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- Nikkiâ€™s bf, black hair, one earring in his left ear, grey-green eyes
The music teacher allows me to. She doesnâ€™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 donâ€™t see anyone, so I sing along:
All alone in my own world
Far enough away from you, from everything
Canâ€™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 donâ€™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, Iâ€™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 Nikkiâ€™s house.
â€œNo, donâ€™t stop. You sounded good.â€ He says.
â€œI-I umm I-I have to go.â€ I stutter. I walk out of the door.
â€œHey!â€ He calls after me.
I turn around. â€œWhat?â€ I ask.
â€œWhatâ€™s your name?â€ He asks.
â€œHaven.â€ I reply.
I face away from him and walk towards the front of the school.
He follows me. â€œIâ€™m Zane.â€ He says. I nod. We are in front of the school. I pull out my cell phone and start dialing Nikkiâ€™s number. â€œWhat are you doing?â€ He asks.
â€œIâ€™m calling my friend for a ride.â€ I respond.
â€œYou donâ€™t need to. Iâ€™ll drive you.â€ Zane says.
â€œReally?â€ I question him.
He nods. â€œSure.â€
Zane leads me to his car. A silver Cadillac.
I sit in the passenger seat and tell Zane how to get to my house.
â€œSo, how did you learn to play like that?â€ Zane asks.
â€œMy mom taught me.â€ I answer.
â€œShe must be amazing.â€ He comments.
I nod. â€œYeah, she was.â€
â€œWas?â€ Zane seems confused. I donâ€™t say anything. â€œOh.â€ He says.
Zane turns on the radio. 80s rock. Thatâ€™s my momâ€™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 wonâ€™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 dadâ€™s car is in the driveway. I shakily reach for the door handle, but Zane drives away.
â€œWhat are you doing?â€ I ask, confused.
â€œI can tell that you donâ€™t want to go home, so I thought that I would take you to Baskin Robins for ice cream.â€ He says.
â€œWhy?â€ I ask.
â€œBecause, Iâ€™m a nice person, and youâ€™re pretty.â€ I blush. No one has ever called me pretty. My dad goes on and on about how ugly and stupid I am. â€œWill you stop giving me such short responses? Itâ€™s getting annoying.â€ He complains.
I giggle. â€œNope.â€ I say. He sticks his tongue out at me. â€œJust kidding.â€ I say.
â€œHaven, why donâ€™t you ever sing? You are really good. You could get somewhere in life.â€
I shake my head. â€œI donâ€™t really like to talk about it.â€
â€œWhat about you?â€ I say, changing the subject. â€œWhat are you good at?â€
â€œI play guitar. Sing a little, but Iâ€™m not any good.â€ Zane says.
â€œYou donâ€™t know that.â€ I say.
â€œIâ€™m horrible.â€ He claims.
I laugh. â€œProve it!â€
â€œPlease.â€ I beg.
He sighs. â€œFine. What do you want me to sing?â€
â€œStronger by Kelly Clarkson.â€ I say, demanding my favorite song. I feel like the song was written for me.
He sings the chorus.
I clap. â€œOMG! You are amazing!â€ I exclaim.
â€œNo, Iâ€™m not.â€ He claims.
â€œYes, you are.â€ I say.
We arrive at Baskin Robins. I get mint chocolate chip and Zane gets cookies and cream.
â€œWhat song were you singing earlier?â€ Zane asks me as we take our seats at a booth.
â€œItâ€™s a song that I wrote.â€ I say.
â€œIt was amazing!â€
I blush. â€œThanks.â€ I say.
â€œI have an idea!â€ Zane says excidedly.
â€œYou become famous and sing songs!â€ He explains.
â€œAre you crazy?! I canâ€™t do that! I freaked out when you saw me sing!â€ I shout.
â€œDonâ€™t worry. Whatâ€™s the worst that could happen?â€
â€œThe audience could hate me!â€ I say.
â€œThatâ€™s not going to happen.â€ He says.
â€œWhy not?â€ I question him.
â€œBecause, youâ€™re amazing.â€ He says, causing me to blush.