Cobbled Pathway to Vienna

Cobbled Pathway to Vienna
TIME VOYAGERS
By Michelle K. Valdez

Readers - The chanting and music won’t recklessly play in the pages. You have to produce the classical tunes with your own “only one of its kind” existing imagination. Everyone has one. There’s no exception. So, as you turn these flimsy pages on and on until the end, hear the mellow, soothing melodies project in your ears, hear the grief-stricken, murky operas ring in your head, singeing your mind with new creativity until it murmurs as the Voice of God. Music is beautiful. Mozart changed music forever. If you appreciate it, you can change it too. No orchestra can be without basset horns, violins, or tempo as any world can’t be without you. Live your life to the fullest as he did, and you will always be remembered like Mozart. Maybe not for music, in specific, but you can be remembered like him. The music will last forever and ever with everybody.

Introduction

Dedicated to all my closest friends who discouraged me to write this little tale with my reckless obsession with the appealing Mozart; to God who gave me life and this chance; to the real Mr. Shawver (who was a pain in Sam’s ass everyday) who really made us play Brandenburg Sinfonia; to Sam Kaca, a match to the sarcastic, insolent Andy - my stand partner who never failed to make me laugh; to the talkative, smarty-pants Alina Gatowski to my Kelsey; to the real Julien Baur who was the most vicious of the “Gunman” crew; to Daine who was disastrous with his cello and always hesitated to go on a date with Ashley Tolen whenever I asked; to Ben Ryu who was the slouching, bigheaded kid who constantly took his first violin skill for granted; to Reba Paeff Mirsky who wrote Mozart, dated ©1960, which was my most valuable source to my book report on Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart in Miss Warrow’s Language Arts classroom in 8th grade; to Amber Ruocco in resemblance to Gary, believing from the beginning I had an affair with Wolfgang and believing I was actually resentful of Mozart’s wife (“Amber, how could I possibly have an affair with a guy from 200 years ago? And why would I be jealous of his wife?”); to Tom Hulce, the major role of the Mozart in Amadeus with the “obscene giggle”; to my mother and father, who both supported me in everything to allow my writing skill to develop and to be discovered; to the Requiem, Mozart’s most sorrowful yet beautiful piece, gloomy with the organs and hollow choir chanting, yet a new hope; and to all of Berkshire Middle School, a vulgar school, and hostile educational environment, but barely the beginning of my future high school career and only the end of my perverted and twisted, yet cheerful youth. Goodbye thirteen, maybe I’ll see you another day…


To a faraway place, over 200 years ago, where a time a cobbled pathway wound its way through Austria, you would see a small city through the distance. With its charming river scenery and steep mountains, and a small city concealed between, many old buildings barely towered through the shortest hills.
It may seem like a deserted village now, but if you peer closer, you’ll hear the sound of clacking hooves. Through the haze and mist, you’ll clearly see a sudden horse trot through the horizon, reined to a handsome carriage, and a chattering will break throughout the town.
Take another step towards the landscape, and a peculiar language will ring in and out your ears, and the people will come plain to you as old-fashioned. The women hurtling through the streets, holding up their voluminous skirts through the sunshine, and the other hand clasped to their children, curiously eyeing the beggars and wealthy noblemen jogging along the sidewalks.
You sight many tiny shops, meticulously built close together, while horses snort and spring in place, strapped carefully to posts, while you heard music through the distance. Curious to the sounds, you investigate further.
Churches and shops, apartments and a palace, and so many other structures built of fine stone. The city of Salzburg. Though simple and general to larger and more productive towns, it was cheerful with giggling, running children, men and women strolling along grasses, hand in hand, gazing to each other flirtatiously, and common people slipping out stores with bottles of whiskey. No town could be more ordinary.
But, through the thick of people, you’ll see a stoned, four-floor apartment, as ordinary as the others, windows drawn with light curtains. But, softly pull open the heavy door, and trot up the curling staircase to the third floor, and you’ll hear a divine sound at the door. “MOZARTS” you read at the plaque on the carved door, and you slowly pull open a small crack at the entrance.
There, as you would gaze through the sight past the door, a small child, both lovely and adorable in his tousled powdered wig, tied with a delicate black ribbon, sits on his piano chair, squarely towards the harpsichord, running swift hands along the instrument, his tiny hat lain on the base.
His feet dangling from the chair, his legs swing back and forth gradually as he runs graceful hands over the instrument, weaving a sweet tone. The music continues on and on, such notes that are so stunning to the ears. It is undeniable; the boy had talent beyond any other’s dreams. As the tune, straining with so much beauty, continues on, it holds an unbelievable amount of magnificence, for only a harpsichord being played alone.
After the song of harmony and melody, he pulls back the tails of his tiny overcoat, a bit professionally, and his mother applauds breathlessly at her son’s mannish musician skill as he slips down from the seat. Beside him, a fair girl of sixteen, glares towards her younger brother, fists clenched.
“Bravo, Wolferl, bravo! We’re so proud of you--and you too Nannerl! You’ve both been working harder than ever with music, and we’re both very proud of you!” her mother flourishes a handkerchief, dabbing her eyes with it.
“Yes, indeed. Wolferl, you’ve been composing your beautiful music, and Nannerl has been working her heart out for both the harpsichord and clavichord.”
“Papa! Do not forget, I play them too--I even play violin!” he childishly leaps about the room, pointing a quivering finger towards himself, furiously stomping the ground and thrusting his tattered music to his father’s face.
“Wolfgang, a little modesty would suit you well--” his father harshly remarks, expression solemn.
“Humph! Just because you are not as old as me, doesn’t mean you need to fuss. Obviously, you’re recognized by age, not pure talent. Besides, you couldn’t compete with me. Everyone here knows that I’m better than you. And it’s not my fault that Papa won’t let me play violin.” Nannerl tosses back her hair, while Wolfgang shakes a fist towards her in rage, and drops his music, to wrench a curl from her wig.
“WOLFGANG AMADEUS MOZART! Put that hand down--IMMEDIATELY! I’d expect better behavior from you two. You both are young ladies and gentlemen, and I see you doing this? It’s unacceptable!”
“Nannerl, to you, violin is not suitable for young ladies--and you both keep your mouths shut. This is a disgusting display. I’m not pleased.” Leopold says promptly.
Wolfgang closes his mouth and timidly looks to the ground, with not another word. He mumbles a few colorful words under his breath, while his mother eyes him maliciously.
But, Wolfgang gives off a long shout, and scurries for his sister’s neck. The two both pounce on each other viciously, each of them tearing their garments, giving off constant shrieks and squeals. Their mother and father both glance towards each other in panic, and dart for their wrangling children.
The tiny boy frantically wraps arms around a marble post, pulling against his sister, who appears to be giving him a vicious wedgie.
“Well--ouch! At least I can write my own damned music!” his wig is completely tossed off from his head, revealing brisk, golden locks, plummeting along the wooden floor. Wolfgang begins howling with anguish, hopping around the corner, holding his bottom. “It hurts! It HURTS! My undergarment has gone up my bottom! IT HURTS! Papa, pull them down! Pull them down!” he roars, more ferocious than any rodeo bull. Pompously tugging down his pants, he gives Nannerl a wedgie as well.
“Ugh--stop! STOP!” the two both pause for a moment, Nannerl laid back, elbows to the floor, pulling back powdered curls from her crimson face, while Wolfgang is lain on the wood front wards, reaching for his hairpiece. But, the coffee break is over when Wolfgang jams his toupee on his head proudly, and fights, once again.
Leopold and Anna Maria both shake their heads at the scenery of their children fighting. When would it ever change? The two were both hopeless.
Leopold firmly holds back his son while Anna Maria does the same to Nannerl. Wolfgang continues to swing at her, kicking his legs in her direction, while she covers and slaps back. Suddenly, they stop at their parent’s cries.
“Wolfgang--Maria Anna! You two both go to your room and keep quiet! I’m sick to death of this quarrelling! You can both work on your Arithmetic, each at your own desks. If I hear anything from that room about hostility, you’ll get a spanking--understood?” Anna Maria crossly leads her children to the single bedroom, slamming the door behind them. From the crash of the closed door, you hear Wolfgang cheekily comment on the threat and making a rude gesture to his sister.
“You stupid boy! You heard mother! No more arguing, now go to your desk and I’ll keep at mine. Well, don’t just stare, go!” Nannerl mutters, muffled by the closed door.
“Leopold, when do you think it’ll all stop?”
“When we discipline them enough, Maria. They’ll learn from their mistakes.” They both clasp hands and shake their heads at the slapping coming from the bedroom. “They’ll learn someday.”
Meanwhile, hurry along through the room, unseen by Leopold and Anna Maria; you slip into the children’s room. A decorative scenery comes into view, and the two children both have backs turned to each other, seated in luxurious chairs, writing angrily on their parchment.
But, Wolfgang’s golden brows furrowed, they suddenly raise, his expression a bit innocent. Childlike hazel eyes glowing in the flickering candlelight by his dropped quill, framed by long, fair lashes, he stares out through the window into the city.
He ruffles back his blonde, lustrous hair, and sweeps aside his inkbottle, ignoring the numbers written on the parchment. Warily, he turns back to Nannerl, seeing her busy in her studies, and turns back to his desk.
Anxiously, he pulls out his music book, and brandishes his quill, scribbling hurriedly onto the tattered paper. But, with a troubled look, he places the quill back into its bottle, and clasps his hands.
“God,” he whispers, eyes glittering with innocence. “Thanks be to you for my talent. I thank you for everything you’ve given me, and I beg forgiveness for my sin. Though, I have but one request. Please, God, allow my gift to be known through the world. Allow for the many to hear it and be inspired. Sing through me, God. In return, I’ll give you but all the regard for it. Amen.” Wolfgang opens his eyes, gazing through the window to the brilliant sun. It’s a beautiful day, but Wolfgang has to finish his work. So, he snatches back his quill, and begins scribbling again, with the same expression from before. Hopefully, he would get his wish.


