My fingers rested lightly on the keys. The keys I've played almost my whole life. The melody played itself through my mind. My index finger pressed down and instantly the note clicked with my mind. The rest of my fingers joined in until a wonderous sonata formed its way out of the piano. And as quickly as it started, it stopped. I released the breath I was holding in as my hands wandered to my lap. One second…two seconds…then, applause. My lips took the shape of a smile and a gracefully stood up, even though I was shaking. I did a quick bow as the audience cheered and threw roses at me.

Then, my alarm clock went off.

I squinted my eyes in the early morning light shining through my bedroom window. I swung my arm out from under the blankets as gracefully as an elephant and whacked my alarm clock across the room. It didn't turn off. I could here my step-brother yelling at me from the room over.

"Shut up!" I called back to him.

I dragged my lazy ass out of bed and grogily walked towards the clock, still beeping on the floor. I pressed the button on the top and it immediately turned off.

"Finally," I moaned as I opened my bedroom door. I somehow managed to shuffle my way, without falling, down the hallway into the bathroom. Slamming the door behind me, I flicked on the light switch. After being blinded by stupid CFL bulbs, I opened my eyes to perform my daily surgery before school. I looked in the mirror; not too bad this morning. Aside from the uncanny frizz in my long, straight dark hair, everything else seemed to be in order. Long lashes, check. Light blue eyes, still there. Full lips, a little chapped, but still full. I quickly threw on some dark brown eye shadow and mascara (and some lip gloss for the chapped lips) then strolled back to my bedroom.

A faint knock tapped at my door. "Vienna? You better be up. I don't want to send Everett in there again." Dad. My workaholic father who's only purposes in life are to drive us to school, go to work and order take out dinner. Everett, my troll of a brother exists to annoy me until my brain melts. (It's almost at that point.) He attends middle school (Thankfully) while I go to the War Zone a.k.a, high school. I am currently working my way up the food chain, presently a sophomore. Today was our first day back after winter break.

"Yeah, Dad. I'm just getting dressed," I sighed. Please Dad, could you be any more nosy?

"That's my girl." I heard his footsteps trail off, giving my the sign that he was down stairs. Either that, or he was abducted by ninjas. I sighed again. God, why was I so tired? I pulled a pair of jeans out of my closet and a t shirt, nothing special. Grabbing my backpack off the floor, I opened the door and sprinted down the starirs into the kitchen.

The kitchen is one of the smallest rooms in our house, consisting of a table with two chairs,an oven, a sink, a refrigerator and a few small cabinets. The Troll was already eating his daily bowl of Frosted Flakes while my dad was in the other room packing his brief case. Dad happened to be an interior designer, which I surprisingly what I want to have as my job. That or a pianist, but piano is more of a hobby, not a job. I popped a slice of white bread into the toaster and in a few minutes, it came out, extra burnt, just the way I like it. I slapped on a bucketload of butter and hustled my way out the door, slipping my coat on as I made my way to our black Lexus. Everett and Dad briskly emerged from the house and to the car, just as I was finishing my toast.

"Vienna, you know there's no eating in my work car."

"It's our only car," I said through a mouth full of toast. All I needed in life was more comments about what I do wrong. I don't do anything right.

Except play piano.