given me. Before. It wasn’t new, and it wasn’t some top-of-the-line professional series. My years of marching band since had warped the edge of the bell to the shape of my grip. I had replaced the neck and even gotten a fairly expensive mouthpiece for it. The case was slightly battered, and I pre-emptively began duct taping the corners to keep the material from peeling away.

Mr. Jones had openly scoffed at my instrument when I auditioned for a scholarship. He asked to play it, and in his hands it sang. The lowest notes were clear and supported and then he jumped the register to play in the altissimo effortlessly. I had taken my instrument back and in a fit of pique had played his exercise back for him, note for note, rhythm for rhythm. He didn’t even make me run scales after that, just through a single sight-reading piece and my prepared pieces, "Adagio and Allegro for alto saxophone" and "Tableux de Provence." I was hoping the second piece would be enough to not only grant me access to the program, but actually award me scholarship. It had sufficiently impressed him that I was one of three people who were awarded a full-tuition scholarship for music performance. He still harassed me all the time about getting a new instrument, but despite his repeated declarations that I could just “get my parents to buy one,” that really wasn’t an option. I made do, and he tolerated my horrifying, low brow instrument because I didn’t slack off.

I played for over an hour and eventually my cheeks were starting to burn and my tone was slipping. I turned to the piano. My piano lessons with Dr. Daniel Cappitani were a very different experience. He had been a child prodigy, and awarded his doctorate in piano performance at 24 years old. At 18, he was one of two Americans invited to the International Vienna Piano Competition. After working his way through the three competitive rounds, he was the first American to win the whole thing. The conductor of the Vienna orchestra allegedly told him, “Bach smiles upon you.” He keeps the trophy in his office, and it says, “Weiner Klassik.”

Where Dr. Jones is usually on a barely functional rager, Dr. Cappitani has occasionally gotten bored of giving lessons to students. Twice so far, he’s stopped me in the middle of a piece and we would walk down the street to Sonic and get a burger. He also has a standing wager that if anyone can beat him in racketball, they wouldn't have to give a semester recital and will just receive an A for the course. He stomped me 21-3 in our best match. He was also the most well-liked teacher in the music school, and there’s a video of him that occasionally goes viral where he is dressed in all black robes and plays a bunch of Star Wars compositions. At the end, he stands up to give his bow, but he pulls out a light saber. The red light fills the tube just as the lights cut out, and he whispers, “Hail the Sith.” Since that day, everyone just refers to him as Lord Cappitani.

My fingers kept stumbling across the keys as I tried to get them to line up on “L’avalanche, Op. 45. No. 2.” It’s not even a hard piece. I was just done. I was tired. I was exhausted, really. I didn’t want to think. I didn’t want to deal with what happened. I wanted my music to get me through this and for magic hoodies to have never existed. What had they done to me? Besides almost killing me, I mean. How could I see at night? What had happened on the 9th floor? There was no way I could go study there anymore. Not if that’s where they were.

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I gathered my sheet music up and just sat there, holding it. I wasn’t going to cry. Sure, I had just lost my only other safe space on campus besides the practice rooms. Sure, I had almost gotten roped into some weird cult. They had done something to my eyes.

I suddenly realized I didn’t have my phone. It must still be at John David’s apartment. I groaned and gently banged my head on the piano keys, the discordant tinkling matching how mixed up I felt inside. On top of everything, the last thing I had eaten was cheesecake. That at least gave me the motivation to do something. I packed up my gear and stepped out into the hall. John Willie was sitting in a chair a few rooms down. He was wearing his hoodie. I froze for a second, and then walked up to him.

“I need to get my phone from the apartment.”

He held it out to me.

I had to slip the sheet music under my armpit to have a free hand to grab the phone and put it on my pocket. I hesitated for a brief pause and then kept walking down the hallway.

“Sorry,” his voice came out quietly.

I slowed my steps, and with a heavy sigh turned around.

“For what, exactly? Because I don’t even know what’s happening anymore.”