Several other students filed in a tight group into the orchestra room, while Andy darted for her locker, slipping her violin case off the shelf.
“You look pretty enthusiastic today.” Andy held back a grin, turning back to her sarcastic friend, who stood by his wooden stool, fingering his glistening instrument.
“I’m not in the mood, Jon.” Andy retorted.
“Yeah, I could kind of tell that by the look of your ugly mug. Could even scare a Yeti…” the small boy crouched down to the tattered kneeholes of his ragged jeans, and towed up his oversized cello.
“You know orchestra is my least favorite class. Why even bother with the smart ass comments?” she said, raising her crumpled music.
“Because I will go at any point to get on your last nerve.” After tossing back strands of hair from his glazed expression, he plopped into his chair, plucking the strings.
“Whatever,” she wore a noble look, and marched to her seat.
A teacher treaded briskly through the doorway, with a stern face, a look of someone not to cross. As she slipped off her rather old-fashioned coat onto her tidy desk, the silence was broken with a harmony of tuning instruments and chatter.
“CLASS!” this caught every ear, and heads began to turn to the front. “Mica has stood up to the front. When she does this, you all stop playing, and wait until she begins to tune. I shouldn’t have to tell you this more than once.”
Reluctantly, the two stopped their side comments, as Mica gracefully ran her bow across her throbbing string, releasing a sensation of a well tuned “A” cord. The two poised their instruments under their chins, freeing the clutches on the end of their fingerboards, in order to reach the fine tuners. Andy had made no effort doing this, leaving her instrument still out of tune.
“Okay, thank you, Mica. You can sit down now.” She placed a notebook filled with music sheets, onto the composer’s stand and flipped to a certain page. “Now, we’re going to practice pick-ups to 43 on Brandenburg. I think it needs work through the middle part. And remember, don’t forget to play with tempo, seconds! I think you guys haven’t been practicing the 51 part.”
The seconds uneasily nodded their heads, along with the rest, while the first-chair second raised his violin, yelling angrily.
“French people,” Andy mumbled spitefully into Kelsey’s ear. Even with her whispering, Julien still heard.
“Hey! I heard that!” the boy to the front furiously raised his fist to both of the girls. He had an astonishingly strong French accent, though gentle tone.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah… sit your French ass down…”
“Uh! I’m going to kill you!” it was typical for Julien to terrorize people like this, for he played a game of “Gunman” with two other students, Ben and Daine, which included imaginary bombings, and screams of agony, while using their violin cases as semi-automatics. Julien twisted around, towards Ben (a first-violin), and flaunted his bow in his direction, generating a samurai sword.
“Boys, I think we all outgrew that game when we were in third grade--” the teacher broke in, motioning for Julien to sit down. The class burst into hysterics.
“Okay--back to class. From the top, everyone.”
“Which song?” one student said from her conversation with a nearby bass player.
The teacher grunted. “Is everyone in here retarded? I said Brandenburg Sinfonia!”
From the flourish of her hands, every glittering instrument was put into poise, and suddenly, she gave a signal of a two second-beat before they began, and the classroom broke into a harmony of music. Andy and Kelsey played well through the first portion, but near the middle where seconds should be heard throughout the whole orchestra, they bowed quietly, to not be heard playing.
When several other seconds had done the same, a sudden hush came over the entire ensemble, and the music was destroyed. The teacher, irritated, slapped her hands to her sides, and glanced over to Andy and Kelsey in disapproval.
“Now, Andy--how does it say to play one measure before 51?” she crossed her arms, tapping her foot impatiently.
Jon raised a trembling hand. “Please pick me! Pick me!” he waved his hand from side to side eagerly.
“Jon, shut your mouth. You don’t even have the same part as the seconds. Stop acting stupid.”
“Oh, Miss Smith, you give me more credit than I deserve!” Jon feigned a small blush. Some students chorused in a large “Oh, dang!” until Miss Smith glared at each of them.
“Jon, don’t flirt with the teacher, just be quiet for the rest of the class time. Save it for Valentine’s Day.” Andy grumbled.
“But Cupid has pierced me with his arrow of romance now! How am I to wait for my love?!”
“Jon, d’you want the entire classroom to have a detention?” Miss Smith said coldly.
“SHUT UP, JON!!!” the class yelled in unison, pelting him with rosin.
Andy stammered, flipping throughout her binder, searching for the answer on her music sheet. Just a pile of complicated notes, that’s what she thought. But, Kelsey was hissing the answer.
“You know…” Jon said. “Rosin doesn’t taste that bad…”
“Forte! Forte!” she was cupping a hand to her mouth, cautiously, as the teacher was flipping through her booklet, paying no attention to the partners.
“Um--well--it ’s forte.” Andy said restlessly, shrugging her shoulders.
“Yes,” she looked up from her leaflets. “And how are you s’posed to play when it’s at forte?”
“Loudly.”
“Uh-huh--does it change at all when you get to 51?”
Andy stifled a gulp. “No.”
“Well--then why do you all start playing quietly at that part?” she scanned all the seconds in great dislike. “I know it’s a hard part you guys, but we’ve been playing this song so far for--well, about a month! We’ve been through this--you should get it when you practice at home. Which, I somehow doubt you’ve been doing.”
Julien muffled a small scoff.
“Fine, everyone but Julien hasn’t been practicing--am I right?” she raised her hands in fury to several seconds who lifted their bows. “Okay, okay. Well, maybe you need to practice harder on it, and pay attention to this certain part. I’m sick of you guys coming here unprepared! What are you going to do when the winter concert comes up and you mess up in front of everybody?”
Andy held back a snort of amusement. “We can all let Julien play. I mean, he’s the only second who knows his part, isn’t he?” The classroom joined her laughter.
Jon shot out from his seat, angrily. “No! We all play! We’re a team! Don’t you try to change that, you--you, hippopotamus!” Everyone raised their brows and stopped in their laughter. “Okay, that was pushing it.” He resigned, and sat down.
“Andy, you make one more comment, and you’ll have your name on the board. You too, Jon.”
Andy just couldn’t hold back her cheek. “Well, since most of us are all having trouble with this part, we can just give a solo to Julien, and he’ll play fine. I don’t see why we can’t do that.” She sighed and laid back in her seat with sudden comfort.
Kelsey nudged her painfully in the ribs. “Cut it out! Do you want to get in trouble?”
“Kelsey, apart from you, I don’t really care if I ‘mar my permanent record.’”
“No, you all took this class for a reason. If you don’t want to lift a finger for this orchestra, then I guess you can all just quit.”
“I’m telling you Miss Smith, you give us that option, this orchestra won’t do any good with just Julien playing.”
“Hey! It’s not like Julien was the only one willingly taking this class!” Kelsey yelled indignantly.
Andy sighed, and ranted on, as if she was discussing the matter with an unwanted relative. “Why don’t we just sing Broadway, or something easy?”
Kelsey gazed back at her partner with a furious expression. Andy grinned, and began singing. “Suwannee, how I love you, how I love you, my dear, old Suwannee!”
Jon raised his hand. “Miss Smith? Miss Smith?”
“No, Jon, we will not discuss the matter during the class time to have my name change to Mrs. Richards anytime soon.” She groaned, arms akimbo.
Jon pouted humorously. “Aw! But it sounds so much better that way! But, no, I think Andy took a couple of drinks from her medicine cabinet today, so don’t mind her comments for the further time of the period.” He stood up, mockingly, and bowed, palms to his thighs. “Yes, my goddess?”
“That’s it! Do you all want to see Mr. Toby?”
“Uh--not really. Besides, I thought his name was Mr. Tubby.” Jon murmured.
“Jon! Just because there’s a Tubby’s subs restaurant close to here, and our principle is…by coincidence, a little…” she pondered for a moment, trying with great difficulty to be respectful. “Err--rotund--doesn’t give you the right to comment like that!” Kelsey growled through clenched teeth.
“I think Jon deserves to immediately be punished for those irrational comments. It was inappropriate for this classroom.” Andy laid back in her shaky chair, while her teacher grew more and more irritated.
“One more comment, and you will be having a parent teacher conference before you can flirt anymore with Jon. Understand, Andy? Don’t think this doesn’t count you too, Jon.” her face was beginning to grow into a crimson color.
“Yes, sir! It won’t happen again, sir!” she said ironically, saluting her teacher for every stiff ‘sir.’ The classroom broke into further giggles of amusement.
“Okay, now shut your mouth. You’re only wasting time from class.” Andy grunted indignantly.
“Orchestra sucks.” Andy sighed, raising her instrument to Miss Smith’s hands. She was ironically thinking of how pleasant it would be right now to teach Miss Smith the science of swirlies with Jon as an assistant.


After a reprimand from Miss Smith, and a token of gratitude by handing Andy a scribbled detention pass, she was sure she’d died and gone to heaven. Unless, if you count the fact that I’m being completely sarcastic.
Kelsey trudged beside Andy, carrying a stack of binders, off to her Language Arts class.
“Andy, why do you always have to talk back to the teachers? Whether you do well in their class or not, I’d expect you to use your humor for something else. You wouldn’t have to go to detention at lunch tomorrow if you kept your mouth shut.”
“And what makes you think that I actually care?” she shrugged her shoulders loftily. “Besides, I’m beating Gary. He’s only had three detentions this week.”
“Andy, don’t be a fruitcake. Are you just going to go on forever with this stupid getting-in-trouble thing? It’s just really dumb.”
Andy growled and thrusted out her hands. “Of course not! I’ll stop when I’m like… you know, forty-six… no job, bum on the street, living with Jon… if it’s my last resort… you know I don’t completely hate my life…”
“Andy, you know I’m being serious. Why don’t you just drop the act? Go let Jon and Gary do their own thing. You don’t have to follow them.”
“They’re my friends. What the hell do you expect from me?” she elbowed a few short students into open lockers.
She rolled her eyes. “I mean, we’re already in tenth grade… you need to get over this stage. What I’m trying to say is--forget trouble-maker! Make trouble-avoider!”
“That is the worst thing you’ve said yet. You’re so pathetic, it’s just hilarious.” Andy said coolly. Kelsey narrowed her eyes towards Andy’s face, fists clenched.
“Well, gotta go. Bye, Kelsey.” Kelsey refused to retaliate. She stalked away to the grubby Art room, and slammed the door behind her, accidentally catching a student’s hand, which they screamed in anguish.
“Oh, my God, Chris, I’m really sorry!” Kelsey jabbered in apology.
Andy let out a small laugh, and strode away to her English classroom in small dismay.
Several students were filing into the tight-packed classroom, and a horrendously tall boy approached her, running fingers through his white-blond hair. She walked towards him, wearing a blank expression. He had strands of wild hair shagging into his gleaming, emerald eyes, and he was a bit over six feet tall, built with a slim, gangly frame. He was always unusually attractive under the mass of flaxen curls. Of course, she wasn’t going to admit to it anytime soon.
“One thing, I just got a detention last hour, you owe me.”
“It’s not like you’ve won yet. I still have an entire hour to get a detention.” He slouched back, arms crossed pompously.
“Me too,” she retorted.
“Let’s see what you got.”
“Maybe you will.”
The two both gave each other one final glare and jerked back to their desks. Deviously, Andy headed for a seat beside one of her other friends, instead of her assigned desk. Gary gave her a broad smirk, and he left to his own seat, other tactics racing through his mind.
The two usually competed daily, and provoking the teachers was one of the simplest strategies. Andy thrived off it, while Gary moved onto other things, still managing to beat her. They were close friends; they just had a peculiar relationship. It wasn’t as if they were complete rivals.
“Okay, class. Class! Class!” the teacher had an obnoxious chime to her voice when she yelled, but it wasn’t old Mrs. Greenstone anymore. She had been a bit squat, her height exaggerated with hair jutting from her head like an obsolete 70’s afro. Students muffled their laughter, struggling to keep from commenting. This was too easy. Substitutes were Andy’s specialty. “You are being very disrespectful to me, and I could tell your teacher anytime that you’re misbehaving like this!” she screeched on, tossing back her tresses.
Gary was first to irritate her. He raised a long freckled arm, faking a sincere attitude. Once he’d been picked on, he talked to his own interest. “While you’re busy telling us how disrespectful we are, what’s your name so we can address you in retaliation after you’ve said this?”
She frowned back at him, clutching her attendance booklet. “What’s your name? I’m going to write you on the board!” she thrusted a piece of chalk towards him in rage.
“Um--” he bit his lip in thought. “Pamela Anderson.” The entire class burst into hysterics, along with Andy who couldn’t help but laugh.
“Gary! I never knew!” one student snorted.
Gary grinned and leaned back in his seat, while the class continued howling with laughter. “Well, now that it’s out in the open… you might as well put my name on the board and send me out in the hallway… a detention would be good…”
“Don’t joke with me!” the substitute actually scrawled the name onto the board. After dusting off chalk from her hands, she pointed a firm finger towards his desk.
“If I hear another thing, you’ll have a check next to it, and I’ll not only be telling your teacher--but I’ll also tell him to schedule a little parent, teacher conference together.”
“He’s a woman. But, I’m sure you had a bit of trouble telling it. She doesn’t really look it--know what I mean?” Andy chortled in, the substitute jerking her head back to Andy, hair swaying along with it.
“And what’s your name? I’m sure we could schedule a nice conference for you too.”
Andy shook her head gravely. “Actually, I have no name that would seem quite civil to you. I was raised by a pack of wolves, and further to that, I usually have slight troubles bringing my parents to school, avoiding for them to either tear the teacher’s clothing to bits--which last time, my teacher ran out of the room, screaming with a school flag wrapped around her bare body--” Andy cringed slightly. “Which was not really a pretty sight--and also, they leave bite marks on the chairs, never take showers, and like to piss on the carpet.” Gary turned his head back to her, and gave her a hidden thumbs up. The class continued rolling along their seats in hysterics.
“Well, you can bring this slip home to your--wolves,” she somewhat retreated from Andy. “and I’m sure they’ll be happy to stop by sometime--soon.” Her lip quivered.
“Actually, they only come to conferences for the cafeteria food. Last time they were serving fish--or was it squirrel? Well, either way, my dad got food poisoning from it--kinda ate my mom, it was pretty tragic--” Andy began grimacing frenziedly.
“Okay! Enough! No more stories.” She clomped back to her desk, and gazed out to the class. “Well, class, you’re lucky to use this hour for free time--and I don’t mean just goofing around--I mean using this hour for doing homework or something school-related.” All the students chorused in a groan, but several hands shot into the air, to go to their lockers to pick up books. The teacher uneasily gave a pass to each of them, pairing them off for each minute to leave to the hallways. Obviously, the students had other things in mind to do.
Andy moaned as she pulled out a creased copy of The Call of the Wild, pretending to read it with interest. Why the hell did she even own this book? Somehow, a wild dog didn’t really spark her attention. Maybe an abandoned child, who’d run the forests, hopping from tree top to tree top in a giant diaper would… but, that was too much to ask for these days. While she imagined rather more interesting endings to the story, several thoughts raced through her mind, and she couldn’t help but feel guilty for her sarcastic behavior. A vivid picture projected in her mind of herself dressed in a Subway uniform, taking a child’s order at the cashier, wearing a harassed expression. Maybe she’d be serving Mr. Tubby at Tubby’s subs. She shuddered at the thought.
“Gary!” Andy hissed, which took a few tries before he wearily yanked around and bent over.
“What is it, Andy?” he whispered.
She stared back at him, and thrusted down her book. “Don’t you think we need to stop messing around all the time? We could be good students--why do we have to be like this?”
“Because--” he looked back to the substitute, cautiously, who was reading a wrinkled newspaper, and he turned back. “We have a damn substitute teacher that has a giant afro! Are you a complete jackass?”
“Look, if we keep on going like this, we’ll end up being drunks on the highway, and you know it.” she eyed him angrily.
“And how do you know that? Look, it’s just some harmless fun. Forget it. You don’t have to take it seriously.”
“It’s just that Kelsey--” Andy began onto explaining as she ducked under her desk, avoiding the teacher’s stare.
“Andy! I told you to ignore her. She’s just paranoid. Hell, if she went to a shrink about it, her psychiatrist would quit the next day and get a job as a black jack dealer in Vegas, screaming ‘call the men in the white coats! I like padded walls!’”
“Gary, she has a point. Where is this going to take us? If we go to school, we might as well do good in it. Besides, she’s your friend too.”
“I know, but I can’t see why sometimes.” He fixed his gaze on several kindergarteners gleefully climbing onto a firemen’s pole onto the play structure. Andy couldn’t help but think that Gary had an uncanny resemblance to those young, stupid children. “If she really were our friend, she would help us. Not tell us some other retarded thing to do, just because she wants it.”
“She’s just trying to help you.” She placed a gentle hand on Gary’s arm, and suddenly jerked it away in disgust. With a look of revulsion to each other and one final “Ugh!” they turned away.


