My Hero without a Mask

Nikki- tomboy, brown wavy hair, tan, brown eyes, talkative, good at sports
Haven- shy, long straight blonde hair, blue eyes, pale, loves to sing and dance and play piano
Zane- tan, light brown hair, blue eyes, sings and plays guitar
Jonas- Nikki’s bf, black hair, one earring in his left ear, grey-green eyes

Chapter 1

chapter one

I’m alone in the music room at school. I stay late after school to play piano.
The music teacher allows me to. She doesn’t stay. She just asks me to lock up when I am done. I walk to the piano and play an original song that I wrote. I look around. I don’t see anyone, so I sing along:

All alone in my own world
Far enough away from you, from everything
Can’t help but wonder why,
This has to happen to me,
Am I too weak?
Am I too strong?
Am I finally actually done?
Because, all that I want to do is escape and run away.
I want to walk out the door for the last time.
I don’t want to go through the pain anymore.
Someday, maybe I will escape and runaway.

I pause and look at the door. I gasp. A boy in my grade is standing there watching me sing and play. No one has heard me sing since Mom died five years ago. She was the only person that I would sing to. Now, I’m stuck living with my dad. He used to be happy, until five years ago. After her death, his way of coping with things was to go and get drunk and then come home and yell and abuse me, so I stay late at school, and I stay most nights at my best friend Nikki’s house.

“No, don’t stop. You sounded good.” He says.

“I-I umm I-I have to go.” I stutter. I walk out of the door.

“Hey!” He calls after me.

I turn around. “What?” I ask.

“What’s your name?” He asks.

“Haven.” I reply.

I face away from him and walk towards the front of the school.

He follows me. “I’m Zane.” He says. I nod. We are in front of the school. I pull out my cell phone and start dialing Nikki’s number. “What are you doing?” He asks.

“I’m calling my friend for a ride.” I respond.

“You don’t need to. I’ll drive you.” Zane says.

“Really?” I question him.

He nods. “Sure.”

Zane leads me to his car. A silver Cadillac.

I sit in the passenger seat and tell Zane how to get to my house.

“So, how did you learn to play like that?” Zane asks.

“My mom taught me.” I answer.

“She must be amazing.” He comments.

I nod. “Yeah, she was.”

“Was?” Zane seems confused. I don’t say anything. “Oh.” He says.

Zane turns on the radio. 80s rock. That’s my mom’s favorite music. I can almost hear her singing along in her beautiful soprano voice. I feel a tear streak down my face. I turn out the window so that Zane won’t see me. We pull up in front of my house. I look at the one story with a look of despair on my face. My dad’s car is in the driveway. I shakily reach for the door handle, but Zane drives away.

“What are you doing?” I ask, confused.

“I can tell that you don’t want to go home, so I thought that I would take you to Baskin Robins for ice cream.” He says.

“Why?” I ask.

“Because, I’m a nice person, and you’re pretty.” I blush. No one has ever called me pretty. My dad goes on and on about how ugly and stupid I am. “Will you stop giving me such short responses? It’s getting annoying.” He complains.

I giggle. “Nope.” I say. He sticks his tongue out at me. “Just kidding.” I say.

“Haven, why don’t you ever sing? You are really good. You could get somewhere in life.”

I shake my head. “I don’t really like to talk about it.”

“Oh.”

“What about you?” I say, changing the subject. “What are you good at?”

“I play guitar. Sing a little, but I’m not any good.” Zane says.

“You don’t know that.” I say.

“I’m horrible.” He claims.

I laugh. “Prove it!”

“No.”

“Please.” I beg.

He sighs. “Fine. What do you want me to sing?”

“Stronger by Kelly Clarkson.” I say, demanding my favorite song. I feel like the song was written for me.

He sings the chorus.

I clap. “OMG! You are amazing!” I exclaim.

“No, I’m not.” He claims.

“Yes, you are.” I say.

“No.”

“Yes.”

We arrive at Baskin Robins. I get mint chocolate chip and Zane gets cookies and cream.

“What song were you singing earlier?” Zane asks me as we take our seats at a booth.

“It’s a song that I wrote.” I say.

“It was amazing!”

I blush. “Thanks.” I say.

“I have an idea!” Zane says excidedly.

“Okay, what?”

“You become famous and sing songs!” He explains.

“Are you crazy?! I can’t do that! I freaked out when you saw me sing!” I shout.

“Don’t worry. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“The audience could hate me!” I say.

“That’s not going to happen.” He says.

“Why not?” I question him.

“Because, you’re amazing.” He says, causing me to blush.

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