Chapter 9 #2
I walk down the aisle to the stage with trembling knees.
I have no confidence in myself whatsoever.
Everyone here is better than the previous person, as if there's truly no limit to how talented they all are.
Those kids have had private teachers, own expensive, quality violins, and clearly have an advantage over me.
I sit in the only seat in front of Miss Rivera and look at the sheet music we've all learned over the summer. Or at least for the violins. Every instrument had a piece. Ours was the first minute of Vivaldi sonata D major RV 10: II allegro moderato.
I tune my violin in thirty seconds, and the anxiety eats me alive as I know they're all about to see how weird I am. That I'm going to be judged, probably put in a corner of the orchestra and be sent strange looks for the rest of the year.
Mrs. Oakes must be aware of my little peculiarity, but our conductor looks at me with no expectation or anticipation, just a bored gaze over reading glasses. I don't think she's been told.
She's a Filipino woman in her fifties and has worked with some of the biggest orchestras in the world. She was the conductor for the Los Angeles Philharmonic for ten years, yet she’s probably never seen what I'm about to show her. What she might hate me for.
I put on my shoulder rest, my violin, and place my chin on the chin rest. Finally, I look up, only to be faced with a conductor with eyebrows pulled so high I'm worried she's going to fall backward.
I hear a few laughs around me, whispers that I have no idea what I'm doing, but I don't look at anyone but her.
Either she'll go along with it, or she'll kick me out. Not to be bothered with me.
She digs her eyes into mine, the tiniest smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, and finally, she relaxes. Her arms go up, and my eyes drop to the sheet I know by heart and back to her. Then, I follow her start.
The entire room disappears.
My anxiety vanishes into nothingness.
And I fly into a different dimension.
For an entire minute, I move through what feels like absolute bliss.
Nothing in my body trembles. My heart isn't heavy. My stomach doesn’t twist. This is the only place I feel safe.
When I have my violin on my right shoulder and hear the music playing in my ear.
Sometimes, I don't even feel like I'm the one playing, dissociating and simply experiencing the vibrations and music within my body.
It's over too quickly.
The room comes back, the lights too bright, and my breath catches in my throat as I watch Achilles slowly approach me with a poised smile. Miss Rivera doesn't make a big deal out of it, simply looking at the number Achilles writes down. Mrs. Oakes is already calling the next name.
"You surprised me, Nyx," Achilles murmurs to me.
"That never happens." He looks at my violin as he presses the Post-it note on my uniform shirt.
He leaves his hand on the swell of my breast for a few seconds too long.
"Playing the violin on the wrong shoulder, with the wrong hand…
you're dying to keep me interested, aren't you? "
Having his interest was something I day-dreamed about while looking at online pictures of him not so long ago. After Friday, I’m aware it’s not the fairy-tale-like version I had in mind.
Swallowing roughly, I stand up, even though he hasn't retreated yet. I feel like this is taking forever, and I need to get out of the way. The next girl arrives at the seat, and I start walking off stage, not without Achilles putting his hand at my lower back as he guides me toward the other students who’ve already played.
He stays quiet, but I can feel everyone's eyes burning into me.
I can only breathe when he finally lets me go.
But something still feels off, and when I look at the audience, I notice the woman with a cast glaring at me.
Evelyn. The girl who was in Achilles's room on Friday night during the party. That's when she must have hurt herself.
"Don't mind her," he whispers in my ear. "She's a competitive person. And you just stole everyone's attention with your little trick. Especially mine."
I know this isn't a good thing. A psychopath's attention? A jealous soloist who usually sleeps with the prodigy. And an entire orchestra that’s now one step closer to discovering my weakness?
This is a recipe for a fucking disaster.
And yet…there’s still that tiny part of me that comes alive when Achilles talks to me. One I can’t control, no matter how much I want to.
The rest of the day goes by in a blur. Once I've played and I'm in my safe space, even Achilles's attention can't get me out of my focus.
I end up being one of the first violins.
I'm put in the third row, all the way to the left of my group so I don't bother my peers with the way I hold my violin.
I also have a perfect view of the concertmaster in the first seat, and in my case, that's incredibly helpful.
They announce the soloist last, and I get excited when I see Josh walking to the front and shaking Miss Rivera's hand. What it must feel like to get that.
A spike of envy and admiration runs through me as I pack my instrument, and I startle when Josh appears in my eyesight.
"So…" he hesitates, gripping his case. "You're one of a kind."
A weird snort escapes me, incapable of taking a compliment, or whatever this is.
"Says the soloist."
"Anyone can be the soloist when the best player breaks her wrist."
I grab my case and start walking with him. "Sounds suspicious. Did you push her down the stairs?"
He laughs heartedly, his green eyes bright with amusement. He's got big dimples on his cheeks, and it gives him an air of innocence.