Andy whistled a song she’d heard somewhere (couldn’t even think of where she heard it or who made it), while she slung her backpack around her shoulder. Although it wasn’t usually the music she preferred, she seemed to take pleasure in the melody. Kelsey was passing by, indignantly, with her bitter expression after the argument, and her eyes widened at the music.
“Hey, I never knew you liked him.”
“Who? Please don’t tell me you’re talking ‘bout Gary, because I can explain--”
“No! Don’t be stupid. You’re singing Mozart.”
“What--Kmart?”
“Attention all shoppers, if you knew anything about history, maybe you’d actually be doing well in American History class. That is all.” Kelsey said mockingly, talking through an imaginary speaker. But, sighting the puzzled look on Andy’s face, she threw out her hands irritably.
“Hello? Does the world-famous composer ring a bell? The one who looked like George Washington--well, um, kind of.”
“George who?” Andy asked, wearing a bewildered expression.
“I always wondered what you were doing when we were studying the making of our country in Social Studies. Now, I just know you weren’t paying attention.”
“Cool it, I was only joking.” She shrugged her shoulders, laughing. “Of course I know who good ole’ George is. Just--was he the one who planted the cherry tree?”
Kelsey shook her head, and watched Andy turn sharply on her heel, continuing to murmur the song. “Good ole’ Andy,” she always had to act dumb in public.
She saw Andy scurry ahead, twirling in the center of the jostling hallway, arms plunged out to the air, squealing out a song from The Sound of Music. She marched along down to the double doors, shoving students aside. What will Andy do in high school? She won’t get off easy, thought Kelsey, hands raised to her face in shame.
“Oh, the hills are alive with the sound of music!”
“Andy, I’ll see you tomorrow.” The principle solemnly passed her in disgrace. Andy wrinkled her nose in hatred.
“But, sir! I was merely expressing my range of creativity to my fellow colleagues! How can you punish me for such a thing?” he frowned in return and her lips tightened. Sadly watching the principal trudge away to his office, she headed for the door, muttering a few colorful words under her breath. But, as she paced outside, to the lustrous sunshine, she threw out her arms and chanted the song again.
Kelsey gazed at her friend’s back with a small grin. “She should never, ever try out for choir.”
“Yeah, I guess I am. I guess I am singing--err--Kmart.” Her eyes crumpled with slight confusion. Whoever Kmart--Mozart was, Andy knew she’d heard the name somewhere. And she treaded away to her bus with the noble stride she’d shown Jon in orchestra.
She didn’t exactly understand why the name brought delight to her, but the peal to the end--“Mozart”--it was appealing to the typical ear. It had a keen sense to it, which made you know something special was meant behind it.


“Andy? Did you do your homework yet?” her mother approached her daughter sternly, as Andy rummaged through the pantry.
“Mom, don’t worry about it. I’ll do it later.” She said, thrusting out a full container of peanuts towards her. Her mother released an indignant huff.
“Yeah, and isn’t that what you say everyday, and I get a nasty shock when I see this on your progress report?” she jerked a finger to the red scribbled “D+” across her Social Studies grade. Andy darted for the sheet, but it was snatched away as she read on further in anger. “Is inattentive during class?”
“Well--so? So, I’m lazy and I don’t do the work and I don’t pay attention during class.” She shot her mother an innocent expression.
“Andy, don’t you care? It seems like you don’t even want to pass to go into high school. I think it’s that crowd you always go with--Jon and Gary and the rest of them--they don’t set a great example for you--”
“Mom! I hang around with who I want to, and no one tells me I shouldn’t! Why the hell does everybody always say that they’re bad friends? We just like to have fun! What’s so wrong about that?” she released the grasp on the can angrily, dropping it on the kitchen counter. Her mother gazed back to Andy, miserably, wrapping tender arms around her.
“Baby, I just want you to do good. With them, it affects you. You need to focus now, so you can do well for the rest of your life from now on.” She stroked a hand along her hair, and cropped it to one side along her shoulder.
“Mom! I’m fourteen, I can take care of myself!”
“You don’t really seem to show that with this progress report, huh?!”
Andy ran fingers along her forehead, pulling strands from her twitching brow. She plunked down into a chair, and rest her elbows to her knees, with her chin to her palms. She was sick to death of this. It wasn’t as if it was any diverse from last progress report. Laying back into her seat, she found that Kelsey had been accurate in what she’d said, although the girl was right in everything. But, Andy knew she couldn’t make herself mature, let alone do it and let down her peers. They always did expect a good laugh before class.
Slowly, she slipped the bag out from behind the table where she usually left it there when returning from school. Hastily zipping open the top, she rummaged through the cluttered binders, searching a trace of her Orchestra binder. For some odd reason, she felt that she wanted to flip through the music. But, as she groped, a jeweled talisman came clunking out from her bag.
“What the hell--?” she reached out to the trinket tumbling along the tiled floor. Raising it to her eyes, for a closer look, she thrusted the ornament down on the table. “Some idiot must’ve put it there. Whatever--” Andy unhappily stared down, fixated in her music sheets. “You know, it would be pretty damn cool to be known to play this music without messing up for once.” She flipped through the pages. “Maybe even be like that Mozart guy. I mean, it would be--oh, never mind. I’m just acting stupid--”
She slumped back into the chair again, just dully examining the kitchen with sudden interest. But, the charm on the table suddenly began throbbing and thrashing along the counter. Clattering suddenly filled the room, and the bounds of the amulet grew higher and higher as it shook.
“Am I delusional? Or is it really bouncing?” she shook her head in disbelief. “God, I need to get out more--”
But, the talisman began weaving it’s way up into the air, impatiently, and Andy swung at it. Catching it with slight difficulty, she clasped it into her palm, and cupped both hands around it, as if concealing an insect. A glow began building in her wrapped fingers, and the encrusted gemstones began growing lustrous.
Gradually, the illumination began searing her fingers, and the trinket continued to hop about her palms. As she warily opened her hands, the ornament abruptly yield in its dance, and lay in her hands, trembling tremendously. Five colored stones that had been cut through the center began releasing an obscuring shine, and she felt herself being sucked into the radiance, bit-by-bit, struggling back with all her strength.
“Why am I--?” but Andy didn’t finish. Before she could force against the light any more, she plunged into the charm.
Her eyes jammed open to the commotion; she jerked back her head to her entrance, seeing the talisman as some kind of portal. She cautiously eyed the dimension, only seeing a blinding light, but felt herself surge along the ground, sputtered out from the air. The ground was solid and scraped her skin as she slid along the floor.
Timidly, she leaned back on her palms, cocking her head in confusion. Faraway, she saw another image come into view. Through the haze of the light, she saw another figure topple into the scene. It was a young, small boy, dressed in the similar clothing she’d seen in her Social Studies textbook, during the 1700’s.
As the boy promptly got to his feet, dusting himself off of soot and straightening his powdered wig, Andy did the same. She approached the boy, but knocking into thin air, she saw that a hidden barrier seemed to guard the two dimensions. Her throat tightened.
The small boy barely reached to her chin, and he appeared just as puzzled as her. But, quickly, a gush of force smacked her back, and she felt as if she was flung through the hurdle in front of her. She gazed back, seeing that she was darting forward, but her body was left behind.
The boy had seemed to do the same, and he had slipped into her own body, while she skimmed into his. Seeing that her view had grown utterly tiny, she felt a throb of pain from her chest, and saw that another wispy, pearly mist had protruded from her old body, and they both swapped these curious objects.
With a small squeal of fright, before she could even catch another glimpse of the boy, she had been tossed into a new home. Fallen on her bottom, she felt a bit battered, but she strained her legs to stand up.
She tottered onto her feet, somewhat dizzy, and she scanned the room. It had a welcoming sensation with several flickering candles, and two enormous pianos propped in the room. It seemed very old, having close Victorian-style carving on the walls. The room was bathed with light, while the pastel curtains were drawn, over a snowy scenery. A small table was set in the middle of the room, scattered with neat chairs around it, and a stack of cards were cluttered around the table.
“Mom--? Where am I--?” she walked along the floor, noticing that the wood was much weaker, and it made a sharp creaking noise. Stopping in her tracks, she heard swift footsteps and a sudden knock at the door.
Warily, she turned to see if any others were answering, and approving, she slowly approached the door. She frantically unlocked the door, and slid it open with slight difficulty.
A middle-aged man strode through the door, dressed in a powdered wig, both curled at the sides, tied up with a delicate black ribbon, with a colonial hat on top, wearing a crimson and golden coat, with several decorations strapping it. He promptly grinned towards her, and bowed his head. She felt an urge to bow back, and did so, reluctantly.
He cheerfully handed her his music and case, which she stumbled under the weight of, and he turned back to her as he slid off his coat.
“So, how is my son doing today?” he tipped his hat to the table. “Did you neglect your studies, Wolferl?” still holding the violin case and sheets, by instinct, she shook her head, completely confused. “Wolferl, my boy, there is no need to be fearful! I know you’re very responsible and it won’t happen again.” He bent down and kissed her cheek with a chuckle. As he turned around, she angrily wiped it off.
“I hate kisses.” She muttered, heaving the case to a closed room, noticing she had a somewhat remembrance of the home.
“Nannerl! Anna Maria! I’ve come home!” she heard the man call.
After dropping the items into the room, she carefully looked around. A delicate wallpaper covered it, the ceiling topped off by an elegant chandelier, set up with a few gleaming candles.
“I have no idea where I am, but I feel at home. Is that normal?” it seemed difficult for Andy to strain her memory to remind herself what her previous world had felt like. She’d forgotten. Suddenly, she eyed the room, hearing wonderful sounds from the music room. He heard him babble to a young girl, by the sounds of their voices, explaining to her something from her playing. By swirling thoughts in her minds, things she’d never known before, it sounded like her older sister. Did she have an older sister?
“How would this happen?” she began recklessly searching the room. “I want to go home! Please--what the hell is going on?” she flopped into a chair, holding back her cries. Her memory had gone racing from her mind entirely. She had come to the point where she couldn’t remember her old name. “I know I shouldn’t be here--why is this happening? No--you’re just having a nightmare. Yep, it’s no big deal. Slap yourself awake--” she began to whack her head furiously, smacking them with all her might, not minding whether it hurt anymore.
Feverishly, she hopped out from her chair, and sighted the same boy she’d seen before in the transformation, which only came as a blur to her weakening remembrance. The boy’s fair lashes, hazel, glistening eyes, and sharp chin. As she scratched her head in bewilderment, and noticed the image did the same. Quickly noticing it was her own reflection, she scurried to the decorated mirror, and stroked her hands along her rosy cheeks frantically.
“Oh, my God--I’m--I’m, a freak! What the hell is going on?” Andy wrenched off her hairpiece, running hands through wild, golden hair. Tossing back her locks, she narrowed her eyes, fixing them on her reflection; her expression knotted into dread, and broke into tears. “I WANT MY MOM! HOLY SHIT! WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME?!”
While the man had heard her cries, playing at the harpsichord with his daughter, he stopped, his wife, fidgeting in a chair in the corner of the room, knitting frantically, had laid down her sock, gazing to her husband.
“Hormones,” he muttered, returning back to Nannerl, and his daughter pitched back hair from her ears, apparently listening to Andy with small amusement.

The boy swung onto his feet, quivering at the new setting. Suspiciously, he stared back to where he’d entered from, only seeing the small trinket clattering onto the table.
“Okay--” he suddenly grinned. “Well, at least I’m taller--” he heaved in a large breath of fresh air. But, through the sight of silky hair falling to his shoulders, he yelped in disgust. “I’m a girl? Disgusting! I don’t even understand what is going on around this damn place--” but, the same as Andy, he couldn’t seem to recall his old name or his old home. As he scanned the room, cautiously, hands promptly behind him, as he would walk back home, he politely examined several kitchen appliances with interest.
He suddenly saw that Andy’s violin case had been beside her backpack. Andy never remembered a time where she’d actually taken her instrument home to practice for class, and this time wasn’t any exception.
The boy heaved up the case from under the counter, and laid it along his knees. Her mother had drawn the curtains slightly from the sink window, but as he buckled open the case, he drew up the instrument, and it glistened in the light. A year of keeping the violin, and it’d been through some damage, a few scratches here and there, but under the sunlight, it looked good as new.
Cheerfully and warily stroking the golden hair with the block of rosin, treating it as if it were a delicate porcelain doll, he took a rag from a drawer, and began polishing the wood of blemishes. As he held up the fiddle to the enchanting sunbeam, for the first time, the instrument looked beautiful.
It was in a sense that the instrument had been something not taken for granted, not just the usual grunting and reluctantly taking the object into your hands, singing with no liveliness, but cradling it into your arms and feeling blessed to have the talent to know of it.
Not just play every note flawlessly, but to play with feeling. Close your eyes, wave to the rhythm as you run the bow along the strings, and flutter along a tapestry of harmony. Hear the hymn glide through the strut of wood, and release a sound beyond reason; a sound beyond sense. He broke into a smile. Andy would be sickened.
He felt a sudden unmanageable urge to play the instrument. Unhurriedly, he hoisted the wood to his chin, and he felt a new grace with it. Easily, he could hold the object by means with no chin rest strapped to it, which Andy’d been struggling to do even with it. Slipping his hand from the scroll, he reached to the floor for Andy’s bow.
The bow now polished and luminous, he clasped it in the position that it was meant to be used in, which it usually irritated and wounded Andy’s hand in class. But, the arrangement felt comfortable for the boy.
He quickly glowered over the violin, her mind racing with jingles Andy’d never knew could possibly thud so vividly in one’s head ever before. Hundreds of notes, strung together, scattered apart, swiftly tore through his mind, rhythm and numbers a fascinating craving for his new-fangled wit. His hand trembled with such immense power, and he suddenly ran the bow along the string.
His fingers danced along the cords as if they themselves had wings, a beautiful melody Andy’d never dreamed of ever playing. He had a sudden composition skill that was astonishing coming from Andy, who never appreciated music, and he trounced along the cords, one by one, improvising on an original chorus.
Her mother dumbfounded by the prospect of music, came dashing into the kitchen, and was blown away to see it was her own daughter running hands along the fingerboard, each note tuned perfectly, each vibrato and forte heavenly, and felt such an irresistible yearn for the chorus to chant again. When he had finally finished with the song, he smiled awkwardly, accepting the shock on her mother’s expression.
“Was that good enough?” Andy muttered, lowering her bow, a quiver in her voice.
Her mother was astounded to even hear that question to being asked after such playing. “Honey! Andy! That was wonderful!” she threw her arms merrily around her daughter. “Is that something you learned in class? It seems really hard for only fifth grade--” he shook his head.
“No, it’s something I just made up.” he heard Andy’s mother pace away, and gulp.
“Not--not just now? Andy, I know you got bad grades, but you don’t have to try to impress me--”
“Mom, I’m not lying. I just made it up.” he began to slip the instrument back into its case, not at all impressed with his own hasty talent. “Oh, that reminds me. I have to write it down before I forget.” he left the room as if his love for violin was typical. He left as if his improvisation was nonetheless but still needed of practice. Andy’s mother gasped with alarm and slipped out a pot from the cabinet. She would as well start with dinner. But, she gave herself a small knock on the head to check if she was just hallucinating and began tinkering with the ingredients.


