Forgive Me, Leonard Peacock(17)

Two points!

But in real life, I just stood there.

In the locker room they started in on Baback again while he was changing.

“What’s this?” Asher asked as he plucked the violin case from Baback’s locker.

Baback was trying to get his pants on and actually fell over. His little naked brown chest was concave. His nipples were purple-black. “That’s my grandfather’s violin. Careful. Please. It’s been in my family for generations!” Baback’s eyes were wide open—he looked terrified.

No one was really paying me any attention, so I snuck up behind Asher and snatched the violin out of his hands before he realized what was going on.

“Peacock?” Asher said.

I gave the violin back to Baback, and he clutched it to his chest like it was a baby.

“You touch him or his violin again and I tell everyone the secret,” I said. The words just came out of my mouth before I could think. Suddenly my heart was pounding and my tongue was bone dry. But I added, “I swear to god. I’ll tell everyone. Everyone!”

Asher’s eyes got really small because he knew exactly what I was referring to, but he said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Peacock. You’re so f*cking weird.”

Asher laughed and then turned away from Baback and me.

I could tell that some of Asher’s friends were like—What secret?—and that was my power over Asher Beal back then.

He backed down from me, and that cost him.

Baback just got changed and left the locker room without even thanking me or anything, which depressed me a little, truth be told.

Just to make sure he was okay, I looked for Baback next period at lunch, but he wasn’t there, which was strange because all sophomores had the same cafeteria time.

The next day in gym I watched to make sure Asher and his übermoron cronies left Baback alone, and they did. So halfway through gym class, as we both pretended to play floor hockey, I jogged up to Baback and said, “Why weren’t you in lunch yesterday? Did you go to the nurse?”

“I don’t want any trouble,” Baback said without looking at me. His eyes followed the little orange ball that the rest of our gym class was running after and slapping at. “Just leave me alone.”

No one messed with Baback in the locker room either, which made me feel a little proud.

I decided to follow Baback when the period was over and I watched him meet the janitor at the auditorium. The janitor let Baback in and then left. The auditorium is in a part of the school that isn’t used for much else, so there’s usually no one around there. I looked through the window in the door and watched Baback take his violin out of the case, tune, and then begin to practice.

To say he was amazing would be an understatement.

He was world-class at fifteen—better than anyone you will ever hear play the violin.

A musical wizard.

I watched through the glass and listened to that little tiny boy make gigantic swirls of rising and falling notes that made my chest ache and ache.

It was so beautiful.

The best part was that he closed his eyes and kept nodding to the rhythm of his bow sawing, and you could tell that when he played his violin, he wasn’t a tiny misplaced Iranian boy living in a secretly racist town—no, he was a god in complete control of his world.

It was like the violin bow was a magic wand, and the vibrations that came out of the holes cut into that little wooden instrument were a force that few could reckon with.

He seemed to grow tall in front of me.

And I understood why he didn’t need friends or to be accepted at our shitty racist high school, because he had his music, and that was so much better than anything we had to offer.

“You’re a genius,” I said when he exited the auditorium.

Baback just blinked the same way he did when he’d been struck between the eyes with the orange hockey ball. “Were you spying on me?”

“How did you learn to play like that?”

“I don’t want any trouble,” he said, and then walked away.

The next day I made sure to be there when the janitor let Baback in.

Baback said, “I need to practice.”

“I just want to listen. I’ll sit in the back and won’t interrupt.”

Baback sighed, took the stage, and began to play.

I sat in the last row, closed my eyes, and was transported out of our terrible high school and into a new, better place.

When the music stopped, I opened my eyes and across the tops of so many rows of seats, I yelled, “Did you write that music?”

He blinked again and yelled back, “It’s Paganini. The violin concertos. Bits of the solos that I can’t get right—ever.”

“They were perfect! I love it. This is the greatest secret. Something miraculous happens every day at this high school, and I’m the only student who knows about it.”

“Don’t tell anyone, please!” Baback yelled back. “About my using the auditorium. I’m not supposed to let anyone know. My parents had to beg for permission. If other students ask to use the auditorium, I won’t be allowed to practice in here alone anymore. Please!”

I could tell that he was really worried about this, so I walked down the aisle and when I reached him I said, “Let me listen and I won’t tell a soul. I promise. Nor will I ever interrupt you. I’d never want to alter what happens here. Never. Think of me like a ghost.”