Chapter Five Bonnie

Chapter Five

Bonnie

The class was buzzing. Last year, there had never been energy like this. The class was small, but I could feel everyone’s excitement as if I was standing in the center of a packed stadium.

My friend Bryce leaned over. “Weird, huh? How a professor can cause this much hype.”

He wasn’t just any professor though. Professor Lewis was a world-renowned composer. He’d traveled the world. Performed in concert halls and theaters that someone like me could only dream of. His personal struggles with drugs and alcohol were widely known. It’s what had taken him from his life’s work and back to Jefferson. His hometown. In an interview with the school paper, he’d said that he needed to be grounded in the place he knew best. Wanted to give back to his local community by taking tenure here.

The music world’s loss was our gain.

I tapped my pen in a seesaw motion on my open notebook. The door opened, and a man I’d seen countless times on TV walked through. The room was silent as he walked to the table at the front of the classroom. He was young. Younger in person than I’d expected. He had dark hair and a kind smile.

He had just opened his mouth to speak when the door opened again and a tall, heavily tattooed frame walked through.

Cromwell.

If Professor Lewis’s entrance had inspired silence and awe, Cromwell Dean’s entrance brought hushed whispers and fifteen sets of curious eyes fixed on him as he walked, head down, toward the back seats.

He walked slowly up the stairs and sat near the back. I didn’t turn like everyone else. I looked at Professor Lewis, noting the lines of annoyance on his forehead.

Lewis cleared his throat. “Mr. Dean. Nice of you to join us.”

This time I did glance back at Cromwell. Just to see if he had any hint of remorse . He was slouching in his seat, staring blankly at Lewis. He looked the epitome of arrogance, rolling his tongue ring against his teeth. He was dressed in black jeans that had a chain hanging from the waist, and a simple white shirt with a low neck and tight short sleeves that gripped his muscled biceps. His tattoos climbed like vines up his arms and neck.

Some people would think them art. I thought they looked like they were strangling him.

His hair was messy and falling over his forehead. He wore silver rings in his ears and a single one through his left nostril.

Just as I was about to turn away, his eyes found mine. The color of his irises was strange. They were a turbulent kind of blue. Not like the blue of the sky but a deep navy like the dangerous depths of a violently thrashing sea. He sighed heavily. I was sure it was at my presence. I hadn’t told him I was majoring in music too.

“Mr. Dean? Can we start?” Lewis asked.

He nodded his head. “I wasn’t stopping you.” My eyes widened at his response.

Cromwell’s English accent was thick and obvious against Lewis’s South Carolinian. As if Cromwell needed one more reason to stand out. His sullenness and tattoos were enough to do that in this small town. I took my sweater from around my chair and put it on. The room suddenly felt chilly.

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” Lewis said as he addressed the class. “I run a tiring program, and I expect y’all to comply and give it your best.” He came to stand in front of his table. He sat back on the tabletop and said, “You should have all read the course syllabus by now. If you have, you’ll know that the largest percentage of the grade comes from a year-long composition project. This will be undertaken in pairs.” He smiled, an uncontained excitement in his brown eyes. I thought I saw him briefly flick his gaze to Cromwell, but I couldn’t be sure.

“I have already picked the pairs.” He reached into his briefcase and held up a piece of paper. “You will see who you’ve been paired with at the end of class. And before you ask, no, the pairings are non-negotiable. And yes, both of you must complete the assignment or risk getting an incomplete. No one wants that on their record.”

He moved back around the desk and clicked on the projector. The TA turned off the lights. “You will each get fifteen hours of one-on-one sessions with me per semester.” He looked over his shoulder, stern-faced. “Don’t waste these hours.”

I looked at Bryce, feeling the blood rushing through my veins. “One-on-one sessions,” I said excitedly, and Bryce smiled wide.

“We’ll have seminars every other week to discuss our compositions, both individual and the one done in pairs. Because the class is all about composition.” Lewis smiled and dropped his hard persona for a moment. “I intend to create artists in this room. You will all know of my personal demons.” I held my breath. Everybody knew about his issues, but I didn’t think he’d actually talk about them in class. “I tried my best to bring my music to the world, but it wasn’t my destiny.” He smiled again, an expression of peace washing over his face. “I’ve found happiness in helping others realize their talents. My fate, it seems, is teaching. Helping others find their meaning in this world. Their passion.”

A soft silence enveloped the room. I blinked, realizing my heart was full and so were my eyes.

“There’ll be a showcase at the end of the year. Your compositions will be performed then.” He stood and put his hands in his slacks pockets. “What I failed to learn in my time as a composer is to lean on others. Share ideas and push one another to make your art the very best it can be.” He pointed at the class. “Y’all are here because you are talented. But news flash: so are millions of other people. This project will help you learn from one another and improve your craft. It’s the assignment I’m most intrigued by.”

Professor Lewis turned back to the projector screen and finished talking through the rest of the course requirements. When the talk was done, he said, “Class dismissed. I suggest you find out who your composition partner is and go for a coffee or something. Use your time wisely. Get to know your partner well.” He smirked. “You’ll be spending a lot of time with them this year.”

Students piled to the front to check the paper the TA had pinned on the wall. Others introduced themselves to Lewis. Bryce checked his name then walked across to Tommy Wilder. I frowned. Bryce and I normally worked together. He came over and shook his head. “Dream team’s getting split up this time, Bonn.”

My heart sank a little. I saw in Bryce’s expression that he was disappointed too. I was comfortable with Bryce. He wasn’t the most talented. But he was sweet. I knew he liked me as more than a friend, and I would never go there with him. But he was comfortable for me to be around. He didn’t ask too many personal questions.

I waited for the crowd to clear. A few people looked at me before they walked away. I wondered why. But when I read the list, I had my answer.

I exhaled a long, slow breath. I stared disbelievingly at Cromwell Dean’s name next to mine.

When I turned around, only Professor Lewis remained in the room. “Bonnie Farraday, I presume?” He was holding his register with my student picture next to my name.

“Yes, sir.” I bit my lip. “I know you said there would be no switching of partners for the project—”

“I did. And I meant it.”

My stomach dropped. “Okay.” I turned to leave.

“You’re the top of the class, Bonnie,” Lewis said. “Cromwell is brand new to the college.” He sat down on the edge of the table beside me. This close, I could see a smattering of gray in his dark hair. I guessed he was in his forties. “He was top of his classes in the UK. He is bright and extremely talented. But being a new student in a new college can be daunting for anyone. No matter how unaffected they appear.” He folded his arms over his chest. “I was told by the faculty that you were a good choice to team him up with.”

“Yes, sir,” I replied again. For once I hated that the faculty regarded me as someone reliable and conscientious.

Just as I was about to leave, I said, “Welcome back to Jefferson, Professor. You’ve been a real inspiration to many of us here.”

He smiled then turned back to his work.

I left, checking the hallway for any sign of Cromwell. I sighed when there was none. He had fled the room without even checking the board. I bet he didn’t know I was his partner.

Drained of all energy, I leaned back against the wall. I had two free periods, and I was making it my mission to find him.

I was determined. I wouldn’t let his bad attitude be my demise. If I had to work with him, I would. But nothing about this partnership made me think it would go well.

Absolutely nothing.