The Price of Prestige

                                                       The Price of Prestige
                                                   Adapted by: M.R. Anglin
                                                 Original story by: Tazia Hall

     A lilting tune drifted out of an open window of the West mansion, past its gates, and into the street. A young mink and her otter friend paused to listen to its crescendo and smiled and swayed to the melody. Passersby often heard this and other tunes gliding through the air when Iris West, the eight year old daughter of Professor and Lenoir West, practiced her piano playing. With a giggle and a glance at the mansion, the two companions continued down the sidewalk, telling each other of how wonderful it must be to live amongst all that luxury.

      Inside the mansion, a fox kit sat at the piano, hands gliding across the keys with the ease that came with too much practice. Rather than pound each key and demand the note to come forth, her fingers tickled them, coaxing the desired tone out of the instrument. The result was music that filled the mind with images of flowers and waterfalls and endless meadows.

      But Iris wasn’t paying attention to what she was doing. She had played this song so many times that she felt that she could do it in her sleep. Her feet dangled off the piano bench and, because they did not reach the pedals, she was limited to songs that did not use them. So instead of watching her lavender furred hands glide across the keyboard or reading the sheet music sitting in front of her, she allowed her blue eyes to wander out of the window, beyond the iron gates with the “W” worked into them, and traveled to the park where other children played. Her cornflower hair was not neatly pulled back into two braided pigtails, but flowing free while she ran to chase a ball. She wouldn’t be good at the game at first, but with practice she would master it, and that would be better than sitting alone in front of this piano. It would even be worth getting her pink dress dirty.

     “Ms. West!”

     Iris jumped, making her hands smack the keys and causing a cacophonous noise. “Huh?”

     “Pay attention,” her tutor said. He was a great horned owl and had the motley brown feathers common to his species. His spectacles were as large as his face and magnified his eyes to twice their size.

     Iris took a deep breath, vaguely picking out the scent of roses from the garden, and let it out in a sigh. “Can I go now?”

     Her tutor stared at her over his glasses.

     “I mean, may I go now?”

     He looked at his watch and made the hooting noise he always did when thinking. “I suppose an hour’s practice is enough for now. You played very well, Iris . . . despite your distraction.”

     Iris turned on her piano stool to face him and rested her feet on the foot rest. “Where’s mommy?”

     “Sudden business trip, I believe.”

     “And daddy?”

     “The same.”

     Iris hung her head, allowing one of her braids to fall over her shoulder. “They’re always gone.” She eased off the stool and her black dress shoes hit the tile floor with a clop. “I’m going for a walk.”

     She walked across the room, listening to the clop, clop of her footsteps. They were soon joined by a louder, heavier thump, thump. Without looking she knew that Mr. Miles, her bodyguard, had fallen into step behind her. He had followed her around most of her life, and now she felt weird if she didn’t hear his footsteps behind her or feel his presence beside her.

     She hopped down the front steps, walked through the rose garden, out of the gate, and paced down the sidewalk with her head hung low, watching her shadow in front of her. Mr. Miles’ shadow was much longer and bigger than hers. He was five feet taller than she and wore a black suit and sunglasses. His brown fur was thick and coarse, and had she looked she would have been able to see his muscles showing beneath his suit. He kept his hands clasped behind his back and walked with a purposeful, heavy thump. Iris felt safe with the grizzly bear—she had to. That was his job.

     The sound of children playing came to her ears, and she wished she could join them. She heaved her shoulders in a sigh. “Mr. Miles, why can’t I go to a normal school and have real friends? I’m tired of home schooling. It’s lonely.”

     “Your mother wants you to have the best education.”

     “But there are plenty of good schools out there!” Iris protested, looking into his face. “I looked on the computer. I checked.”

     “It goes far deeper than that, Ms. Iris.” Mr. Miles looked down at her, and she could see his eyes searching her face even through the sunglasses. “You know how important your parents are. Your father is the leading scientist in cursor research and your mother, the CEO of Star Holographics. You can’t just go to a public institution by yourself. All sorts of degenerates and thugs may try to kidnap you in order to get to your parents. Why else do you think I’m around?”

     Iris let her eyes fall to the ground. She pulled one of her braids in front of her and played with the ends. So what if her parents were important? They were gone half the time anyway. They got to go wherever they wanted while she was stuck inside all the time. They didn’t have to live alone with no one to play with. “It’s not fair.” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes. “I didn’t ask to be born into this family.”

     “Ms. Iris, you should at least be grateful. Not everyone will have the same opportunities as you. You’re much more fortunate than a lot of people—“

     “It’s still not fair!” She burst into tears and darted down the street to an empty bench where she plopped down and sobbed with her face in her hands. The sound of Mr. Miles’ footsteps came to her ears, and she felt the bench shift as he sat.  She peeked at him through her hands.

     His sunglasses were in his hands and he played with their arms while his brown eyes looked down at her face. “I know it must be hard on you, Ms. Iris, but one day you’ll understand.”

     Iris doubted it but lay her head on his shoulders and let her tears fall onto his suit.

     A flock of pigeons, probably startled by a cat, fluttered into the sky. Iris watched them disappear into the heavens and imagined that she had sprouted wings and so that she could fly away with them.

© 2007 M.R. Anglin. Characters and original story © ?-2008 Tazia Hall. Do not copy or redistribute.