Ukulele Training

It was late. A single light was on in one of the music rooms, illuminating a girl on a stool, clutching an instrument. Faint, strumming music radiated from the door. Every now and then it stopped as the player questioned a chord or tested a new sound. Eventually, humming joined the strums.

Mary sat alone in the music room. Class had long been dismissed, and the teacher left, but here Mary sat, practicing.

With a ukulele.

Mary didn't know why she loved the ukulele so much. She could have chosen the violin. Viola. Clarinet. Even piano. But she chose the ukulele because no one else did. And she could carry it everywhere. And it was easy to play. And it could only really play happy songs. It was hard to make a ukulele sound sad.

Even so, Mary chose the ukulele because she wanted to start off with one song pertaining to one of her favorite novels, Wuthering Heights. It was a funny song, starting off as some airy ballad with synthetic, but a ukulele group had twisted it into a fun song.. Ukuleles just make things fun.

So Mary sat, learning her ukulele song. It wouldn't be long before she could actually sing and play at the same time.

Mary didn't even notice there was a boy still in the room. But she did hear him jump up and scream. She promptly fell from the school and now she's lyin' on the cold hard ground. She shifts before standing up in a hurry, frowning.

"It's.. don't worry about it." She stood, ukulele in hand, reluctant as to whether retake her seat or shuffle out.

"Err... How long were you there?" She mumbles, tugging on her ponytail. She glances to her stool, edging towards her seat.

"I was just.. playing ukulele. You know. Music class."

((Noted.))

Mary blinked, a bit shocked by the kid's... enthusiasm?

"Oh. I'm just learning a few songs. I'm no professional. I'm not that great." She said softly, opposing the boy's excitement with mute shyness. This kid was crazy. How could he have so much energy after a nap that long? It was insane. Mary had no idea how anyone could do that. "You really shouldn't sleep in class.. Do it with the wrong teacher and you'll get detention... Or something."

Mary sat again on her stool, shifting and tucking her feet on the legs, ukulele in her lap. She tried not to be shaken up by the... bouncing. "You can see it if you want. I guess. It's not mine." She offered the instrument out to him in attempt to sate his curiosity and turn attention away from her. Maybe he'd fall asleep again and she could sneak out.

"I think professionals earn their name. The nice ones, at least. Composers..." She trailed off as he spoke, blinking several times. This guy could really say a lot in a short minute. She reached up to tuck a loose hair behind her ear and nodded as he spoke.

"It's nice you're friends with the teachers. You shouldn't sleep in class though." She smiled weakly, trying to appear friendly. This guy seemed nice, and he hadn't laughed at her ukulele yet. In fact, it seemed he'd only laughed at himself.

Her eyebrows arched at his request. She set the ukulele in her lap and rested her finger on the strings. "I'm not that good yet. Are you sure?" She shifted in her stool.

((Marco: :biggrin:
Mary: ))

Mary strummed the ukulele patiently, nodding again. "Well. If you really want to.." She'd hated to let him down. He was like a little kid waiting to be enthralled by a parent. And his enthusiasm... Hard to come by in a place like this.

The sunlight filtered through the window, illuminating the room and casting long shadows on the the wall.

Well, everything except for Mary.

"I'm just going to start, uhm, in the middle. Yeah."

She began strumming, slow at first, but then picking up as she fell into the easy chords. She paused, fingers stopping on the strings. A moment later, her fingers picked up and she began to sing along.

"I pine a lot, I find the lot falls through without thee. I'm comin' back, love, cruel Heathcliff, my one dream, my only master," She took a breath. "Too long I roam in the night. I'm comin' back to his side, to put it right. I'm comin' home to Wuthering, Wuthering, Wuthering Heights!"

Her fingers switched positions, and the tune stopped as she corrected her placement. It became a much more cheerful tune, horribly ironic to the dismal novel it was based on.

"Heathcliff! It's me, your Cathy, I've come home and I'm so co-o-o-old, let me into your window-oh-oh-oh!" She repeated the line once more, and stopped, shyly looking up.

"That's all I got so far. Do you like Wuthering Heights?"

(( <a href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KmBaE7ozWow' target='_blank' rel='nofollow'>MUSIC HERE!</a> ))

Mary rested the ukulele on her lap, smiling to her new friend. Her head ducked at great exuberance. She blinked at his offered hand, pausing before shaking his hand. "Mary. Mary Johnson. A pleasure."

Her hand retracted and she frowned as he spoke, weighing the words. "Well.. Wuthering Heights is a tale of love lost, and the crazed attempts of a man to get it back. Of course it's sad." She forced a chuckle and a shrug. "It's okay. Some people like big books, and other people like beaches, and some people like ice and others like camp fires. I never understood people who thought others were lesser for not liking thick tomes of ink and paper."

She shrugged again. She liked some big tomes, and not others, and that was just fine. But a teacher once told her that she was being picky, but Mary never believed

Marine swallowed hard as the guy became suddenly serious. That was unnerving, how he could switch back and forth like that. She smiled, though. It was humorous.

Her smile faded at his admission and the spark of flame from his finger. "Oh..." She said, staring at the flame. A pyrotechnic. Really, her luck. "That's.. cool. I knew a pyrotechnic once..." She shook her head. "I've been here a long time."

In a moment, she got quiet, no sound coming from her. Then, in the next, she went invisible, letting the ukulele slide onto the stool. She moved silently to stand next to him, and reappeared. "I can make myself disappear. Useful tool. Highly underrated."

Mary giggled at the reaction of her peer. The first impression of her "gift" always got the best reactions. Some funny, some angry, some bewildered... But in the end, they always looked around for her, as if expecting a teleporter.

"Didn't scare you, did I?" She grinned to Marco, retaking her seat on the stool and setting the ukulele aside.

"I suppose I could raid the kitchen.. I think you'd enjoy that more than me though. The cooks here are lovely, but they don't really have the food I'm particular for. I like Chinese. They kind that comes from one of those tiny shoebox stores, y'know? The more authentic, the better."

She got quiet, realizing she talked quite a bit.

Mary shrugged. "A little fire doesn't scare me. A big fire, though... It doesn't frighten me, fire, but the people who wield it tend to be a bit... Hard to predict. Like fire, I guess."

She jumped as he left his seat, her image wavering for a split second. She smiled nervously at his excitement until he spoke. As he mentioned the restaurant, her smile looked more relaxed and she nodded. "Yeah, that sounds great. That sounds really, really great."

After a glance out the window, she looked around for a clock. "I don't know what time it is, though.. Will it still be open?" She stood, tugging on the long sleeves of her shirt.

Mary gave a little laugh at the excitement she was seeing. This was too funny. She'd never seen anyone so happy over going out to get food, especially all the way out to the city just to get some foreign food that might turn out to be not that great!

Well, he said it was great, so Mary would just have to trust him. She laughed again at his comment, shaking her head. Funny kid.

"Thank you, Monsieur. We shall." she responded, holding back another laugh as she slid her arm through Marco's. "I hope you know where you're going..."