Kanto was distracted while eating his grilled cheese the next morning. The man had said something about not being alone, and Kanto wasn’t sure what that meant. Maybe other aliens in the universe? Or on the world? Or maybe he just meant that there were other people in the library, or he was talking about Wendy.
Whatever it was, it seemed like a secret. Secrets were fine, but they just made him feel more alone.
Later that day, when he was dancing with Wendy, he remembered the second thing the man said. He needed a violin, for music. Kanto liked music – quite a bit, in fact – but there were no violins in the music he’d ever heard. It wasn’t like the guitar, which he would dance along to when Wendy played, and which calmed him considerably when he felt bad, and which made him feel like he could dance on air when he heard it played well, played the way Wendy played it. But it wasn’t supposed to be the guitar; for some reason, the violin was important.
He twisted that over in his mind. The man was homeless. He wasn’t even wearing shoes. But he had seemed so worried. It felt deeply unsettling.
He brought the idea up with Wendy later that afternoon.
“A violin? Why don’t I get you a guitar instead? Or some drums?” she asked.
“I think it’s got to be a violin,” Kanto said.
“Is it because of that man yesterday?” Wendy asked.
“Kind of,” Kanto said.
“Well, okay, but I don’t know why you don’t want a guitar,” Wendy said. “Yellowcard has a violin player, I guess, but Kanto, I only have that music because my sister thought I’d like it, it’s not great. What about the drums? Drums are a great instrument. Think about how you could stay up late playing them and waking the neighbors?”
“No, I want a violin,” Kanto said, because being told that he couldn’t have them was the best reason he could think of to get them.
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