Read 13 - Piano Lessons Can Be Murder for Free Online Page A

couldn’t answer them. I was too
tired, too frightened to think clearly.
    I hesitated outside my room, breathing hard.
    Then, holding onto the wall, I gathered my courage and stepped inside.
    As I moved into the darkness, the ghost rose up in front of my bed.

 
 
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    I uttered a choked cry and staggered back into the doorway.
    Then I realized I was staring at my covers. I must have kicked them over the
foot of the bed during my nightmare about Dr. Shreek. They stood in a clump on
the floor.
    My heart pounding, I crept back into the room, grabbed the blanket and sheet,
and pulled them back onto the bed.
    Maybe I am cracking up! I thought.
    No way, I assured myself. I might be scared and frustrated and angry—but I
saw what I saw.
    Shivering, I slid into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. I closed my
eyes and tried to force the picture of the ugly gray skull from my mind.
    When I finally started to drift off to sleep, I heard the piano music start
again.
     
    * * *
     
    Dr. Shreek arrived promptly at two the next afternoon. Mom and Dad were out
in the garage, unpacking more cartons. I took Dr. Shreek’s coat, then led him
into the family room.
    It was a cold, blustery day outside, threatening snow. Dr. Shreek’s cheeks
were pink from the cold. With his white hair and mustache, and round belly under
his baggy, white shirt, he looked more like Santa Claus than ever.
    He rubbed his pudgy hands together to warm them and motioned for me to take a
seat at the piano bench. “Such a beautiful instrument,” he said cheerily,
running a hand over the shiny, black top of the piano. “You are a very lucky
young man to find this waiting for you.”
    “I guess,” I replied without enthusiasm.
    I had slept till eleven, but I was still tired. And I couldn’t shake the
ghost and her warning from my mind.
    “Have you practiced your notes?” Dr. Shreek asked, leaning against the piano,
turning the pages of the music workbook.
    “A little,” I told him.
    “Let me see what you have learned. Here.” He began to place my fingers over
the keys. “Remember? This is where you start.”
    I played a scale.
    “Excellent hands,” Dr. Shreek said, smiling. “Keep repeating it, please.”
    The lesson went well. He kept telling me how good I was, even though I was
just playing notes and a simple scale.
    Maybe I do have some talent, I thought.
    I asked him when I could begin learning some rock riffs.
    He chuckled for some reason. “In due time,” he replied, staring at my hands.
    I heard Mom and Dad come in through the kitchen door. A few seconds later,
Mom appeared in the family room, rubbing the arms of her sweater. “It’s really
getting cold out there,” she said, smiling at Dr. Shreek. “I think it’s going to
snow.”
    “It’s nice and warm in here,” he replied, returning her smile.
    “How’s the lesson going?” Mom asked him.
    “Very well,” Dr. Shreek told her, winking at me. “I think Jerry shows a lot
of promise. I would like him to start taking his lessons at my school.”
    “That’s wonderful!” Mom exclaimed. “Do you really think he has talent?”
    “He has excellent hands,” Dr. Shreek replied.
    Something about the way he said it gave me a cold chill.
    “Do you teach rock music at your school?” I asked.
    He patted my shoulder. “We teach all kinds of music. My school is very large,
and we have many fine instructors. We have students of all ages there. Do you
think you could come after school on Fridays?”
    “That would be fine,” Mom said.
    Dr. Shreek crossed the room and handed my mom a card. “Here is the address of
my school. I’m afraid it is on the other end of town.”
    “No problem,” Mom said, studying the card. “I get off work early on Fridays.
I can drive him.”
    “That will end our lesson for today, Jerry,” Dr. Shreek said. “Practice the
new notes. And I’ll see you Friday.”
    He followed my mom to the living room. I heard them chatting quietly,