Prestissimo

pres·tis·si·mo: adj. (music) Very quickly; with great rapidity.

By Miss Matched, who only owns the story line.

Nothing. Shaking her head, thin wisps of black hair touched her face as she thought about it, sheer nothingness. What an absolute waste of precious, finite time. And yet... Sighing she looked out the window. The sky had already turned a deep black, studded with tiny burning embers of stars. The scene swayed in and out of focus before her eyes, so she promptly removed her glasses and rubbed them clean against her purple sweater. She mentally shook herself, "Come on, Phoebe, get your focus back." Returning to the thick, black bound book in front of her was one of the toughest assignments yet.

It was odd, really. Never before had she been so... scatterbrained, so unwilling and un-wanting to study or read. But as of late, she found sitting still, no less concentrating to become more of a task than usual. Instead of studying, she found herself outside, sitting there, just daydreaming... just thinking about nonsensical things. Things that don't even matter. "Nothing"s in the way she normally perceived them. Even her parents had been noticing a difference in her, though they thought it for the better.

"Your mother and I," Kaio Hyerdaul began at dinner that evening, while cutting into his piece of meat loaf, "Have noticed lately that you've been spending less time

up in your room lately."

"We're glad to know that you're doin' more with your friends, darlin'. " Reba smiled as she stirred the gravy on her mashed potatoes. "It's just not healthy for a girl your age to lock herself up in her room like you've been doin'."

Phoebe faked a smile; pleasing her parents did mean a lot to her. "Thank you mother, father. It's nice to know you're happy."

They were happy, sure, but they didn't know what was really going on. Hours and hours of her mind slipping off into fantasies as the dark print of her books merged, resembling deep oceans reflecting back the dark evening sky. Someone held her hand there, in that place, in that state of mind. There was hope, there was happiness... she was worth something there. She wasn't measured by how much she knew, but how deeply she felt her emotions. She shook her head, and the words swam from the deeps, back into focus. "Pay attention!" She commanded herself once more. Letting foolish, girlish thoughts into her mind was only idly wasting space where more important information could be stored. She turned back to her mother's old college music theory textbook. Mr. Simmons was going to teach the class some patriotic songs the next day, and Phoebe wanted to be fully knowledgeable on different aspects of music. Having mastered time and notes, she was reading a chapter on tempos. The words kept swaying in and out of focus as she read. Largo: slow and stately, andante: moderate, allegretto: lively, presto: very fast... her finger traced down the page as she read. The next word caused her to pause. Prestissimo. Very quickly. Rapid. The word alone conjured up visions in her mind, though she quickly pushed them far away.

"It's this room." Phoebe said, changing her train of thought as quickly as possible. "It's too small! How can I even possibly study in such cramped quarters?!" She grabbed her book and her thick woolen jacket, and raced out of the house.

Meanwhile in the family room, Reba just shook her head. "That girl! Always rushin' around!"

_________________________________________

The darkness of the night was like a comforting cloak as she ran. The sky, so expansive, so... infinite. No, she wouldn't be cramped out here. Reading as she walked (a skill she had mastered from an early age), she made her way to the city pond, all while chanting softly to herself. "Andante, allegro, allegretto..." Walking further to a bench between two fine oak trees; "Ritardando, A tempo, piu mosso..." She stopped, then turned her head. A quick rustling of leaves was heard. Ignoring it, she walked further, but the noise persisted. "Prestissimo, prestissimo,prestissimo!"It was her mind playing games on her, that was it. All of these foolish thoughts that had been poisoning her were turning on her, creating this paranoia. All she needed was to sit down... open her book... and just, just get back to normal; the way she'd always been. She made her way to the next bench and sat down, opening her text book and creasing the binding once more. The smell of aged paper wafted up to her, though it didn't bring her joy or satisfaction as it once used to. Eyebrows furrowed, she furiously read through, flipping page by page, yet she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched.

"Late night studying, Phoebs?" A voice said from behind her, "Mmm mmm MMM! You study too much."

Phoebe closed her book and clutched it tightly to herself as she turned around, frightened. A figure loomed behind her, hidden beneath the thick shadows of the trees. He took a step forward, and the moonlight hit his face.

"G-gerald! You had me scared!"

Gerald laughed, "Well, sorry, I didn't mean to." He walked around the bench and sat next to her. "What are you doing out so late? Shouldn't you be studying at home."

"I was... preoccupied at home." She admitted as Gerald slipped the book out of her lap.

"College Music Theory? Phoebs..." He sighed, and scooted closer to her on the bench. "Phoebe, you're amazing, you really are. You're brilliant beyond your years, and everyone respects you for that. But, I don't know, it's just... well, lately it seems you're lookin' for something more." He laughed, "Well, actually Arnold's the one who told me that it seemed like it, but my man's a pretty good judge."

"Something more?" Phoebe repeated. The words sounded foreign as they rolled off her tongue. How could there be anything more than what she had?

Gerald looked down at his folded hands. "There's more to life than books, Phoebe, you know that. Well, at least I'm sure you know it up here," He pointed up to her head, "But do you really see it in here?" His other hand went over his heart. "What happens when you know everything? What happens when every fact in the whole world is memorized and every theory is proved? What's to look forward to then?" Looking into her eyes, he continued, "You're growing up too fast, Phoebe, too... what's that word Arnold uses sometimes..." he fished for it, "Rapidly."

"Prestissimo..." She whispered under her breath, though Gerald couldn't hear.

"It's not right, Phoebe. No one should push themselves to such lengths."

She thought over his words for a few moments. "But, Gerald... I don't want to loose what I have. My schedules, my plans for my future! I don't want to ruin it by slacking off. I've already been turning into some lackadaisical daydreamer."

"I didn't understand what that one word meant," Gerald laughed, "But there's nothing wrong with being a daydreamer. You put so much stress on yourself, you deserve to 'slack off' sometimes. Now, come on Phoebe," he held out his hand. "Let's go somewhere. Anywhere."

She looked back at the book, then at Gerald, his hand out waiting for her to grasp it. Without further hesitation, she accepted his hand. After helping her up with a smile, they walked away, leaving the book on the cold park bench.

A gentle breeze ruffled the pages of the book, opening it to a new page. At the top it read in thick italics "allentando: getting slower".

The End

AN: And to anyone who cares, I'm starting the next chapter of Flawed right now, so don't beat me up.