"Just don't tell anyone," he jokes, miming zipping his lips.
We exit the concert hall, walking the old hallways of the building.
The same stones polished by thousands of students over the years.
Crossing the woods leading to the castle, the main building, we use the time to share our personal stories about music.
When we started, our favorite concertos to play, and what our biggest dreams are.
"The New York Philharmonic?" he says, faking shock.
"I know, I know." I chuckle. "I'm, like, the basic bitch version of a violinist. But come on, who wouldn't dream of that?"
"You're certainly not basic," he adds a little more seriously. "I've never met a violinist who plays left-handed. That's crazy, Nyx. I'm assuming you changed the strings yourself. What about the rest? The bass bar?"
I shake my head, knowing where this is going. "Nothing inside is changed; that's why I sound a bit…terrible compared to everyone else. I had a real left-handed violin someone gifted me a long time ago. Custom made. But it was stolen."
"Why don't you just play right-handed? I'm a leftie, and I do. We all do."
My face falls, and he must see it because he puts a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
"Or don't. I was just being nosy." He's quick to change the topic, and I'm grateful for that. "We don't have anything else for the day. Do you want to grab a coffee?"
We're by the castle now. This school will never cease to amaze me. The red bricks, the white arches, the old oak doors. I'm desperate to go inside with him and stay in this magical place.
"I can't, sorry. My boyfriend is picking me up, and he's on his way." I smile apologetically.
He doesn't take the fact that I have a boyfriend as rejection, which reassures me.
He wants to be friends, and I need someone like that in our class.
It means that I belong here. Deep down, I can't deny that it makes me feel like I matter if our orchestra soloist finds me interesting enough to be my friend.
"No worries. Give me your number, and we'll arrange it for another time."
I pull out my phone and give it to him. Once he takes my phone number, he sends himself a text right away.
"I'll walk you to the visitors’ parking. Where does your boyfriend study?"
"Oh." I laugh a little, imagining Chase taking down notes in a lecture hall. "He doesn't go to college." As far as I know, he didn't go to high school.
"I see. Do you live with him, then? Is that why you don't live on campus?"
I try to hide a mocking smile when I answer. "You're right. You really are nosy."
His deeply dark skin complexion doesn't really redden, but I can see the embarrassment on his face.
"I'm so sorry," he blurts out. "I'm just a chatty guy. I make conversation by asking a lot of questions because I'm terrified of silence."
I explode in a laugh, tapping his biceps. "No stress. I was just joking. Actually, I don't live on campus because I can't afford it. Hell, I can't even afford a parking permit here. I live at home. On the North Shore."
His lips part, his eyes opening a little wider, and for a second, I'm scared I made a huge mistake by telling him the truth.
It's easy to read people with the movements their mouths make.
A little pinch, a slight parting, the trembling when you try to hold a smile.
Or even that slight pause before a lie. I think Josh is just surprised someone as poor as me is going to SFU.
He's not judging me. But I could be wrong.
Like I was wrong to let Achilles convince me to stay in his room on Friday.
"Nyx," he says. "You really are amazing for studying here coming from the North Shore. I told you, you're special."
My body relaxes just as I hear someone park near us. I recognize Chase's car and instinctively take a step back away from my new friend.
"I'll see you in class tomorrow."
I head toward the car, but the driver's door opens and Chase comes out.
"Hey—" I attempt. Striding to me, he only stops when he's got a hand wrapped around my jaw.
His lips crash into mine, and I almost stumble back.
I don't get to turn back to check if Josh saw what just happened. I'm pretty sure he did. We walk to Chase's car with his fingers firmly holding my upper arm like I'm some sort of toddler he has to control.
"What's wrong with you?" I rush out, my heart racing.
"Did you ask me to pick you up so I could see you flirting with other guys?" he seethes. "Is that your little revenge because you didn't know where I was all weekend?"
"I wasn't—"
"Get in the fucking car, Nyx."
I hurry to get in. The last thing I want is to make a scene.
"Please, calm down," I pacify him. I don't need my boyfriend shouting at me in front of everyone. "He's part of the orch—"
"So which one are you replacing me with, huh? Who's your rich Prince Charming?"
"Which one?" I repeat, completely confused.
His eyes dart to the mirror, and I do the same on my side. Achilles is standing next to Josh in his hoodie and jeans, talking to him with his eyes on the car.
What the hell?
Josh takes out his phone and shows it to Achilles.
"I don't…I don't know what's happening," I admit.
A smack on the dashboard makes me jump in my seat. "What the fuck are you looking at? Missing your boyfriends already?"
"Please, calm down. I was just trying to make friends."
He starts the car, ignoring my words, and decides to give me the silent treatment.
The only noise I hear is a vibration in my bag, and I take out my phone to see a text from an unknown number.
Unknown: Tell me. Does that boyfriend of yours scare you?