The Mindreader's Classmate

Three

Warmth blossoms inside my chest and I get up to smother him in a hug. Rodri's like a dad and a best friend rolled into one and he's hands down my favorite person in the world.

"I'll be ok but thanks," I say and he laughs, smoothing a hand down my hair.

My brother's patience runs out five seconds later and he's pulling me away by the back of my shirt like I'm some clingy kitten who won't stop misbehaving.

"Stop acting like a needy brat," Árpi complains but what he really means is Stop hogging his attention.

Two pink spots appear on his cheeks when I smirk. Not a word or I'll poison your food. As if Rodrigo doesn't know exactly how clingy he can get. I make a "my lips are sealed" gesture then settle back at the table, slapping its surface to demand nourishment.

Lil shit, Árpi thinks but there's no heat behind it as he serves me an omelet and not French toast. Rodrigo rolls his eyes at us with a fond smile as he occupies the chair to my right. As usual, he gets a larger serving. And as usual, he tries to refuse.

My brother's answer is the same as always: "You have a long night, you need to eat."

Rodrigo was a bartender in the neighboring town's gay club since he was eighteen. Two years ago, his boss admitted to wanting to sell the place so she could follow her fiancée to Germany. When he told my brother this, Árpi asked him – with a seriousness I've seldom witnessed – if he wanted to buy the club. They did. He's been working longer hours ever since but we've never seen him more radiant. And what makes Rodrigo happy, makes the Varga siblings happy.

💭 💭

Árpi and Rodri snuggle up together on the couch after dinner. Rodrigo's the kind of person that gets sleepy after a meal so we eat early to allow him to get in a nap before work. (And so my brother can leech off a little extra affection.)

I toss my backpack next to my desk and take the violin case from my armchair. It's an older model the color of sour cherries and shaped like the instrument itself. A couple of stickers that have now faded to black patches stain the topside. I open the latches and flip the case open with the gentleness others would reserve for ancient documents that might crumple in your hands otherwise. Inside it sits my greatest treasure and what I consider my family's heirloom despite it having belonged to only a single person before me.

I run a finger down the dark wood before picking the violin up and fixing the shoulder rest to the back. Next comes the bow, which could use a rehairing sometime soon. I'm not a superstitious person or anything but over the last few years, I've taken to tuning my violin every morning before leaving for school. It helps me prepare for the noise of the world. A quick check reassures me it held.

I grab the music stand next and flip open the score I left there yesterday; a collection of pieces from several composers my brother got me when I was eight so I'd "stop bumming shit off the internet". I'd been too inexperienced back then to be able to play anything out of it but nowadays, they've become almost easy.

I'm no prodigy by any means nor am I an aspiring professional but I love to play. The violin is a beautiful instrument capable of magnificent sounds (once you've passed the cat-yowling beginner stage). More importantly, it's the only connection I have left to my mother. She died of complications after I was born so I never got to meet her. But whenever I play, I feel like she's there with me. The strings might've been changed and the bridge might be new but I know she tucked this same instrument under her chin and used this same bow to play.

According to Árpi, I look a lot like her. The same sharp nose and deep-set eyes. The same small figure with short legs. My hair, though, is a darker brown and I wear it longer than she did. When I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror with my violin, I smile and pretend she's watching me play. Pretend that she approves of me choosing to learn the same instrument and is proud of how good I've gotten over the years.

The first few notes float through my room, a little quiet and a little timid, but grow strong and bold once I find my rhythm. Rodrigo might be sleeping in the living room down the hall but he won't mind; he's always found classical music soothing. Neither will Árpi because the violin will forever remind him of Mom and all the times she played for him when he was little.

💭 💭

"What the f does this mean?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm asking you!"

"Do I look like your science teacher?" Árpi asks as we pore over my chemistry homework.

"Obviously not," I scoff. "But you're the nerd of the household."

"I work in cyber security," he replies tartly.

"I'm aware," I say, just as tartly. "But didn't you have to take a chemistry class in college or something?"

He snorts and his lips tip up in a smirk. "Bold of you to assume I didn't sleep through it."

"Oh, don't worry, my expectations were low from the start. I just figured you'd like to prove me wrong and make yourself useful for once."

The flick he delivers to my forehead is hard enough to bring tears to my eyes.

"I'm going to sue," I threaten, rubbing the sore spot. My eyes narrow when all he does is smirk again.

Árpi pushes the notebook back to me like it personally offended him. "Listen, kid," I wish I could but  "I can't help you," You should ask Natalie, she's a smart one. "Go bother your friends. Isn't one of them a genius or something?"

We share a long look before I say, "It'd be a lot easier if I didn't always have to pick through what you think and what you say."

Árpi drapes an arm over the back of his chair. Mayhaps you should stay out of my head.

Omfg, he's so lame – who even says mayhaps?

"You're as useful as an appendix," I tell him as I gather my stuff.

How long have you been waiting to throw that one at me?  He thinks as his smile widens.

Two days but I'd rather chew glass shards than admit it out loud so I counter with "I hope you stub your toe," before heading back into my bedroom, ignoring his deep laugh echoing through the apartment.

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Hey guys. So, quick note: Árpád is his full first name, while Árpi is the nickname. (Ending names with i (pron. ee) is something we do a lot. László would become Laci, Zsuzsa - Zsuzsi, etc.)

The approximate pronunciation would be AH R - p ah d and AH R - peeh (Think AH, as in "say ah"). Unfortunately, the wiki link doesn't work (because of the accents, I assume) so I can't add it the way I did with Dotty's name. Sorry about that. :(

On a side note, Árpi and Rodri were supposed to be the parental figures that only appear when they're needed but I've gotten attached so you'll probably see more of them. :p

I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story so far. :D