“--We’ll do it in--err--key of G major. Yes, that’ll have to do.” The boy went on to scribbling on his paper, constantly whimpering at the sopping pen. “Ah! Thickheaded pen.” He cringed at his words, and went onto jotting. “Time, Andy? Make it--um, common time? Uh-huh--that’ll work well.” He alleged, slightly reluctant of his notion.
The phone abruptly broke into its usual irritating ring, but he felt puzzled to its song. “Honey! Could you pick that up?!” as he heard her mother calling, he angrily muttered under his breath “Damn,” and threw down the ballpoint to the table. He darted out from the room, and followed its sound, sighting the buzzing receiver. Perplexed at what the object was, he pressed his temple against the speaker, recoiling in alarm, and he slowly took the phone and brought it to his ear. Come what may, as he clasped the handle, he felt a bit familiar with the telephone.
“H--hello, whom am I speaking to?” Andy huffed, in a wry tone.
“Err--Kelsey.” She stuttered, in a vague tone. “May I speak to Andy?” Seeing that someone had responded, and the voice cleared through, he retorted steadily.
“This is Andy. Yes?” it felt awkward for him to say so, though he knew it had been true.
“Don’t try to be smart with me, Andy. It’s not funny.”
“I’m not attempting to act funny for your information--Kelsey, was it--? Well to the point, brainless child--anyhow, what do you need?”
“Clever, love the new act. Anyway--just was wondering if you wanted to hang out today.”
“Young girl! Explain your wretched language. I don’t understand what you’re implying--”
“Duh. You know, meeting together and doing something fun? Does that sound familiar? It’s what you live for.”
“I’m afraid not today for the time being. I’m actually quite busy with a new piece. You can try me later when I’m done. Good day, madam!” he dawdled the receiver back to its rightful place, while Kelsey frantically yelled.
“But, Andy--what piece? Andy--” he ignored the faltering voice, and hung up angrily, snapping his hand away from it as if it had been bewitched.
“These damned people calling me and wasting my time! Now I can barely remember what I had in thought.” he dashed back to her bedroom, and drew the fountain pen down to the paper. His mind completely cleared of music; he scanned the room in confusion, not quite familiar with the vision, and gawked down to the paper.
It had been lined notebook paper torn out scrappily from her Science journal, and he hadn’t recognized the type lain before him. “What is this? This paper isn’t good for writing at all. Why had I even started with this?” turning over the leaflet, he saw that the thick ink had seeped through the thin paper. “Ugh! Isn’t there anything else I could use?” he rummaged throughout her untidy closet, clothes hurdling out from behind him.
Sighting a heap of plain jeans and several crumpled tees, he stretched one out towards the windows, examining it in uncertainty. “I don’t own anything like this! What is this rubbish?” he pitched the flushed top to the floor, and handled the pants, surprisingly unknown of the material. “Why would I own something like this? Where are my other clothes?” he flung himself to the floor, violently punching the ground, muttering a bit of foul language. He shook himself from the trauma, and raised himself from the carpeted wood.
“Control yourself. You’re better than this.” He promptly wiped off Andy’s shirt, and suddenly noticed he was clothed in the same as what had been in the closet. Snorting in rage, he suddenly ignored the change. “Never mind. For now, just find the good paper for the music. Yes, yes--”
“Andy! Dinner’s ready!” he grumbled at the shout.
“Yes, mother!” he snapped, dropping a stack of printing slips.
Rather disgruntled, he left the room, and tagged along to the drifting scents that came from the kitchen. Andy’s mother stood, facing towards the stove, cheerfully stirring from a bowl. Slipping on a pair of flowered oven mitts, she lifted the pot from the sweltering stovetop, jerking her head towards him in impatience.
“Go set the table.” he merely nodded, feeling slightly offended she hadn’t even called “please,” but reluctantly picked out the dishes, astonished at how they were real china, and weren’t silver or the plain metal. “Your father’s going to be home late. He called me before you got home from school. He has a late meeting to go to.” The boy gaped back towards her mother, baffled more than ever.
“But, Momma, I’m home schooled. And--a meeting? But, he’s a--” he carelessly dropped a plate, aiming poorly for the supper table, and it cuffed the floor, shattering into bits. Devastated at his neglect, breaking a single plate, he broke into quick apologies and bent down to gather the broken porcelain.
“Quit it with the playing act. It’s not funny anymore.” She barked, completely overlooking the dropped dish, obviously prone to hearing dropped dishes by her daughter. “And, don’t pick that up. You’ll cut yourself. I’ll clean it.”
“Yes, but again, I apologize for the break. And--I don’t think it’s quite fair for you to clean up the plate--when I was the fool who broke it. Allow me--” he graciously snatched the broom from Andy’s mother, and began sweeping the bits into a pan. Andy’s mother stood over her, impressed with the polite behavior, but shuddered out from her fantasy, and thought about the past bribes and fooling around she’d seen her daughter do before.
Popping into a drawn chair, she arranged the stack of silverware. “What do you want, Andy?” he gazed back up to her mother’s glinting, emerald eyes, and felt pained that anyone would assume he would do something kind for someone else, only with the thought of something in return.
“Mama, I’m doing it because I was the one who dropped it, and I should clean it all up. How could you say such a thing?” her mother simply tossed back her short-length hair angrily.
“Andy--just eat dinner. And stop talking like that. I don’t want anymore arguments.” He huffily swept up all the glass, and dumped it into the trashcan.
“Actually, to tell you the truth, I’m not really all that hungry. I’ll go on with my studies. Good day to you.” He pecked her on the cheek and left he kitchen.
“I always knew Andy would turn out to be a messed up kid. I wouldn’t be surprised if she got dropped on the head when she was younger.” And she slowly ate from her dish in awe.


The young boy had stridden into Andy’s room, preparing for bed, but passed a small dresser, which held a mirror over it. As he passed it, he saw the mirror image of Andy, and inched into his manifestation. He caressed his face, in hatred and slumped onto Andy’s bed.
“Of all people--why a girl?” he flicked the talisman over and over on its side, examining it carefully in the flowing lamplight. “Why would something like this happen? I don’t understand--” he drew up his music below it. “I can’t see why I would transform into this girl--in such a wretched world--” he whispered, his tone shaky as he stroked the trinket with care.
“What is God up to--? Hell, I don’t even know who I was--” he glared back at the ornament, his knees quivering. “Father always told me--oh, I can’t remember. I just remember a man--with--with, white hair. White hair? I don’t see how the hell that helps me.” He swung his legs onto the bed, while groping the charm. “All I remember is--lusting to have my talent known to--” he clapped a hand onto his twitching forehead in frustration. “To--to those who didn’t know! Yes--! Yes…” suddenly his face scrambled into confusion.
“But what talent? What talent--?” he scanned his eyes over the room, suddenly sighting the crumpled music on the nightstand. He wrung it into his hands, reading the tangle of notes as if he’d never seen it before. “This is it--this is my destination home--but, what home? How will I get to my damn life again! Oh, God, why of all times--now--why?” his fingers twisted into fists, and the music rutted under his grip.
“But, this girl. I must find out why of all people--would God give me this--” he released his clutch on the music, and gritted his teeth, while running his hands through her lustrous, shoulder-length hair, his mind racing. “Why--?”
“ANDY! GO TAKE YOUR SHOWER!” at the sound of Andy’s mother, it had been as if his thoughts had completely diminished from his head, a curse that had completely wiped the answers to the crude and crafty predicament he was in now.
He stood up, slightly puzzled, and marched along to the bathroom. As the door swung open, he noticed there was sparkling plumbing. Lustrous, white tiles, glistening in the moonlight, squashy towels hung up from glittering, silver railing. By his scarce memory, he recalled this being much better than his other bathroom.
Merrily, he pressed the pink towels along his cheeks, grinning at their cuddly feeling, and turned the faucet with a small creak, and warm, crisp water began twisting through the spout, gleefully slapping the bathtub bottom.
“I could get used to this.” He murmured, and took a deep gulp of air, draping his hands to his eyes as he stripped. “Here goes nothing.” He quickly thrusted out a leg and plunged into the bathtub, still covering his closed eyes. He slipped his hands off his eyes slowly, tempted to inspect, but cursed under his breath. “God, help me--please, do not allow me to open my eyes--do not leave me, God--because you know what’ll happen if you do that--” he stammered, in a singsong voice, swaying along in the sweltering water.
A jerk from his conscience allowed him to catch a tiny peer, but he continued on in his bathing, blinded and stumbling for his groping for the shampoo. “Shit!” the boy had cried after accidentally slipping along the soap, which was buried to the bottom, which left him in a crumpled heap in the water, nearly knocked out by the protruding faucet.
Crossly rubbing his head, he gave up on washing, and left the bathroom angrily with towels wrapped around his waist and in Andy’s hair. Muttering several colorful words in a vague tone, he changed in Andy’s room, and slept in her bed, preparing for an exhilarating next day. The thought of chaos completely left the boy’s mind as he soundly dozed.


“The key to playing is tempo, Wolfgang. Do not forget your dynamics as well, my son. I know you’ll make me proud either way.” Andy gazed back to Wolfgang’s father, puzzled.
They were both alongside sitting at the harpsichord, and he’d just laid a piece of new written music on the stand by the keys. She scratched her head in confusion, seeing the music was much too difficult, and she eagerly pressed down a cord of keys. Andy wasn’t commonly allowed to play the piano in the orchestra room. But, the metallic box released a different, sweet tone. Not like the old piano in their orchestra room.
Her father eyed Andy suspiciously, and cocked his head to one side. But, he suddenly broke into a small grin and began nodding. Easily, Andy could see that he was expecting Andy to suddenly compose a whole new piece. Though she could recall all the thoughts and memories of Mozart, she felt deserted by her lost musical talent. What could she do?
Suddenly, she smirked mischievously. Her lost thought from the old Andy wasn’t entirely gone. She recalled before learning how to play Ode to Joy on the piano, thought poorly, it’d have to do.
Carelessly, she started off with the tan keys completely distorting the tune, seldom ever playing a measure without stumbling, and she pounced on the last key proudly.
Suddenly, noticing that she’d played the wrong note, she quickly corrected herself by hastily pushing the key and turning back with a beam to her father. Her father appeared disappointed and appalled both at once. He fixated wide eyes in her direction, and swiftly snatched the music.
“Wolferl, I think we should try another time. Obviously, it doesn’t quite seem you’re with the lesson today. Besides, it gives you time to work on that--ah--charming little song. Maybe tomorrow will work?” Andy merely nodded, hands writhing in the fanciful, fringed tailcoat. She felt terrible. Usually, it wasn’t common for her to feel such strong guilt. It overwhelmed her when she trailed back to her bedroom.
“Why am I here? I know I’m not s’posed to be here--that’s all I can remember--” Andy sighed, collapsing onto her tiny bed.
“You merely exist here to be a pain in my ass, Wolfgang--that’s what you’re here for--found your place now?” a somewhat familiar girl had been lain on her own bed, buried in a thick book which she quickly snapped shut at Andy’s arrival. Andy felt an urge to retaliate, which she quickly accepted.
“No one asked you to be a smart ass.” Nannerl began chuckling.
“Well, at least I’m not an ass.” She clapped a hand to her pinched mouth. “I heard you back there. I never heard anything worse from you. Other than the time you interrupted my studies when you were two and played--but that’s different.”
Andy glowered back to her.
“Well, maybe I don’t like music anymore.” Nannerl gasped in horror. Quickly, she hopped onto her feet and sprinted towards her over the bed.
“Don’t--like--music? You’re lying!” she folded hands to her collar and gazed up to the ceiling, eyes gleaming. “Wolfgang! When you were only a tiny boy you said you’d never tire of music--you loved music.” She crossed arms over her chest.
“Well, I guess I have. You know, it’s not like music is exciting forever.”
“It was to you!”
“Not anymore. Now, leave me alone. I’m in a living hell.”
“I was merely trying to help. I know you really like music, you just hate father’s expectations.”
“Why don’t you run off your mouth to someone who cares?” she grunted.
“Well, you know, Wolferl. You can always come to me if you need it.”
“You’re the last person I’d go to.” Andy crossly rested her chin onto her knees.
“Well, you can come to me when you’re desperate. How about that?” she smiled towards Andy warmly and rested a hand on her shoulder. Andy shook it off angrily.
“Whatever,”
Nannerl left the room, with one final grin, and she closed the door gently behind her. Andy couldn’t find the words. She felt amazed that Nannerl would make such an offer. Nannerl was usually a bitch by this boy’s memory. Oh, well, it was charity that Andy would never accept whether she was Andy or this Wolfgang.


