Page 21 of String Boys

Seth’s face heated, and he studied the frets on his violin. “I… uh….”

“I’m pretty, right?” Kelly pressed. “Like, like I’m whatwuzit? Mooncalfable.”

“Youarepretty,” Seth blurted, and then looked at Mr. Pantalone in horror.

Mr. Pantalone was rubbing the back of his neck like he was in pain. “It’s like herding fish,” he mumbled. “You want them to go one way, and then you’re riding a mooncalf in the river.”

Kelly chortled. “He’s funny! And pretty!” Then he gave Mr. Pantalone a scowl. “Now, if he’d stop trying to get you to leave Sacramento, I might be able to stand him.”

Mr. Pantalone eyed Kelly speculatively. “You could visit him,” he said pleasantly. “It’s a fine arts school—sort of an experiment. A bridge for fine and performing arts students. There’s an art department. And galleries. And field trips. You might even qualify yourself.”

Kelly cocked his head. “Prettyandsmart,” he observed. “I have sisters to take care of. No fancy schools for me. But you want him to go, why?”

“Because he’s insanely talented,” Mr. Pantalone told him, dead serious. Seth’s mouth dropped open. People just didn’tsaythat about kids, did they? “He’s insanely talented, and I want him to go somewhere where he’ll find a way to make a difference. I want that thing he does, where he makes the instrument in his hands cry and laugh and sing? I want him to share that with the world. And he can’t do that if he goes to American River College. I mean, hecould,and then he could transfer to Northridge, and he might still have a career, but I want him to have it now. I want him to have the best teachers and the best opportunities. I want the world to hear him.”

Kelly’s lips parted slightly, and he licked the upper one in thought. “You want him to be important,” he said, nodding.

“Yes.”

“I think that’s a good thing. What do you think, Seth?”

Seth had to shake himself. He’d been concentrating on Kelly’s lips.

“I don’t know,” he said helplessly. “I… I just want to play.”

Mr. Pantalone looked at him in resignation. “You think about it, okay? The offer’s open until June.”

“So after my parents take us camping!” Kelly said, nodding like Seth knew about that already. Which he didn’t. “And then I could visit you next year!”

Seth opened his mouth and closed it. “You want me to go?” Oh God. He said that. He said that in front of ateacher.

And Kelly—Kelly’s happy, excited, shining expression dimmed suddenly, like a cloud in front of the sun. “I don’t want you to go,” he said, completely sober. “I want you to be important. You’ve been playing for me for years. I want you to play for the world.”

I just want to play for you.“I—”

And at that moment Matty stalked in. “You done yet?” he asked, rolling his eyes. “Oh my God—Seth! We’re going to miss the bus!”

Kelly’s eyes got intense for a moment, and Seth could practically hear him thinking,Not my brother. Not now.Seth looked away and started packing up. “I’m sorry, Mr. Pantalone. This is the day Matty has soccer. We’ve got to hurry!”

Mr. Pantalone gave Seth the same steely-eyed, resolved look that Dr. Boyle had given him when he insisted that Seth couldtooplay that concerto, even if it killed him. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Seth. You too, Mooncalf. This isn’t over yet!”

Kelly rolled his eyes. “I don’t even have this class. What makes you think—”

But Mr. Pantalone cut him off with a quick shake of the head. “Tomorrow, Mooncalf. Not now.”

“Whatever. Let’s hurry. Matty’ll be foul if he misses his damned game!”

Together they hustled through the school and toward the bus stop, catching up with Matty as he stood in front of the bench.

“What was that all about?” he asked, only mildly interested. His soccer team had made it to the District Cup this year. The indoor game they had that night was to practice for the outdoor game right before Christmas vacation.

“They’re offering Seth a scholarship to a fancy school,” Kelly said excitedly. “It’s like, a bridge between high school and college, and it’s made for performers, like Seth.”

“And artists,” Seth said loyally. To his dismay, Kelly’s mouth twisted.

“I’m good, Seth, but I’m not ‘here’s the world on a silver platter’ good. He was using me as bait. ‘Here, come see your friend, he can come too.’”

Seth grunted. “That’s low.” Mr. Pantalone didn’t look so pretty anymore.