Lots of giggling, talking freshmen surrounded me in the auditorium. Good kids, basically, but inconsiderate as freshmen can be. Mine sat quietly in the second row. Next to an odd girl that no one else wanted to associate with.
Lots of pretty but over-done girls wearing ultra short shirts. Mine wore her hair down and just washed and brushed, no make-up, flared knee length skirt, all grey white and black.
Lots of girls singing popular songs. Mine would be the only one to play a classic instrumental solo.
As the time for her to play her violin drew near, weirdly, a panic climbed from my chest to my throat, threatening to choke me. What if she bombs this, poor thing? What if people laugh at her or think it's odd that she's playing this piece? And the violin? And that she didn't spend hours primping?And that she's not wearing a black mini skirt in size 3T? Do people like her? Is there a strange connection between maternal instinct and high-school survival instinct that conjured this succession of irrational thoughts? Something about the way she was about to make herself vulnerable at a high school talent show reached in and dragged this nonsense out.
She arrived on stage, fussing the way violinists do before they play, due to the touchiness of an instrument that can never be counted upon to stay in tune. It seemed like a long time, too long, too pregnant with possibilities of bad things to happen, until one of her loyal and dear friends called out, "Go Molly!" A round of clapping and whistling flared up briefly. The clapping died as the lights dimmed.
She sat on a lone chair in the middle of the stage, spotlight shining on her blonde head. Her long arm drew the bow across the first note of Meditation from Thais and the atmosphere of the room transformed. You could have heard a pin drop in the audience. She played gorgeously, expressively, causing the strings to whisper and sing and cry. No freshman laughed or talked during this performance. I willed myself to tear my eyes away from her to sneak a peak at the formerly goofing-off kids and noted that all eyes were on her. I took a look in the other direction to see adults swaying, eyes closed...enchanted?
As soon as her arm stilled with the whispers of the last note fading, the audience erupted into whistling and clapping and shouts of her name. She flashed a pleased grin, stood, and disappeared behind the curtain.
Beautiful.
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