“Andy, please come up to the board and finish the problem.” He looked up to the chalkboard attentively, thrilled at this whole new environment. The teacher gazed back to her impatiently, pointing to the chalk in her hand.
“Oh, school is so exciting--err--Kelsey! There are so many things to see here!” she slipped out from her seat and cheerfully strolled along the row of desks, bowing to the teacher, and politely taking the chalk from her.
“Please explain it for us, Andy.” She grumbled, eager to see at how the usual Andy would be clueless at what to do. But, this boy had been someone who’d been previously fascinated with numbers. Merrily, he easily explained the fractions and equations, scribbling along the surface, finally clapping his hands off of powder.
“And there it is. Okay, thank you--” he softly bowed to the teacher, and head back for his seat.
Kelsey fixed her eyes towards Andy in astonishment. Of all people, Andy would not be the one to silently go to the board and solve a Math problem--correctly.
“Kelsey--I have to say, I’ve given you folk little credit for this amazing place you have. It’s wonderful!” he hissed back to her, hand cupped over his cheek. Kelsey preferred not to retort. Andy was actually doing something right for once… why would she go and break that?
Abruptly, as the teacher had gotten caught in the moment of the success at one of her worst students, and had blissfully explained the problem, the bell roared over the soft babble. The boy jumped at its ringing, slightly alarmed at the sound. Kelsey rose from her seat, and began lifting her stack of binders.
“C’mon, Andy. We have to go.” Andy obediently imitated Kelsey and began trailing out from the deserted classroom with her.
“Of course. We need to go to our lessons promptly! Oh, I’m just so excited at the thought of having even more classes! First Science, then Arithmetic? Oh, it’s too much for one day.” he nodded his head in ecstasy, but he gazed back to Kelsey hesitantly. He knew he’d have to tell her. Uncertainly, his expression stiffened.
“Kelsey, I have to tell you something--it’s important.”
“Well, I’m right here. You can tell me anytime now.”
“Well--I’m--I’m,”
“Tell me later. I need to buy lunch.” She said without delay, laying her books onto the cafeteria table.
Andy slipped into a chair; seeing that the entire table was deserted, and other tables were beginning to fill with hungry students. Slowly, her table began to spill with welcoming faces. They seemed somewhat familiar.
“Hey, Andy. Why the weird face? That was sweet yesterday! Seriously--” they gave her a quick pat on the shoulder and headed for the lunch line, which a cafeteria woman, looking slightly harassed, stood at the door, with a disgruntled expression, holding back scrambling elementary students.
“Andy, hello? Earth to Andy…” Gary plopped into a seat beside her and rummaged into his crumpled paper bag lunch.
“Oh, hey.” The words came tumbling out from his mouth.
“You’re acting especially retarded today. I can’t see how that’s possible, but I see you’ve broken the tie…” Gary smirked back at him, expecting a hard smack on the back of the head, but it never came even as he cowered down under the greasy table.
“I may seem retarded to you, which can’t be discovered unless one gets to know the other, but I certainly have a much more pleasant outer shell that would attract others to come my direction either way. Don’t you think?” she grinned, and examined her nails triumphantly. “With that haircut, I’m sure others would consider you retarded anyway to actually allow your mother to tell you to do so.” Gary’s sneer flickered.
“You are too good.” He shook his head in wonder, while biting into an apple angrily.
Kelsey came back scampering with the plastic tray in her hands. She slammed it onto the table carelessly, and swung a leg into her chair. Merrily, she opened up a textbook and began running her pencil down a map as she sipped her chocolate milk.
“Kelsey, if you actually have your homework done, don’t you think you shouldn’t bother to do it again?” Jon took a seat beside Gary and gazed at her impatiently.
“Jon, for your information--I’m studying for the geography test last class. I want it fresh in my mind when we get the test.”
“Oh, God. That’s today?”
Kelsey nodded angrily, and jerked her head back into her book.
“Well, guess I’ll have to fail. Too bad.” Gary shrugged his shoulders and unwrapped a mushy sandwich.
“Hey, Andy.” a cheery, crimson-haired girl flashed her a rather mocking, dull look. “What’s up with the face? You look like you just wrote your will.”
Several other girls began approaching the table and sat beside her sarcastic friend.
“Nothing.” The boy glimpsed back at her and gave off a small shudder.


“So, what was it that you were going to tell me? The thing that you started on before, remember?” Kelsey had finished studying thoroughly for the test and was eagerly leaning in to Andy.
“Well--I--”
“You can just tell me. It’s not like I’m going to make fun of you or anything.”
“Well--the fact is--I’m not Andy.”
Kelsey chuckled, cupping hands around her nose scornfully. “Yeah, and it was just like yesterday when you told me you were working on that--piece. Andy, please.” The boy watched her irritably as she flipped through her notebook.
“No, I’m dead serious, Kelsey. You have to believe me--I’m not fibbing--”
“Andy, we’ve been through this act--and every time I fall for it, I get made fun of. This is stupid. Just drop it.”
He’d had enough with her stubborn attitude. With the wit of a cat, he gripped her collar and had her nose touching his own. He nastily told her the firm words.
“I’m not fuc--” Kelsey thrust away at his grasp and pressed down her tousled shirt.
“Don’t touch me, Andy. It’s not funny. Just shut up.” She rolled her eyes spitefully, and continued scanning her journal while Andy hissed with rage.
The same bell burst over the student’s jabbering, and the two both stood from the brick wall and head for their classes.
“So, what’s our next class again?” Kelsey indignantly sniffed that anyone should be asking her questions after grabbing her by the shirt. The boy felt another break of exhilaration run over him. He’d never been so delighted.
“Unfortunately, our next class is Orchestra. Remember?” she pulled back the sleeve from her wristwatch. “Your least favorite. Hate to ruin your happy day.”
The boy was overwhelmed with delight. He leaped in place and beamed back at her.
“Orchestra--as in? Which one do you mean? Horns or violin?” Kelsey gave off a grunt as if she was speaking to an inquiring child. “Perhaps the whole thing?”
“No, just those little violins you hate oh so much.” She propped up her spilling books.
“Violins! Oh, I miss the sound of cellos and basses--those wonderful violas--and everything else. This is the perfect day. I’ve never felt so much happier.” Kelsey cringed at the side comment; she preferred to “take the fifth.” Or was it “the sixteenth?” No, that was woman’s rights… but, anyway, even Andy wouldn’t be able to fake a love for orchestra class. Maybe she was seeing a shrink?
When they’d arrived at the room, he sighted the wooden piano propped against the wall, and eagerly dropped his books to sprint to it. Happily, he stretched his fingers, and laid them over the white keys. Slightly puzzled to see it wasn’t a harpsichord or clavichord, he smiled at the instrument.
Kelsey pulled out an empty chair and sat beside him, grinning with pleasure. It was usually pathetic to watch Andy try to play something on the piano. But, this time, the boy had played with such great sound, it startled her. She slowly scooted her chair closer to the played instrument, seeing she was using the foot petals skillfully, and using both hands, stretching hands easily over octaves. She knew the boy hadn’t been lying by what he’d said before. But, she overlooked it as the boy expertly ran his hands along the keys.
As he improvised on the song, hitting every note on the spur of the moment, he sang the orchestra portion with it, in a surprisingly beautiful tone for little Andy who never liked music. As he continued to play, while humming in an infantile and thin pitch, but so masterly, many turned to watch. This boy was using Andy’s voice much differently then when she’d been squealing through the hallways obnoxiously; he was chanting the music in lovely most pleasant quality.
Suddenly, Miss Smith viciously gazed across back at the room to them, shocked to see when the boy turned around; it’d been Andy playing. The teacher gave off a small gasp and buckled down into her chair.
Immediately, Kelsey knew this wasn’t Andy. Not the Andy McCoy.
Kelsey quickly tugged at him to get out from the piano, and she thrust him into their assigned seat. She reached out for Andy’s chin, and jerked it towards her face violently. Brows arched, she spitefully clutched him by the collar and whispered to his face.
“Where is Andy, and what’ve you done with her?” she murmured to him. The boy gazed backwards, cautiously, and Kelsey seeing that the boy had reacted, she released his neck. He gave her a crooked expression that wouldn’t come from Andy. Her eyes gleamed with malice.
“Well, I--I didn’t do anything to Andy. It just--happened.” He explained, as Kelsey doubted him by the second. “I meant no harm--seriously. I don’t even remember anymore where I was--I just can’t recall anything. All I can understand is that I don’t belong in this girl’s body.”
Kelsey fixed narrowed eyes on him, but her brow rose after this was said. “Wait, you’re in Andy’s body? Then--then, if you’re here, then where’s--Andy?” Kelsey swallowed. “Who are you anyways?”
“I’m--I don’t know. After this happened, I completely forgot who I was, or where I was, for that matter. That’s the problem! How am I supposed to go back from this absurd place? I have no damn way to go! And no clue as to where I used to be. It’s impossible.” Kelsey suddenly heard the term “absurd” and gave into her clever instincts.
“Wait, ‘absurd?’ Hmmm, you must be from Europe… maybe England? No one around here uses that term anymore… one thing known.” She was trying her best to see the boy through her own eyes. But, as the boy sat stiffly in his chair, she couldn’t seem to get the time. Kelsey thought she’d give a go with another theory.
“Wait, give me a quick bow.” The boy’s expression twisted into uncertainty.
“A bow? To you? Why ask such a thing? America is not a damn tyranny… I have no reason to--”
“Cut the crap! Just do it.” With one final glare the boy gracefully got to his feet, swiftly put one foot behind the other, and elegantly gave a courtly bow towards Kelsey, while outstretching his hand as if offering a dance, the other tucked behind him.
“Satisfied? I’ve never been more humiliated--” he plopped down into the seat furiously.
“Just be quiet! I’m trying to figure this out--”
“WILL YOU TWO SHUT UP?! Mica’s already at the front.” A violist hissed. Immediately, Kelsey turned in her seats and snapped open her case. But, the boy stood up, flaunting his bow in the violist’s direction.
“You God damned child! No one gives you the right to speak to Kelsey or me like that!” the violist glowered back at her, about to say further. “To hell with what you’re going to say, if you’re not going to mention something civilized! If I knew your mother I’d--” Kelsey seized by the shirt and threw him down into the seat.
“If you talk like that in Miss Smith’s class, you’ll get kicked out! Now, shut up--it’s for your own good!” she leaned towards him, folding palms around her mouth, with a stern expression. Whoever this guy was, he certainly acted a lot like Andy.
“Anymore stupid comments, Andy? You’re lucky I’m not suspending you for what you just said. This time, I’m not going to send you to the office, but if it pops up again, I’m sure we’ll have a close discussion with Mr. Toby.” The boy graciously got to his feet, and gave another poised bow. What custom shows to bow to the teacher? Kelsey pondered as the boy jabbered on about his apology.
“Once again, Miss Smith, I apologize for the insubordinate behavior. You will not be seeing it again. Thank you for your respect.” He took a seat back down, Jon chuckling slightly, to think that Andy was just messing around. Miss Smith took it the same way as she paced to the composer stand.
“Andy, you’re pushing your luck. It’s not funny.”
He snuffled back indignantly. “Miss Smith, whether you believe me or not, that apology came from the bottom of my heart. I was not teasing. I’m sorry if you misinterpreted it.”
“Thank you for sharing that with us, Andy. Now let’s get on to class.” She flipped through her tidy notebook, stopping at a certain page. “Okay, turn to Orpheus In The Underworld for today. Try to bounce together, everyone.” Kelsey turned over to the page and lifted her instrument. The boy did the same, but much more promptly and gracefully. Andy’s usual palm just lying under the fingerboard was outstretched; his thumb jutting upward, and his elbow not lying on his hip, but outspread as well.
As he scanned the page at the quick beats Miss Smith gestured, he saw it as standard and not the complex music he usually played, but it was a charming piece he’d never heard before. But, he usually tired of hearing music and seeing operas that had anything to do with legends or myths. He thought it was foolish, while he preferred comic operas.
Miss Smith raised her stick in the tiny flicking motion, while he read the words “playful” over the clutter of notes.
In a masterly manner, he played the piece with ease, at only first site, bouncing the bow elegantly, already tiring of the second, background part, while admiring the first violin portion, as they swung long bows over their strings, seeing Ben easily doing it, while slouched in his chair. He was tempted to add a few snatches to the piece as they repeated the first few measures, but decided to play the whole thing through first with the others.
After repeating a few measures, they’d already been thoroughly memorized to the boy, and his eyes tore from the music, which Kelsey concentrated on for dear life, and he scanned the others, poorly bouncing together with tempo. It was too hard for only fifth grade, although in included simple notes, including the world famous Can-Can tune.
Defiantly, he reached the end, suddenly huffing at the dull tune, and as the other seconds bowed swiftly, he improvised on an extra solo routine he’d just thought of that would fit the song well.
Seeing that Kelsey soon turned to her, mouthing Stop doing that! Stop! The boy continued to do it even more thunderous with the upcoming crescendo. He grinned back at her, not even checking his quick fingerings, and she flinched in amazement while trying to concentrate on the music at the same time.
When Miss Smith struck her stick to the stand at the end, she beamed at her students, and he saw that his solo had exaggerated the charming sound in the senior orchestra. Kelsey turned to him, arms akimbo.
“What? I made the song better--she thinks everybody was playing right just because I played the little solo. How thickheaded can a musical teacher get?” she didn’t retaliate, but waved a warning finger towards him as Miss Smith leaped in joy.
“You all sounded wonderful! I think that’s the best we ever played it!” everyone eyed each other in puzzlement. Everyone had played as ghastly as they used to, why did the teacher suddenly have a change of heart?
“Yes, we did, indeed.” He laid back in his seat, arrogantly, and suddenly flipped backwards at leaning on its rear legs. The class suddenly burst into laughter. The boy merely stood up, straightened his chair, and snuffled at the class’s nastiness. Miss Smith flashed him a perplexed look.
“It’s all right! I’m okay.” He sat down, scratching his head. “A little hurt, but I’m just perfect.”
“You’re the perfect ass.” Kelsey grunted, striking the back of his head with her binder.


