The Keeper of Secrets by Julie Thomas

the best part of being a violinist? Then you told me that it was when you discovered what the composer had to say, and that was a very good answer, yes? Now I have another question for you—what is the worst part about being a violinist?”
    Daniel sighed deeply but didn’t respond.
    “The practice? Or the lessons?”
    “No. I like the lessons, I like learning. Practice can be a pain when you have to just stop everything, whatever you’re doing, and do it. But once you start, it’s okay, especially new pieces.”
    Rafael nodded. “So? What is the bit you really don’t like?”
    “They won’t let me play baseball anymore,” Daniel said softly, his gaze focused on the floor.
    “Who won’t?”
    “Mr. D. told Mom and Dad that I might hurt my fingers, so I should just watch. And he’s not even my real teacher.”
    The frustration flared up inside, and he could feel his face going red.
    “And you love it? Playing ball?”
    “More than anything. Dad and I have been going to Wrigley Field for years, and the Cubs are just awesome. I know people rag on them and call them the lovable losers ’cause they haven’t won the World Series for years, but they have great stars. The atmosphere at the field is the best and my friends and I are all fans of the Cubs.”
    Rafael turned to face the stage. He stretched his long legs out, crossed them at the ankles, and locked his hands behind his head. Daniel glanced at him, wondering what he thought about this musical disloyalty, but the man’s face was impassive. The silence sat between them and then finally the conductor sighed.
    “You know, I grew up in a city mad about football—what you Americans call soccer. Everything was Real Madrid or Atlético Madrid. But Real, they were my heroes. I missed them so bad when we moved to New York. And then, you know, I found the Yankees and the Knicks, had to change my sport, but my heart, it is still with Real Madrid.”
    Daniel stared at him in amazement.
    “So you do understand? They said you wouldn’t.”
    “Sure I do. When did they decide this?”
    “Um . . . three weeks ago.”
    “Make you angry?”
    Daniel nodded.
    “Then Richie and his gang jumped me in the forest on my way home from orchestra. They broke my bow and scratched my vio—”
    “My God! No wonder you don’t want to play anymore. Do your parents know about this?”
    Daniel nodded again. “They were really pissed about the bow. Carlos denied it, but Mom threatened to have it tested for fingerprints and they paid up.”
    Rafael smiled. “Well done, Mom.”
    “The violin needs to be resurfaced, but it was my old one, not the Vuillaume from the institute. The guys called me names and stuff, said that I was weird, said only girls and fags played the violin. On the way home I decided to not play anymore. I thought it’d be a real simple solution, just stay home and play ball and be like the others. That’s what I want, to just be normal. But ever since then I’ve been grounded and we argue all the time. I’ve never seen Mom so mad. And they made me come here.”
    Rafael was smiling at him.
    “Well, I admire you, young man. I don’t think I could have stuck to my guns for three weeks, if I was in your position.”
    Daniel grinned, and he felt the knot inside start to relax.
    “Dad says I’m stubborn like her. I figure sometime soon she’s gotta give up and let me play ball.”
    Rafael nodded. “If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?”
    Daniel shrugged. “Guess so.”
    “Forget the baseball for a moment; do you miss playing your violin?”
    “Yep.”
    “Do you miss the music?”
    “Yep.”
    “So, if they let you play ball, will you keep playing the violin too?”
    “I guess, maybe, if I’m allowed to play real games, with the boys.”
    Rafael waited a moment before continuing and Daniel couldn’t help wondering where this was going and if maybe he’d found his solution.
    “When I was young, my mamá wanted me to practice