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CHAPTER TWENTY THREE! ( EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. )
CHARLIE STOOD UP once everyone else had settled down. He had his saxophone out, which Jo knew was one of the places he put a lot of emotional energy. Music was his escape.
"An original song composed by Nuwanda, for Neil," Charlie announced. Jo didn't roll her eyes at the nickname this time, she just smiled and let him have it. Charlie began to play the saxophone, his fingers lightly clicking the golden keys. This song was unlike any other she had heard him play. The music was a sound wave of emotion, one Jo knew he was capable of creating but still left her amazed. When he finished playing Jo just stared at him in awe.
"I didn't know you played," Keating commented. "That was beautiful." Everyone slowly started clapping, all awestruck.
"That was awesome, Charlie!" Knox cheered.
"I still can't believe you can do that," Pitts teased.
Charlie smiled proudly then sat back down beside Jo, not asking for praise but looking at her a little expectantly. Joan smiled and kissed his cheek. "Keating's right, it was beautiful."
"Thanks," he blushed, resuming his position with his arm around her shoulders. "Are you gonna read anything?"
"I think so," she said.
"Well, what are you waiting for? Get up there!" he pushed her upper back lightly.
"Okay, okay," she leaned behind him to grab her leather crossbody bag that she had brought. She pulled out a painted canvas and leaned it against the stone wall at the front of the cave.
It was a portrait of Neil, rich shades of purple and yellow, orange and blue all mixed in to create a vibrant yet realistic painting of the boy.
"No way, did you paint that?" Charlie stood up in disbelief, crouching down in front of the canvas. Jo smiled nervously and looked away as the group all praised her skill. She didn't paint it for attention or compliments, however they were nice to hear considering her father thought art was a waste of time and she could never make a career out of it.
"I was thinking we could leave this painting here, as a tribute to Neil," Jo suggested, hanging it on a protruding rock.
"Of course, it's beautiful Jo," Todd said with a watery smile. Todd then picked up his poem and held it up on the wall beside the painting. "Maybe it could be a whole wall, I've got plenty more poems for him. Besides, it almost makes me feel like he's here too," Todd struggled to say. Jo placed her hand on Todd's shaking one and held it for a moment.
"I think that's a great idea, we'll bring nails and a hammer next time to set it up," she smiled.
Once everyone had taken their seats, Jo pulled a crumpled paper out of her coat pocket, clearing her throat. "This isn't going to be a poetic masterpiece like Todd's, it's more of a feeling than anything else," she started.