The boy cheerfully scanned along a pile of bookshelves, curiously slipping off a few. He gazed back to Kelsey, happily.
“So, I can take out any book from here, and I don’t even have to pay, unless I don’t return it on time?” Kelsey nodded as she tipped her bag into an empty chair. “Amazing, lending libraries where you don’t even have to pay…”
Kelsey and the boy both took a seat nearing the back of the library, and Kelsey quickly typed in her password. She turned back to him with a troubled expression, and he held the mouse feverishly.
“I’ve never seen such a type of--uh--what is it?” he ran a finger down the screen, tearing it away after hearing a drastic popping noise. “Oh! What was that?”
Kelsey chuckled. “First of all, it’s called a computer, and you shouldn’t touch the screen. It’ll have a tendency to do that now and then. You know--electricity.” The boy hadn’t the slightest clue of what she was babbling about, but he nodded his head in small agreement as he eyed the screen. “Well, I guess you’re from back in time--if you don’t know what a computer is. But, let’s see, how the hell would Andy find a way to do this?”
Suddenly, the menu bar formed towards the bottom, and Kelsey hurriedly clicked along the “start” button. He gasped in wonder at the movement on the screen and smiled back at her animatedly.
“My, this is quite interesting. Anyhow, why are we here? I don’t understand what this--thing--does.” He drummed fingers along the counter.
“We’re looking for where you came from, since you’re too dumb to remember.” She eyed the screen closely, double-clicking onto the Internet program.
“I don’t appreciate being spoken to like that--”
“This is America, you can talk to anyone anyway you like. Get used to it.”
“Well, America is a bad country then. Besides, how are we supposed to track down where I came from if I can’t even remember even a tidbit of my history?” Kelsey rested her chin on her knuckles in consideration.
“We’ll just have to find some way to do it. We already know four things--you’re from before they’d invented computers, you’re a boy, you must be a composer, and you must be from Europe. You also have a--a unique vocabulary.” She busied herself with the searching program. “We’ll have to find something under that,” she continued on typing random terminology into the search box, while the boy watched in marvel the letters appear by the mere push of the keyboard. As she haphazardly punched in the terms, he eagerly pushed down a key, immediately irritating Kelsey.
“Will you stop interrupting? You’re not helping.” He pulled back the trembling finger, and peered around the library in curiosity. “Anyway, what else can you remember? Just give me the first few letters and I’ll try to figure it out from there--”
But, through the soft chatter, and scrawling pencils, the librarian, a distasteful woman, with a nametag snapped to her breast pocket, nosily strolling along towards them, her chained glasses lowered to the tip of her nose.
“And what are you two working on? Keep in mind,” she barked, pushing up her glasses. “You can’t work on anything on the computer that isn’t school-related. What are you doing on the Internet?” Kelsey grinned and nodded her head in thought.
“We’re--err--working on a--” immediately Kelsey remembered the chaos with Andy yesterday in the hallway after school. “A project on--Mozart! Yeah, on Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. It’s for Language Arts--” The librarian looked disappointed. She gave her another frown and left to her desk, searching for other mischievous students.
At the name, the boy’s eyes suddenly grew wide. “M--Mozart? I know I’ve heard that somewhere--the name is so memorable--Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart--” he whispered. At his name, suddenly his old memory began to smother his mind, and Andy completely left his head.
“What about him? Hey, what is it?” the boy was absorbed with excitement, and gave Kelsey a broad smile.
“Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is--it’s my name! I think. I can just feel it… it seems like if you repeat your name, all your memory comes back--” Kelsey stood transfixed towards the boy. When she opened her mouth to speak, her throat tightened in amazement.
“So--so, you’re--you’re Mozart?” she croaked, suddenly cuffing in the letters “Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart” with great anxiety. After clicking the “search” button, she squirmed in her chair uneasily, seeing the boy squeal with delight.
“So--you think you’re this guy?” she enlarged the picture of a serious man playing the harpsichord. He chuckled at the drawing.
“Oh, I say! I’ve never seen a more attractive man by the light of day. He is certainly handsome, don’t you agree?” Kelsey flashed him a scowl. He shook his head out from his self-absorption.
“But, it must be how must appear when I’m older, but I’m much younger. About--ten, I do believe. I have--” he strained his memory further of once looking into the mirror. “Stunning blonde hair, with matching brows--well, don’t just stare, write this down--and I also have beautiful blue eyes, and many say when I come up with musical ideas, my eyes twinkle, making them more beautiful than before!” she glared.
“But, there’s always a dark side. I have the misfortune to being very small. Sadly, I’m forced to play concerts on a pile of thick books. Last time, my father even had to lift me up so the back of the audience could see me--stop laughing, it’s not funny.” His shoulders slouched and he groaned, as Kelsey snorted in laughter, clasping a hand to her mouth. “Though they always think I’m much older than what I really am when I give concerts, somehow, I don’t think it’s about my height.”
“Well, I guess you can’t be completely full of yourself. By this painting, this is how you look when you’re--” she scrolled down the web page to the caption, and found it was when he was 22. Suddenly, Wolfgang beamed in joy.
“So--am I famous?” he rubbed his hands in anticipation. Kelsey grimaced. “If they post me up on--this, this object--I must be known somewhere--”
“Well, yeah. You’re world-famous, Wolf--what should I call you?” he pressed a hand to his collar, haughtily.
“You can call me Wolferl or Wolfie for even shorter if you’d like. Everyone does. It’s really rather a pet name, but I prefer to being casual.” He tipped himself out from the stool, and gracefully took Kelsey’s hand. Slowly, he bowed, and kissed her hand.
“My lady, thank you. You are so kind, I shall surely marry you one day.” Kelsey gazed back to him, and suddenly saw the boy blaze through Andy. She could no longer see Andy anymore, but truly, a tiny boy with a tidy powdered wig, and a long expression, made up with those admirable sapphire eyes. It captured her for a brief moment, and she snatched her hand out from his gentle grasp, as she felt herself slightly blush.
“Stop messing around! We need to find Andy!” Wolfgang suddenly returned to Andy’s form as he shook his head in thought.
“Well, Andy is surely in my body. Oh, I completely forgot--!” he groped into his pocket and pulled out the pendant and handed it to Kelsey. “When I made a prayer of my gift being known throughout the world, this came tumbling into my bedroom. It’s likely that Andy had one too.” He smirked in pride. “I mean, I’m lucky I didn’t get three or four charms, I’m quite easily admired--I mean, who wouldn’t want to be me?” Kelsey gave him a pitiful look. She turned the pendant in her palm.
“So, you got this when you made that wish. Andy probably made a wish to actually be known for talent--but, what confuses me is--do you both have the musical talent? I mean, if you’re in Andy’s body and you’re still talking like you would back home, then Andy is probably still talking slang back in your period--” she quivered in terror.
“Oh, my God! Wolfie! You know how bad it is to leave Andy in that kind of situation? She’ll insult everybody, mess up your lifestyle, and since you have a lot of Mozart in Andy’s body anyway, she’s probably stuck there with no musical talent and just her dirty mouth. We have to go get her--we have to! We can’t just leave her! This is horrible. And, we have to find a way for you two to switch back again…”
“But, how are we supposed to do that? I don’t know how to use this--object.” He snatched it back and jammed it into his pocket. “I’m sure she doesn’t know either--I don’t even know this--Andy.”
“Well, either way, we have to switch back. You can’t live here! Even though it would get Andy off my back, it could--it could tear the fabric of time! Meaning, the future would be completely messed up!” she shut off the computer in panic and slung her backpack along her shoulder quickly. “Come on, you can--uh--come to my house. Just call home and tell your mom you’re spending the night at Kelsey’s house--you can’t go home alone.” Wolfgang nodded and followed her out the library.


“Ah! I’m not capable of playing this!” she slammed hands violently down on the keys. “Why does this weird, old guy expect me to play this hard music? It’s stupid!” she chucked down her hairpiece to the floor and drew a furious foot on top. “This is Mozart, yeah, I can understand that--but how can some boy, only fifteen years old--play this damn music?” she almost tore the score, but thought better of it.
Nannerl came skipping down the halls to greet her. She smirked and curtsied to him with a nasty expression. “Good day, great harpsichord player. I surely hope to have talent as you someday.” Andy decided to offensively not bow in return. She merely glanced past her and walked along to the family room, where Leopold sat with his wife. Leopold immediately stood up towards Andy.
“My son, today we’re to go on an outing.” Andy knew well enough to speak cordially to Wolfgang’s father. He was a pious, loving, yet firm man.
“Where to?” she still had slight trouble talking formally to him.
“Oh, just a little stroll along Salzburg, just the two of us. I need to speak to you, my son.” She nodded in agreement and reached for her coat. Once they’d stepped outside into the streets, Andy examined the snowy village in wonder. She promptly jammed her wig into place.
“So, I see that you struggle now with the harpsichord.” He suddenly said, slowly walking along the sidewalk, ignoring the peasants and people passing him. Andy flashed him a small grimace and looked down as she walked beside him.
“But, it’s not my fault. I believe, that my talent with the music has just gone away. It’ll return, but for now, I wait.” Leopold affectionately giggled back at the response.
“Wolferl, talent does not merely just wither away. It stays with you for your entire lifetime. I have a theory that you’re holding back on me, my son. I think that you don’t wish to be a musician when you grow older. I always expected for music to be your lifework, Wolfgang. Perhaps you have something to tell me?” she shook her head as they trailed onto crunching snow over the park.
“It does not concern me whether you to please me, but I worry for you, my son. You cannot just follow my standards even if I may desire them intensely. You must do what you want, as long as it does interfere with others.”
They stopped at the wonderland, and Andy overheard a robin chirping a lovely song in A major, as Leopold placed a firm hand on her shoulder. Andy couldn’t help but notice the music all around her. Leopold watched the robin flutter along through the pale skies, redbreast shown through the white flurry.
“God makes miraculous things, doesn’t He? Many do not even take the time to notice it everyday. They call for His name, ask Him to touch them, and He sends a butterfly from His creation to stroke them, but they merely swipe away the creature and continue calling. One must be wary to hear God.”
He bent down to Andy, tenderly. “Like you, my son. God sings through you. God has given you a gift. A miracle beyond explanation, and it makes me miserable to see you do this. I know that God is intending you to play music, for He would never plant the gift if He did not intend you to do it.
“You have something special, Wolferl, and you are a ten-year-old marvel. This opportunity is majestic. Not such a young boy as you can make such music. And for Nannerl too, but she is a girl. Women do not commonly compose or play for royal courts as men would.
“The time has come for you to make a decision, and it’ll make me sad to see you give this up. But, either way, you must choose your own path, not mine. Either way, I’ll always love you dearly.” They both embraced each other, and Andy felt a tear trickle down her cheek. Hastily, as for Leopold not to see, she wiped it off with the back of her hand and gave off sniffle. She felt warmth for the man.
“I’m sorry if I haven’t pleased you. I didn’t mean to take music for granted. I just can’t do it anymore. I don’t know why, Papa.” He grinned back at her.
“The talent is yours, Wolferl. You use it as you think God intended you to. No need to apologize to me. You have done nothing wrong.” Andy shook her head as they clasped together again. Other than completely portraying your son and acting like a complete bitch to your daughter, I’m sure I haven’t done anything wrong, Andy thought.
The two both marched back to the four-floor stone apartment, off to the third floor on the creaking staircase, back to their warm and cozy home.


