A Thousand Perfect Notes

by C.G. Drews

He’s pretty sure glitter is an evil substance that is magnetically attracted to people who hate it most.

She takes off down the road, the twilight swallowing her before he can reply and he’s left standing in the cold with a mouthful of words he can’t say.

‘That girl,’ the Maestro says, ‘August. She does not love you. She loves broken things.’

‘This is what friends are for. To help in time of strife and stuff chocolate down your throat when you’re miserable. That sort of fun stuff.’

‘And this is Tortle.’ August picks up the turtle and strokes its shell. ‘We didn’t know if he was a tortoise or a turtle when we found him, so we covered both bases.’ ‘Clever,’ says Beck. ‘Exceptionally.’ August sets it back down. ‘Plus, with a free-spirited name like Tortle, he won’t conform to stereotypes. Look at him now! He’s embracing his life with no stereotypical box!’

‘You’re seriously mean to me,’ Beck says. ‘That’s why you like me.’ No, he likes her because there’s sunshine in her eyes and she knows the secrets to smiling.

Some people are suited to non-judgemental animal company, don’t you think?’

‘Mistakes do not cancel the worth of a performance. They encourage us to work harder, aim higher.

‘I’m sorry it’s not perfect, though,’ Beck says. ‘I totally made mistakes—’ ‘Oh stop it.’ She faces him, speaking clearly, and he hears her this time. ‘You are worth more than a thousand perfect notes.’ And finally, his hands stop trembling.