Novels by Charlieppp

Sixty seconds is a very long time when your whole heart is hanging over the water.On the giant screen above Tokyo Dome, the countdown glowed in red numbers. Fifty-two. Fifty-one. Fifty. Fifty thousand people held their breath. Nobody coughed. Nobody moved. Even the glowing sticks in the crowd seemed to stop swaying.Charles sat behind his three buckets with his sticks raised. His hands would not stop shaking.On the screen, the wrapper swung in the wind. His mother had washed that cloth a thousand times in a cold river. She had wrapped him in it when he was a baby. She had wrapped it around his first drum, on the day he learned his first beat. Now it hung from a stranger's fingers above the black sea.Forty. Thirty-nine. Thirty-eight."Play, Charles," a voice whispered from the wings. It was Sophia. Tears were running down her face. "Please, teacher. Play."He did not answer. He looked at the screen, and he looked at the empty space beside his buckets where the paint tin should have

The private jet landed in Tokyo on a gray, drizzling afternoon.Charles pressed his forehead against the window and watched the rain slide down the glass. It was soft rain, like the rain in his small town, the rain that had stopped on the morning he first sat in the alley with his buckets. For a moment, he could almost smell the wet earth."Teacher, you are smiling at the rain," Sophia said, leaning over his shoulder."It reminds me of home.""Everything reminds you of home.""Yes," Charles said. "That is why I never get lost."The jet door opened, and the noise rolled in like a wave. Behind the airport barriers stood thousands of people holding umbrellas and handmade signs. BUCKET BOY! CHARLES-SAN! HEARTBEAT! Some children carried plastic buckets and beat them with chopsticks.When Charles appeared at the top of the stairs, the whole crowd bowed at once, then burst into cheers.Charles bowed back, deeply, the way Master Li had taught him on the flight. His hands trembled. In America,

The next morning, New York City was buzzing. On every big screen in Times Square, on every TV channel, the same poster glowed.BUCKET BOY LIVE! MADISON SQUARE GARDEN! TONIGHT 8PM! 20,000 TICKETS SOLD OUT! WITH SPECIAL GUESTS: MICHAEL WILLIAMS & DAUGHTER!Charles stood in front of his guest room mirror in the Williams Mansion. He was wearing a brand new black suit that Mr. Ade, the billionaire sponsor, bought for him. Five thousand dollars suit. Shining shoes. His hair was cut fresh.But in his hands, he held his old bucket bag with three buckets, one paint tin, and two guava sticks. And inside the bag, his mother's photo.He looked at himself in the mirror. Half rich international star, half small town bucket boy.There was a knock on his door."Teacher? Are you ready? Twenty thousand people are waiting!" It was Sophia, wearing a beautiful red dress for the concert. She was no longer the rude girl who hated drums. She was now his drummer student and sister."Yes, Rich Girl. Ready," Ch

The garden of the Williams Mansion was silent. Everyone was crying, but it was happy crying.Sophia Williams was still hugging her father, Michael Williams, tightly. She did not want to let him go, as if he would disappear again if she let go."Dad, you really came back? You will not leave again?" she whispered, tears on her gold birthday dress."I will never leave again, my princess. I promise. Two years ago I made the biggest mistake of my life. I chose a world tour over my family. I thought money and fame would make you proud of me. But yesterday I saw your video. You playing Heartbeat on buckets in the garden. And I understood. You do not need money. You need your father. I am home now. For good," Michael said, crying and hugging her tighter.Mr. Williams, Sophia's stepfather who raised her for two years, stood there with Mrs. Williams. His eyes were red, but he smiled. He was a good man. He walked forward and shook Michael's hand."Michael, welcome home. Sophia waited every night

The next morning, the Williams Mansion was very quiet.It was six o'clock AM. The sun was just rising over New York City. The maids had not yet started work. Mr. Williams was still sleeping in his big bedroom.But in the kitchen, there was already noise.Charles was awake. He was wearing his simple old shirt and shorts, not the expensive designer clothes on his guest room bed. He was standing near the big kitchen sink, which was full of dirty plates from last night's birthday party.One hundred plates, one hundred spoons, one hundred glasses. The maids left them there last night because they were too tired.Charles started washing them, one by one, with soap and water. He remembered his small town. He remembered washing plates in Grace's father's restaurant for one plate of rice. He remembered what Grace's father taught him."Washing plates teaches your hands to be humble. Humble hands play better drums."At six fifteen, Sophia Williams came downstairs. She was wearing expensive pink

The Williams Mansion was bigger than Charles's entire small town school.The floor was white marble that shined like mirror. The stairs were made of glass. There were paintings on the wall that cost more than his fifty thousand dollars prize. A big chandelier hung from the ceiling with a thousand small lights.Charles stood at the entrance, holding his old bucket bag, afraid to step inside because his slippers were dusty.A butler in black uniform took his bag quickly."Sir, let me clean your... luggage," the butler said, looking at the buckets."No, sir! Please! Do not take it! It stays with me!" Charles held the bag tighter.Sophia Williams walked past him without looking. She went straight upstairs to her pink bedroom and slammed the door. Loud bang!Mr. Williams sighed. "Charles, do not worry about my daughter. Her father left us two years ago. He was the best drummer in America. Since then, she hates all drums. Your room is upstairs, first door on the left. Dinner is at seven PM.