Andy spun over the trinket in her hands, the trouncing flames reflecting off its gleaming surface. She curiously gazed back to her reflection, recognizing she’d made the wish for the transformation. It was her fault. What did she have to complain about?
Meanwhile, here she was, having received her deep desire to be famous for making beautiful music, but didn’t really have the talent. Andy couldn’t understand how she could actually enjoy this position.
Immediately, she stood to her feet, and eyed the mirror grimly. She hastily looked away for a moment, avoiding those piercing eyes fixing them back at her, and she stared back up, knowing she’d have to face them.
Those child’s shimmering eyes were what she was slowly slipping away from, and all through her life, she’d never encountered a real problem where she couldn’t just chase her mom and bribe her, or beg friends for favors, or any other effortless way out. She was on her own.
“Whoever you are, you’re the idiot who got yourself into this, and you’re the idiot who’s going to get out of it.” She muttered, squinting back at Wolfgang’s reflection, with a determined expression, but confounded at where she would go. “Okay, just, where do I leave?”
“Wolferl! Come here, my child.” She heard Wolfgang’s mother call, tapping at the door softly. Andy swung open the door, and cocked her head back at his mother, inquiringly.
“I need you to try some of the clothing I’ve sewn for you and Nannerl.” Andy winced faintly.
“Yes--err--Mama.” She followed Anna Maria, head stooped in shame. The last thing she wanted to do was strip as a boy. As Nannerl began stalking into the room with Andy, Anna Maria thrust out an exquisite, white suit towards Andy, which she lifted while fiercely biting into her lip, and a matching, beautiful court dress to Nannerl, in which she squealed with delight.
“Mama! This dress is perfect. Surely I shall dream of marrying a prince tonight.” She grinned, pressing the dress against herself, while watching the mirror dreamily. Anna Maria beamed back at her pleased daughter, and to her dismay, saw Andy flinch in disgust. But, Andy immediately stared back at her with a feigned smile.
“Yes, Mama. I adore my new suit. Thank you.” She stood towards him, impatiently.
“Well, let’s stop the conversation and begin changing! Well, go on.” Nannerl promptly began undress, happily, and lay her garments on the floor, which no embarrassment whatsoever with her mother at the corner of the room, watching.
Andy stood in place, circling her feet in apprehension. Nannerl continued ruffling through her undergarments, eagerly slipping on the new clothes.
“Wolferl, dear, why aren’t you changing?” Andy felt her cheeks blaze at the question. Anna Maria had difficulty seeing what was troubling her, but placed a tender hand on her shoulder. “Just change, Wolferl. You don’t have to be ashamed about your father.” Andy felt her brow wrinkle in anger as Wolfgang’s mother turned towards the spindle. Did everything have to flash back to her playing bad on the piano just once?
Reluctantly, and carefully, she wriggled out from Wolfgang’s clothes, tiring of having to undo layer after layer. But, she pitied Nannerl, who had already undone five layers.
“Three layers so far,” Andy murmured, unfastening the silver buckles on her shoes.
Fingers working quickly along her vest as she unbuttoned a demanding amount, she gloomily gazed back to Wolfgang’s disgruntled reflection. The boy was most divine in pure white.
“Wolfgang, quickly, my dear.” Anna Maria had turned around the second she’d been bare, and Andy squealed in embarrassment.
“Mama! Turn around, turn around!” she motioned her hands for Anna Maria to turn around in her chair. She gave Andy a grimace.
Nannerl began sniggering as she watched Andy clumsily button up the pearly vest. Anna Maria left the room quickly, calling Leopold for her misplaced needle-threader.
“Since when have you felt awkward changing around Mama? She’s your mother, for goodness sake!”
Andy made a rather nasty face, and retorted without thinking twice. “Do you think I like being this stupid boy?! Do you think I like playing the stupid music on the stupid piano?!” she roared, angrily kicking the wall, and flourishing the skirts of her flying coat. Nannerl winced and retreated from the outraged Andy.
Anna Maria returned back with a pincushion in her hands. Andy immediately stood still at her mother’s arrival. Anna Maria hitched up her homespun dress as she approached her.
“Wolfgang dear, this is too big for you--” Andy shook her head, jerking away from her mother.
“It’s fine the way it is! How tight do you want it to be?!” Andy suddenly clapped a hand to her mouth and corrected herself as Anna Maria gave her a stern expression. “I mean--it’s not too loose. It’s perfect. If it were any tighter, you’d think I was in a ballet. Don’t worry, Mama. It’s fine.”
“Wolferl, it’s not a question whether or not you think it’s suitable. We need you to dress properly, and obviously, you have a different opinion of what is proper and not.” She jabbed a pin into the baggy vest. Andy growled.


“Stop! If you have anymore jellybeans, you’re gonna make Andy fat.” Kelsey groaned, snatching away the package from him. “You’ve already eaten two boxes.”
Wolfgang pouted, popping a strawberry into his mouth. “So? Is it my problem? This is going to be the last opportunity I’ll have to eat processed food! Artificial flavor… I need it…” Kelsey eyed him skeptically.
“You look like my dad and his morning coffee, creepy…” she slipped the box back into the cabinet, pulling back her sandy hair.
“Can’t I at least have one lemon? Please?” Kelsey reached into the box and handed him an orange. He grunted, and seized it.
Wolfgang continued to grope through the pantries, but was grabbed at the collar by Kelsey, and hauled out from the kitchen. “Uh--uh, no more Froot Loops!”
“Okay, we need to figure out how to get Andy. How does this--thing--work?”
“Didn’t I already tell you? I haven’t the slightest clue.” He searched the room, cheerfully. “Well, what do you--Yankees--do for fun?” Kelsey grumbled.
“Focus! We can’t just have fun when Andy is back in your body! Don’t you care?”
“Not really.” He was examining a glass figurine from a shelf. “As long as she doesn’t overeat, mess up my clothing or hair, pose to the mirror naked, aggravate my mother or father with complaints, or ruin my reputa--” the statuette fell out from his hand, and he barely caught it in thought. “MY REPUTATION!” he cried, clutching Kelsey by the shirt in panic. “If she doesn’t know how to play--I’ll--I’ll be--banished!” he stammered, suddenly sobbing and throwing arms around a confused Kelsey.
“Okay, stop. That’s why we need to find her. Stop!” he looked back up to her, with Andy’s tear-stained face. “I hate to ruin the moment, but told you so. We need to get her as soon as we can.” But Wolfgang’s attention span seemed to not last more than a few seconds. Immediately, he wiped off his tears, and shook his head.
“Well, how much damage can she do in a few hours? It’s no problem to me. Let’s have some fun. It’s a Friday.”
“You’d be surprised how much she can do in only a few seconds…”
“For now, let’s just have some Yankee--” seeing the expression on Kelsey’s face, he corrected himself. “Some American entertainment! Andy tells me you girls like to gather at slumber parties, stuff yourselves with food, play stupid games, have pillow fights in only your underwear--oh, I want a slumber party! Hell, I need to start courting some nude women!” Wolfgang darted for the telephone, covered by Kelsey.
“First of all, you pervert, we don’t have time for a sleepover. If you didn’t notice, you’re a world-famous composer, and you’re stuck in the body of a girl over 200 years ahead of your time! Can’t you have at least a little sense?” Wolfgang nodded his head in agreement, but thrusted out a hand for the receiver.
“Yes, I can understand you there, but not when there are undressed girls at stake!”
“Stop! I know you can’t resist with your sick little world, but we can’t waste any time! This could be the end of everything!” the boy stopped at her scolding.
“Fine, but, you’re in debt of me from this point on. Anyway, down to business.”
“Well, we need to find some sign from the talisman. That’s the most valuable thing we have to go get Andy, and get this thing straight.” She inspected the amulet warily.
The room suddenly darkened, and a vein of light pierced the object, twirling around both of them, brilliantly. Wolfgang’s eyes followed the light, which began to weave around the room, and Kelsey examined the charm, further.
A breeze slowly billowed from the amulet, whipping away Kelsey’s locks, as she gripped the charm, and a clear scenery began forming above it, as if pure transparent glass. Wolfgang eyed the light warily as it spun through the room.
Suddenly, through the silvery scenery of the peaceful village, coated in a snowfall, a gorgeous boy trotted through the township. A tiny boy clutching an oversized coat around him, but by the long, soft-boned pleasant face, he easily seemed to be around his teens.
Wolfgang hadn’t been dishonest; the boy had stunning eyes, though they were difficult clearly seen by their tense, swiveling motion, and through the thick flurry, Andy was clumsily sprinting through the streets.
Kelsey felt a surge of determination.
“Andy, I’m going to get you… I’m going to get you if it’s the last thing I do…” she rasped, straining her voice to stiffen.
She continued gazing into the hazel pair of striking eyes, focusing her admiring eyesight. But, she saw Wolfgang faintly thrusted out a hand to the image, and saw his writhing fingers only ripple at the landscape. Shockingly, his eyes were welled up with tears, as he miserably watched his figure gallop along the sidewalks.
“Mama, Papa, Nannerl. How could I neglect you? Bimperl, Herr Canary, how could I leave your side for such selfish reasons?” he moaned, pulling back his hand to his tear-stained cheeks.
He fell back to his knees, howling in remorse. “I’m so sorry! But, it’s too late now. I can’t make any further changes. I’ll miss you dearly… I certainly hope you feel the same…”
Kelsey felt her brows rise in pity. Although the boy had said more than enough twisted words, and was a bit conceited, he meant no harm. She knew that everyone had a compassionate side to them; some are just hidden.
She quivered at a wave of guilt suddenly pour over her, and couldn’t help but sympathize the poor boy. Kelsey couldn’t recognize whether it was the childlike, brilliant eyes to the view or purely him. The childish, smutty, lusting boy laid on the floor, weeping soundly, eyes crumpled with tears.
“Show me the way home.” She said by instinct, no hint of discouragement in her firm tone.
To her surprise, the barreling vein of beam suddenly spiraled into thin air, releasing tiny sparks through the dimness of the room, and the image slowly rippled from view.
Quickly, the streak of glow, formed into a tip, and began scribbling its path along through the air, forming clear sentences. Curiously running her finger down the words, as they scrawled along the room, a sharp poem formed in mysterious lettering.

Gallivant on your journey as you please
Etching away your sin, with knocking knees
Never again see the light upon your gracious face
Eating away at your sin, with your reward to chase
Soon you will be found through the mucks of crime
I hold the metamorphosis and your seal to the bind
Seek the hidden book through this little rhyme
(3:17-19)

Kelsey turned back to Wolfgang, who was now fixing his stare on the poem, swiping his face of any tears, and she recited the poem aloud. After repeating the final line numerous times, Wolfgang brought up a hand to his chin, and tapped his lip in consideration.
The words began glowing weaker, and Kelsey urged him to quickly solve the riddle before it completely vanished. Slightly shaken, he read the puzzle a second time, and repeated the final column.
“ ‘Seek the hidden book through this little rhyme…’ but what book?” he muttered, narrowing eyes along the untidy scrawl. But, suddenly his luminous eyes widened. “Book! A book! Look at the verse towards the bottom, Kelsey. The book!”
Kelsey flashed him a perplexed look. “I don’t get it-what do you mean by book?”
“Why of course! A book of the Bible! The verses are listed at the bottom, somewhere there needs to be some sign of a book…” he briskly scanned the poem, and Kelsey suddenly broke into a grin.
“It’s there, Wolfie! Along the side! Genesis…” she nodded towards him in excitement. “We need to find the book of Genesis, chapter three, and read verses 17 to 19… that’s it! We got it!”
The dimming scribbling suddenly popped into midair, and vanished altogether. Wolfgang and Kelsey both embraced at the answer, but noticing at what they’d been doing, snapped away in disgust. Light had seemed to slowly flood back into the room again.
“Uh! Why’d you hug me?” she grumbled, promptly wiping off her sleeve.
“Me? You were the one who touched me!” he retorted, teeth barred.
“Whatever, let’s get this over with…” Kelsey sighed, slipping off a tattered Bible from a nearby shelf. Wolfgang got to his feet, along with Kelsey, and she handed him the hardcover, impatiently.
“I’m sure you probably could find the verses that we need faster, so do it. Fast!” he snatched the book, and flicked through the flimsy pages in disappointment.
“For a smart girl like you… and you don’t even know that Genesis is the first book of the Bible… it disappoints me, my dear.” He tutted in dismay, as he opened to the page quickly.
Without delay, he ran a finger along the page, and easily found the verses, and returned an irritated Kelsey the book back.
“Okay, no more side comments from this point on. Understood?” Kelsey had a tendency to express small annoyance to friends when she just couldn’t hide her enthusiasm.
“I know you highly doubt I’ll be capable of following that, don’t you?” he beamed back to her, hands folded in thrill.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
But, she pointed to verse 17 and began reading, in a firm tone, the heavy Bible cradled in her palms.
“To Adam he said, ‘Because you listened to your wife and ate from the tree about which I commanded you, ‘You must not eat of it,’” she gazed back to Wolfgang, who was reciting the piece by heart. “Cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil-” she slowly felt a gust of wind whip aside fallen strands of her hair, and she paused to inhale a deep breath. “You will eat of it all the days of your life. It will produce thorns and thistles for you, and you will eat the plants of the field. By the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground, since from it you were taken; for dust you are and to dust you will return.’”
Kelsey retreated from the Bible, which was now floating through midair, and trembling, with a strong light pouring out from the pages, and she paced back at the roaring snapping shut of the book. The book tumbled down from the air, and hit the floor with a crack, and Wolfgang’s pendant began fiercely shimmering.