“I guess for everything? For how we handled all of this. It’s all so new to us still. And it’s pretty obvious we scared you with everything. It’s got all of us pretty rattled.”

“It’s got you rattled?” My voice came out loud and sharp.

John Willie flinched and put his head down, and then he slowly climbed to his feet, “Look man, I get it. We basically grabbed you and explained nothing and all sorts of weird stuff happened and you freaked out. That’s absolutely understandable. And justified. Completely.”

“Well, thank you for your understanding,” I snapped. “That doesn’t change the fact that you all almost killed me, that I could see in the dark, that you’re apparently psychic, and that there’s a secret realm on the 9th floor of the library that only magic hoodies can see!” At this point I was shouting. “I don’t know how I didn’t freak out earlier. Every single time I’ve asked a question, it’s always been, ‘You’ll see.’ Well, see this. You’re all crazy. I didn’t ask for this. I don’t know why you thought I would fit into your crazy club, but I don’t. I just want to be left alone.”

I made myself quit talking, because I felt my voice starting to shake and I didn’t want him to notice.

He didn’t speak. He looked like I had backed him against a wall and thrashed him. Even through my anger, I didn’t miss the sorrow in his eyes. There was actual pain there. And as someone who’s had my share of pain, I hated causing it. I tried to stay angry. I really did. Instead I gritted my teeth and let the silence build.

“Why you?” I finally asked.

He furrowed his brow slightly at my question.

“Why you?” I repeated. “Why are you here? Why not one of the others?”

He nodded in understanding. “You disappeared.”

“What?”

“You disappeared. The way Rockett tells it, one minute you were behind them in the library, and the next you shouted and then the hoodie hit him in the back of the head. And you were gone. They didn’t know what had happened. It scared the hell out of us. They searched the entire library, and there was a girl at the front desk telling the librarian that there had been someone in the elevator who had scared her. She described you. That's how we knew you weren't somewhere else. Abigail and Hannah tried to find you at your dorm. John David and Rockett made a search of the campus. I…please believe the next part. I looked in…other ways. I got your hoodie from John Willie and I was able to follow you here. He gave me your cell phone too.”

I stared at him. He swallowed hard and continued. “I was able to follow your steps. Your actions. It’s one of my enhancements. I used your code to get in the building, and then I followed the sounds of your saxophone. I’ve been here for awhile just listening. You’re really good.”

He trailed off. I still didn’t speak for a long time. John Willie shifted on his feet. My arm was getting tired from holding the saxophone case and I shifted my grip.

“You used your psychic powers to find me?” I clarified.

He grimaced and shrugged his shoulders.

“So magic hoodies really are real.”

“We don’t know that they’re magic…”

“And you use them to go on adventures. Like stealing cheesecake from school cafeterias. Anything else?” I deadpanned.

John Willie looked up at me. His eyes narrowed for a split second and then widened excitedly. “We help people. A lot. We go places. We learn. We see incredible stuff. Do you want to meet a dragon?” the words came tumbling out faster and more energetically.

I would have bet money that I had reached my shock threshold for the year, but I’m not sure which dropped faster, my jaw or my saxophone case clattering to the floor.

He hurried towards me, with his hands raised in front of his chest. “I’m dead serious. Please believe me. I know we’ve royally screwed this all up. And if you still want to be done with everything, then I will respect that completely. But you’re one of us. I promise you, you are.”

There it was. The same earnestness and life that I had seen in Hannah and Abigail when they first approached me. He really and truly believed in his words. It was tangible. I felt the hairs on my neck rise. I don’t think I’ve ever believed anything like that. He either was perfectly delusional, or this upper classmen knew a dragon. And he said I belonged to that world. I really really wanted to belong somewhere.

What’s that old saying? A man with an experience is never at the mercy of a man with an opinion.

Or the one about having to crack some eggs to make an omelet.

I softly nodded and said, “Ok.”

I led him to my locker where I put my instrument and music away, and since my entire world was cracked already, I might as well see what sort of omelet they make out of me.