Prelude (The Rhapsody Quartet) Read Free Page A

nauseated.
    Eased, I settled into a dreamless sleep.
     

 
     
     
     
     
     
    CHAPTER THREE
    Transition
     
    I was officially sixteen when I woke up. I quickly slipped some clothes over my head and noticed with a start that they seemed to fit differently. I glanced into the mirror on my closet door, cocking my head to the side.
    It did look as though I wasn’t swimming in my sweater quite as much as normal. My pants weren’t dragging as much on the floor, either, and my skin was a little brighter than usual, my complexion less sallow.
    I smiled. “Sixteen looks good on you,” I said aloud. I was certainly still bony, but maybe this was the beginning of a growth spurt. Perhaps soon I’d actually grow into my clothes.
    I shoved my books into my backpack. Rick had already left for work, he had an early contract to start, but Susan was in the kitchen.
    “Good morning, birthday girl!” she greeted me enthusiastically. “What can I get you for breakfast?”
    “Hmm…” I thought about it. Susan was a terrible cook— I’d once witnessed her fail at boiling water. There wasn’t much she could make without burning it. I chose something relatively safe, “Maybe some oatmeal?”
    “Perfect!”
    Susan managed to microwave it without incident, and handed me a glass of orange juice. “Did you sleep well?”
    I chewed my oatmeal and nodded. No sense in bringing it up. Susan would only feel obligated to interrogate me, and she might even feel the need to stay home from work. It was too crazy, and besides, I was feeling fine now.
    “So do you feel any different, being sixteen?”
    I pondered the question, “Now that you mention it, I do feel a bit different. More mature maybe?”
    Susan grinned and nodded her head, “I suppose you’ll be wanting your driver’s license?”
    I laughed, “This town is hardly big enough for a car. My legs work fine to get me around.” I glanced at the clock, “Speaking of which, if I want enough time to get to school on these bad boys,” I slapped my thighs to emphasize the point, “I’d better get going.”
    I dropped the bowl off in the sink, rinsing it so the oatmeal didn’t stick, and raced out. I quickly pulled my tennis shoes on and bounded outside.
    I threw some headphones on, clicking on my outdated mp3 player. Susan purchased it for me as a welcome home gift when I’d arrived in Whitecrest. The walk wasn’t far, but it was long enough that I could listen to a few tunes on the way. The song started up, and I frowned. I stopped moving abruptly. It sounded wrong.
    The guitar was flawed, the music off. I wondered if the track was corrupted, and I hit the skip button. The next song was one of my favorites. I smiled as the display flashed the name of my current idol. The vocals began, and I cringed. Normally she sounded so good, so perfect, but today CubicU didn’t hold the same appeal. The beat felt off, too. It was all done electronically, should have been 100% perfect background— but that seemed to make it worse. It felt artificial.
    I turned the player over in my hands, staring at it. Maybe the whole thing had busted. I tried another track.
    It sounded… clumsy. Wrong. Terrible. It was just off, universally, profoundly off. It was like watching someone add two and two and somehow end up with seventeen. There wasn’t even a reason that it should sound like this. I sighed and pulled my headphones off, shoving the whole thing into my ratty backpack. I guessed it was time for a new player.
    I made it to school and slid into my seat just before the bell rang for my first class, history. Mr McGregor was already starting the lesson on the Greek city-states before everyone quieted down.
    I sat in my seat and tugged at my shirt uncomfortably. It seemed like it was too small. I looked down and was surprised to see my belly exposed. My pants looked a little shorter, too. I wondered if I’d accidentally shrunk them the last time I did a load of laundry. So probably not a growth