You’ve found the riddle to be at ease
But I am not prone or honored to appease
By the full moon of the seventh day
You may bid your body a good day
For it will be permanent at this
But, a past you’ll discover
With the fatal taste of lips

“W--what’s happening, Wolfie?” Wolfgang merely gave her a small nod, and swiped her hand, a surge of might smacked her back, and they both plummeted inside the talisman, too thrilled to read clearly anything of the final poem.


Gary thrusted his hands into his pockets, flashing Jon an annoyed look. Jon gave him an enthusiastic wink.
“Look at it this way, Gary, I finally get to take a little walk down rich ass valley.” he happily eyed an enormous home, running a twig through the fence. “Maybe this’ll knock some civilized behavior into me.”
“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, why do you have to wear that stupid skater boy hat, and why’d you bring your stereo?”
Jon glowered back him from under the stocking cap. “First of all, it’s my trailer park hat. You know that. I wear it all the time. But, I’ll assume that you haven’t come to the park for awhile to know that. If I live in the park, I might as well dress the part.”
Gary chuckled. “Don’t tell me. It’s to hide your brillow-head, huh?”
Jon flushed slightly. “Well, curly hair is sexy. You just can’t express your jealousy. And second of all, I brought my stereo ‘cause Andy wanted some good crip-walkin lessons, which I’m the best person to go to for. I’m practically the only white person who can do a sweet crip. You know that. Plus, if you’re lucky, you might even see some break-dancing too.”
“I thought you were gonna go to the store to buy the groceries. In case you forgot, your mom told you to.”
“Well--let’s just say I arranged some plans, ahead of time… and had to change last minute with no intention of telling my mom. Oh, look at that house!”
“Jon, I live here. Just keep a solid two feet away from me, so I won’t get any trailer park disease.” Jon gazed back to Gary with a grimace.
“Aw, Gary. Spare the poor some pity. It’s not my fault my parents decided to live in a smelly, white trash neighborhood.” he snapped the branch in half and tossed it aside, slipping his hands into his baggy pockets.
“Don’t you come beggin’ to me. It’s not my fault either that my parents got a good house for me.”
“Well, obviously you may have gotten the good house, but it’s also not your fault that you got all the bad looks from them!” Jon stopped in his tracks, laughing, but suddenly broke into a run seeing Gary’s vicious expression.
“I’M GONNA KICK YOUR LITTLE, WHITE TRASH--”
“Hey, I think that’s Kelsey’s house--Gary, could you please put me down?”
They both stumbled at the front of a rather small but pleasant home, and Gary released Jon’s neck.
“Tryin’ to take advantage of the short people--it’s just wrong. It’s like you freakishly tall people got something against us.”
The two both swung open the gateway through the fence halfheartedly and strode to the porch. Once they’d walked up the steps, Jon was the first to reach for the doorbell.
“What d’you think you’re doing?” Gary grumbled, thrusting aside his hand.
“I’m ringing the bell. You know, so we can go inside the house. I’m pretty sure your parents got someone to ring it for you when you walk around the neighborhood, but don’t worry. Fortunately, I know how.”
“Zip the smart shit, ‘cause I’m answering it. You know what’ll happen if you ring it. You’ll start up that dumb act you show to parents all the time. That’s why I don’t invite you over anymore. You know how my mom always gets. Bring out the cookies, and start makin’ all those dumb comments…”
“Fine, I’ll play along.” he squelched his comments, and grinned towards Gary at his pressing the bell. “Great! You did it by yourself this time. Bet your parents will be very pr--” the door thrusted open, revealing a similar, older form of Kelsey. “Hell--o, Mrs. Foster! It’s so nice to meet you. Kelsey’s told me great things about you--” he sociably shook her hand, and beamed, rather mockingly.
“Hello, Mrs. Foster. I’m Gary, and this is Jon. I’m sure Kelsey’s told you about us before--” her mother nodded, eyes glistening with disapproval.
“Yes, plenty enough for me to see you to judge that you’re a bad pair! Doing trouble like that at a public school. You should be ashamed of yourselves! I hope you’re satisfied. You’ve certainly made fools of yourselves by what my baby’s told me.” she glared at both of them, arms akimbo. “Anyway, why’d you bring yourselves here today? Some more trouble? What do you want with my Kelsey?”
Jon gulped in alarm. “Well, Mrs. Foster, we heard that Andy had come with Kelsey after school today, and we were just wondering if we could--if we could--”
“If we could just come inside, Mrs. Foster.”
“Come inside my house? Certainly, just don’t cause anymore trouble than you have already. Well, don’t just stand there, move on in.” both boys glimpsed back towards each other in panic and stepped inside.
“Thank you Mrs. Foster. We really appreciate--”
“Cut that crap. Don’t you try to suck up to me. She’s upstairs in her room. Wipe your feet.”
They both obeyed, and trotted up the stairs. “Damn, what do you think Kelsey told her mom about us? If some other mom talked to her, they’d think we were some juvenile kids.” Jon mumbled, muffled by the shuffling of feet.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if she did believe that.”
They trailed through a charming hallway, and found one bedroom, the door already opened, and a Bible thrown at the floor, pages creased by it abruptly being shut. Jon curiously paced inside, examining the neat shelves and tidy bed sheets.
Flopping onto her bed, casually, he sprawled onto the pillow, and grinned, dropping his stereo carelessly. “I’ll tell you one thing. This is better than a cramped little trailer.”
“Get off Kelsey’s bed, Jon.” after shoving Jon from the mattress, he slipped open the tattered book from the floor.
“Where’s Kelsey? I didn’t come here for a Hollywood tour of her house, we need Andy.” Jon groaned, gently shutting the door.
“And why’s this Bible on the floor? Kelsey’s perfect, yeah--” he gazed back to Jon, angrily. “We can all agree on that, but she’s religious?”
“You learn a new thing everyday, man.” he shrugged his shoulders, slapping his hands back to sides.
Gary sighted the talisman on the ground beside the book, and craned a long arm to reach it. He quickly observed the golden pendant, and tossed it back to Jon. Hurriedly catching it, he impatiently retorted.
“Gary, let’s find some other stuff in here. Maybe we can even find her diary or something--”
Gary could easily feel that even if Kelsey was a bit eccentric, there was obviously something wrong. A Bible lain on the floor, recently closed messily, and a charm he’d never seen before beside it was just not normal. He caressed the old book, noticing that its fringed pages were unusually warm.
“Jon, just shut up. There’s something wrong goin on here, and I know it.” Jon glowered back to him.
“Gary! We’re alone, in Kelsey’s room, with all her stuff in here. The last thing I want to do is figure out what’s wrong with her. I’m sure she’s fine, just doin’ her thing with her little bitch ass friend of hers.” he flinched. “Even if that little bitch ass is what we came for, but--”
“Well, she’s in trouble. I just know it. This isn’t normal to just leave all this crap on the floor. Even for Kelsey--”
“Okay, we’ll do this shit, but you owe me, man. You owe me big time.”
The two both reached for the amulet, touching it at the same moment, Jon heaving up his stereo, and their brows raised at the diving movement inside of the talisman. Plummeting into the charm briskly, they both screamed at the prospect and jammed their eyes shut.
“Gary, did I mention exactly how much you owe me, man?”


“I have to find a way back… anywhere…” Andy mumbled under her breath, through furious panting as she trotted through the crisp snow.
Her hands were beginning to numb with cold as she managed to hold the enormous coat around her, while also holding her hat through the thick flurry.
She continued sprinting along the streets, slightly stumbling along the long overcoat. The wind churned with the crumpled snowflakes, and she sighted a figure through the distance. The man waved cheerfully to her, and she gestured in return, but accidentally allowed her hat to whip into the wind. She grunted impatiently, and reluctantly popped out from the coat, tearing after it, gracefully.
She bounded into the air, catching the twirling hat easily, as if it were a whizzing Frisbee. The man approached her, expression slightly stunned.
“Wolfgang, my boy, how do you do? I’ve never seen you run like that...” Andy promptly slipped back into the coat and hat, mind racing with excuses.
“Well, I’m fine--Herr Schactner. You?” she stuttered, struggling to recall names..
“Yes, quite fine.” he sniffed in confusion. “Why are you on an outing without your father? Did you query to go outside by yourself?”
“W-well, of--of course I did! Why would I--I of all people do such a thing?”
“Yes,” he murmured, easily doubtful. “Well, why out on such a storm? You could get pneumonia, you know.” Andy nodded, clutching her thick coat tighter around her trembling body. “Oh, you poor thing. I’ll escort you back home. You can’t stay in this blustery weather like this. You may become ill.”
“But--but, Herr Schactner! I n-need to! It’s--it’s important. Very urgent…”
“No more excuses. I’m taking you home. I know Leopold wouldn’t want you outside. You don’t even have your gloves. Come, my child.” Andy hesitantly followed him back to the stone apartment, grumbling under her breath. She had to find the way back home. What home, though?
As Herr Schactner cheerily babbled amongst himself, Andy examining the closest exit for when he left, he led her up the stairs, and strode away from the door, suspiciously eyeing her as he departed.
“Th--thank you, Herr Schactner.”
“Anytime, Wolfgang. I just don’t wish to worry your father.” she intently watched him walk down the spiraling staircase, waiting until she heard the final step down, and quietly tiptoed down.
But, behind her, she heard the door swing open, and she jerked around, grinning guiltily. It was Leopold. A slightly pale, apprehensive form of him, but the face was definitely recognizable.
“Uh--h-hello, Papa.” she piped, arms shoved quickly behind her, in a gentlemanly manner.
“Wolferl, where have you been? We’ve frightened to death of your disappearance! Why in heaven’s sake did you leave?” he dashed forth and embraced her tightly.
“I--I went outside. I was--was very warm.” she muttered into his open arms.
“My son! What an imprudent decision! It’s freezing cold outside. Come inside and you’ll take a warm bath and have something warm to eat. You could get ill.”
He ushered Andy into their cozy home, and she grinned at the warmth. It was rather nice to be in the Mozart home again. It wasn’t a luxurious, large home, but it was welcoming and small.
“Go take a bath with the new warm water in the pitcher, Wolferl. I set it up for you, my dear.” Anna Maria beamed, stooping down to fix her son’s ragged collar. Andy pushed aside Anna Maria’s gentle hand, shaking off her dripping hair of thawed snow.
“Yes, Mama.” Andy timidly trailed over to the washing room, slipping off her wet coat onto a flimsy rail. She tipped her hat into an empty, wooden chair, and grimaced at the mere crockery basin and pitcher of sweltering water.
“You’re in luck, Wolferl. The water’s especially warm for being out so long today.” she flourished a clean towel and exchanged it for the sopping clothing on the wooden chair. “I don’t understand why you would do something so foolish, my dear.” she muttered, as she pinned up the clothing onto a hung rope. She worked at wiping the floors dry of puddles with a stained rag, while grunting indignantly.
“But, Mama. It was quite important. It was--err--business.” Andy poorly feigned.
“Save the rest of your story for later. Get in the basin to wash.”
Anna Maria briskly walked out the door, clutching the dirty clothes. She put a warning finger to her lips, and left with the folded clothes in a wicker basket. Andy began stripping when the door jammed shut, eyes closed.
“I’d never thought I’d see the day when I’d change my clothes and see testicles.” she whispered as she swiftly unbuttoned her vest.
A mirror at the corner of the room made it twice as difficult to avoid seeing Wolfgang’s genitals, but she caught a tiny glimpse at his backside.
“Cute tush.” she mumbled, and she slowly dipped into the tub, sighing with relief.
Slowly, she sunk deeper into the warm water, tipping her hair back, until suddenly, Anna Maria returned with a tiny bar of soap. Andy gasped in alarm, slightly shaken by the interruption.
“This is one of the last of the soap, Wolfgang. Don’t use too much--well, I’ll just wash you, dear. It’ll be best that way.” Andy stifled a groan. “You know that soap is very expensive.”
“Um--um, no problem! I--I can certainly wash myself well. Don’t even worry about it--I won’t use anymore than just a tiny piece.” she sunk lower into the basin of water in embarrassment.
“Well, if you really want to wash yourself, I’ll--I’ll just scrub your hair off. Is that okay, my dear?” Andy hesitated, but gave in quickly, nodding enthusiastically.
“Yes, Mama. I think that’s for the best.” Andy murmured.
Anna Maria jerked Andy out from under the tub, and began fiercely scrubbing her head with a chunk from the soap. Andy winced slightly at her aggressiveness, but held back her cries.
“Uh--Mama, could you scrub a little less harder?”
Anna Maria merely flashed her a stern look. “You want your hair to be clean, don’t you, dear?”
“Of course, but--”
“Then don’t debate with me, young man.” she shook her head gravely, only washing harder. “You don’t want to be shaved clean like your great uncle, do you? And I’m certain you don’t want your hair to be grimy and filthy.”
“But--”
“I won’t tell you again, dear. Don’t argue with me, understood? You‘ll have plenty of that to do with Nannerl.” she muttered, a finger to her lips as she scrubbed at what felt Andy’s scalp being cleaned bare. “I don’t think you take quite good care of hair, and I’ll be needing to wash it until you learn.”
“Yes, Mama.” Andy grumbled, not in the mood to confront. Anna Maria poured the pitcher of water over her head, and kept her side comments silent for the time being.