The Reinvention of Moxie Roosevelt by Elizabeth Cody Kimmel

I had been practicing for two days. When I finished, I sighed and looked over at him.
    “Miss Kippah,” Mr. Tate said, “I am extremely pleased that you have chosen to take my advice and leave the issue of finger precision for a later time.”
    I laughed. Only Mr.Tate could turn “Well, you hit plenty of wrong notes” into a compliment.
    “And your trills are coming along. You may not hear it yet, but you are beginning to understand this variation. The tempo is good for you, it will come up to speed on its own, and you will be surprised at how fast you will move without giving the air of being showy.”
    “Liberace lived for showy,” I said with a grin. Mr. Tate had a deep-seated loathing for the now-departed Las Vegas pianist, with his massive ringed fingers and sequin-covered coats.
    “Liberace was about as sharp as a sack of wet mice,” Mr. Tate declared. “All right, then, Miss Kippah. You’ve come a long way in just a few days, and I can tell without asking that you’ve been practicing up a storm. Now let’s get down to business. Break the notes down, starting with this measure here.”
    I lost myself in the notes, seeing them through Mr. Tate’s eyes, and before I knew it, the lesson was over. The lessons were never long enough, but they charged me like solar panels absorbing the sun and kept me going for the whole day.
    I retained my good mood, even through an algebra class that I was certain Mrs. Feeny was conducting in Norwegian. In fact, the only two things at Eaton I was really unhappy with were math and Kate Southington. The sting of her obvious dislike of me gnawed away at all of my personalities, since I didn’t believe I had done anything to deserve it. Part of me still wanted to try to win her over, because the whole situation made me uncomfortable.
    And there was also the lingering specter of the New Student Talent Show, which I was beginning to think of as a horror movie called The Thing That Was Not Funny , starring me.
    I could feel the pressure building, but I’d already spent all morning in the practice rooms. I needed something else. Oh, Fabulous ! I made another stealth run to the school bookstore, which was full of students, most of whom were wearing soccer uniforms. One of them wasn’t, however. I recognized Kate’s strawberry blond ponytail and bony shoulders from the back. Should I pretend I didn’t see her, or once again dip my toe in the icy waters of diplomacy?
    The question answered itself when she turned around with a stack of magazines in her hands.
    The magazine on top was Fabulous .
    Finally—something to bond over!
    “Why, Kate Southington, I’m onto you,” I said cheerfully. “You can’t hide from me.”
    Kate’s head snapped around, and when she caught sight of me she looked positively alarmed.
    I walked right over to her.
    “Don’t worry,” I said, nodding my head toward the magazines. “Your secret is safe with me. I won’t tell a soul how ‘Fabulous’ you really are!”
    Kate’s face had gone red. My jokey dialogue was clearly tanking. But I didn’t understand. It had been funny with Ms. Hay and the Star Trek novels. What was the difference?
    I gave it one more shot.
    “I too share a shameful secret,” I whispered in an overly dramatic voice.
    “Shut up,” Kate snapped.
    “Oh come on, I’m only joking,” I said.
    “Shut. Your. Mouth,” Kate hissed. Then she pushed roughly past me, actually shoving me to one side.
    I stood there for a second, completely stupefied. Was there an instruction manual that came with this girl? Had I somehow missed it? Why did she get bent out of shape over the stupidest things?
    I looked around to see if any of the soccer team had overheard the exchange. Impossible to tell. In any case, I must look like an idiot just standing there. I went over to the magazine section as I’d originally planned. I pretended to scan the titles, though I didn’t register anything. All I did was play the Kate dialogue over and over