Read Online Stacy's Song by Jacqueline Seewald - Free Book Online Page B

tile.
    â€œLooks like a job for Spaceman,” I said.
    â€œNope, that’s not me anymore.”
    Mom looked at each of us. “I don’t care who does it but the trash better be out before I come back here.” With that, she left the room.
    â€œIt’s a job for Mutant Girl.” Andy pointed at me.
    â€œOh yeah?” I grabbed Andy by the front of his sticky T-shirt. “I think it’s a job for a bratty kid. If I’m forced to take out the trash, I’m dumping you in it.”
    â€œI’ll tell Dad!” Andy said, playing the Big D card.
    I glar ed at him hands on hips. He took the garbage out to the can without further comment. I guess there are some advantages to being the large economy size after all.
    *** *
    That evening, I went to the Norris house for band practice. Nothing had changed much in the ten days I was away. I still wondered what Liz had meant by a surprise, and once or twice I caught sight of Liz and Jimmy exchanging knowing smiles or looks and wondered if it had anything to do with the surprise.
    We usually took a break at nine, with Liz serving a sm all snack at that time. Tonight Michael changed the routine and called for a break at eight. Liz brought out chocolate chip cookies and lemonade. We kicked back, relaxed and talked for a while. I told them how beautiful Canada was. Liz and Jimmy both agreed they would like to go there someday. I thought they meant they’d like to go together. Mic hael seemed preoccupied and did little talking.
    After we demolished the cookies Liz turned to him. “Don’t you think it’s time to tell Stacy?”
    â€œTell me what?”
    â€œIt’s no big thing. Liz tends to over-dramatize.” He actually sounded nervous.
    â€œCome on , Michael , it’s time to let Stacy judge for herself.” Liz seemed impatient with him.
    Michael returned to the piano and started playing. At the same time, Liz handed me a copy of the music. The work was entitled: Stacy’s Song , printed in the clear neat writing I had come to associate with Liz. The song Michael played was the most beautiful thing I have ever heard. It had an incredible melody and the orchestration was unique. But there wer e no words, not that the music needed any. I was so moved that when he finished playing, I just sat there, unable to applaud or articulate a word.
    â€œYou don’t like it do you?” he asked.
    I was jolted into a response. “Are you kidding me? I love it! It’s so passionate.”
    â€œMichael wrote it especially for you,” Liz sa id. But she needn’t have spoken. I understood.
    â€œGrea t stuff,” Jimmy approved, “Mike , I think it needs lyrics.”
    â€œI want Stacy to write them,” Michael responded. “It’s her song.”
    â€œThat makes sense,” Jimmy agreed.
    â€œMichael , you know I can’t do that,” I protested.
    â€œSure you can. Anyway the song will wait for you until you’re ready for it,” he said. There was an air of finality in his voice that informed me of the futility of arguing.
    I took the copy of the music from Liz and placed it into my handbag. “Thank you. It’s a wonderful gift. I’ll always treasure it. I’m afraid you’ll ha ve a long wait for those lyrics though.”
    â€œThat’s all right. When there’s something worthwhile at s take I can wait. I wrote another song while you were away. It’s a duet. I want you to sing it with me.”
    Liz h anded me another sheet of music and I looked it over carefully.
    â€œLet’s run through it,” Michael said. “I’ve been waiting for you to return before we tried this one out.”
    It seemed as if they had all been waiting for me; I felt as if I belonged. I’d come home in the true sense. We played it through once on the instruments: Michael on piano, Jimmy on drums, Liz on lead guitar and me on bass guitar. Then Michael had