• I walked quietly down the pathway hoping to hear one last song, a note, even a breath was enough to satisfy my hunger for more. I snuck in behind a elderly couple trying to keep my profile as low as possible. When I finally found a good spot I sat and listened, the melody filled the air like it was ment to be there, like it was there before time, before humans where even here. I sat there and tried to find him, my favorite, the cello player, with his long, cherry finished, bass cello that produced my favorite sound in the entire band, I don't know why I liked it, I just did. Maybe it was because I wanted to be that cello, I wanted him to prop me up against chest and strum me until when ever he stopped. I know that's a little weird, but I can't help it, he was not only an excellent cello player he was exceedingly beautiful, his long, dark grey hair that went perfectly with his hazel eyes, he was tall and lanky, his shirt was always to short to completely cover his muscular arms. Me, I was tall enough, my short red hair framed my face perfectly (or so my friends say), my steel grey eyes were placed above my high cherokee cheekbones that I got from my great grandmother, and my skin is a mix of snow white and olive brown. Even though most of school has perky blondes who are a little to stupid for their own good (example: OMG BECKY!!! LOOK AT HER OUTFIT!!! IT'S SOOO PRETTY!!! Becky: I KNOW CINDI I ABSOLUTELY HAVE TO HAVE ONE!!!!), there are some of us who are different. Like me, Melody, Tiff, and Kiari. They are the only friends I have at this school. Melody was a blonde, her golden locks falling to the middle of her back, and her beautiful green eyes always sparkling with some new piece of information. Tiff was the only black girl at our school, her lovely mocha colored hair fell to her shoulders, and her amber eyes filled with anticipation for the next 'adventure' we were going to have. Some say 'always save the best for last', well in this case I have, Kiari is like my long-lost sister, until we found each other, now we're not lost. With her long black hair falling almost to her butt, and if the sun shone just right, you could see the slightest twinge of purple in it. Her eyes were a lovely shade of violet that, I swear it, could see into your soul. But enough about me and my friends, I want to talk about him. He's not in any of my classes except for band,(I play violin, but I can't remember the notes or else I would be up there playing)and he doesn't notice me there, thank god. I can look like a complete idiot, sometimes worse than the blondes, but once I figure it out, I don't forget, hopefully. I see him in the hallway too, but I mostly just brush past him and make my way to my next class. That's all I see of him, except for here, where he plays. Every once in a while I'll just sit and fantasize about him, I don't know why, it's just a lot of stuff reminds me of him for some reason (like yesterday in the lunch line, how could chicken remind you of anyone? I don't even know if he likes chicken). Maybe I know him from somewhere before, maybe he was my best friend, maybe he just grew up. I don't know anymore, I starting to question why I even like him, I don't know him at all, and sure as hell doesn't notice me. The music stopped again, and Ms.Bleeville, my mentor, was still taking request, an elderly man asked for a song she didn't know, until he spoke up and told her ot was a piece for cello, that's all I could hear before a sweet, familar, longing, melody filled the air again this time I was awake for the entire thing, waiting and watching as his fingers moved delicately across the top strings of his instrument. He didn't finish for the longest time, like he was trying to remember exactlly what the notes were, kinda like me, only I do that with every song. When he finally did finish all of us clapped and I could hear the old geezer say something along the lines of 'Great job, sonny. Just like I remembered it.' I didn't stay after that, which is unusual for me, I normally stay until they were packing up, but I just wanted to go to sleep. As I was walking away, I could feel someone watching me, someones stare moving down my back, following my curves, and moving back up to try to look at my face. It made me tense, wondering who or, what possibly, was looking at me, but I didn't dare look back.