Melodies
Chapter 13: Sydney
Kell made it back to the library after about half an hour. He didn't say much, and he looked spacey and upset throughout English and enrichment.
Once in orchestra, he seemed to rediscover his focus. He tuned and played through his warm-ups before starting to rehearse his part for the duet.
I ran through a scale after tuning, not entirely worried about warming up. I started plucking through my music, trying to make the high notes not sound like shit. It wasn't working.
Mr. Kitching started class eventually. Attendance always takes a while, because the class is so big and everyone's moving around and talking. He took us through a few scales and a rhythm exercise, and then dismissed those of us doing solos and duets to use practice rooms.
Kell and I took the room at the far end of the art wing, shutting the door behind us. I set my music on a stand and held my violin at my shoulder, ready to get into position or to just stand for a minute.
Kell spread his music out on the stand right by mine, gripping his instrument tightly. I couldn't help but notice how much tension was shown on his face.
He rested his viola on his shoulder, holding it and looking at me. "Are we just going until we can't?"
"Sure." I got ready and let him count off and lead us.
I fumbled a few places, but we made it nearly 15 measures through when he messed up badly enough to lose his place. It looked like a really high shift, so I didn't blame him for getting mixed up.
He apologized, blushing and starting us over at that measure. The second time through, he played through it steadily, his fingers sliding gracefully on the fingerboard. We made it nearly to the B section when he had to shift down, and he played a flat instead of a natural. He stopped suddenly at that, pausing to check his strings.
He touched the tuning peg for his D string, adjusting it tightly, and his bridge snapped out from under the strings, making both of us jump. He reached out to hold his bridge, staring at his viola in disbelief.
I couldn't help but laugh a little. "I'm sorry, that caught me off-guard."
He sighed, smiling a little, but not looking like he meant it. "I guess it just isn't my day." He looked into the f-holes, making sure everything else was okay. "God dammit, the support snapped. This whole thing is going to fall apart. I'll have to get a new rental, and I won't have anything to use for a week."
"Are there any school violas?"
"There would be, if Hannah hadn't left the one she borrowed at home."
I winced. "Sorry, that sucks."
He nodded. "Yeah. But I guess I'll just have to deal with it."
He was almost convincing me that this wasn't a big deal, but his cheeks were darkening, and his voice was cracking a little.
"Are you okay?"
He looked at me in surprise. "What? Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just kind of pissed. I've been using this since seventh grade. I can believe it broke."
"Want me to break mine? We can suffer together."
He grinned a little. "That's okay. I'm going to go put this away and see if Mr. Simpson can tune a violin differently or something, I'll be right back."
He exited the practice room, shutting the door again. Out of curiosity, I turned his stand towards me so that I could try and make out some of the notes.
The page was filled with highlighter marks and notes written in both pencil and red ink. The pencil indicated his shifting patterns, but the red ink was to remind him of accidentals and dynamics, I guess.
It was actually kind of horrible. He'd written things like "A b flat isn't so fucking hard, get it right or lose your chance of a scholarship" and "it says piano, don't play mezzo piano and fuck it up, shithead."
I turned his music away from me. I knew Kell was self-critical, but I never imagined him physically writing things like that on papers he'd be using for two months. I guess he's a little different than I made him out to be in my head.
Once in orchestra, he seemed to rediscover his focus. He tuned and played through his warm-ups before starting to rehearse his part for the duet.
I ran through a scale after tuning, not entirely worried about warming up. I started plucking through my music, trying to make the high notes not sound like shit. It wasn't working.
Mr. Kitching started class eventually. Attendance always takes a while, because the class is so big and everyone's moving around and talking. He took us through a few scales and a rhythm exercise, and then dismissed those of us doing solos and duets to use practice rooms.
Kell and I took the room at the far end of the art wing, shutting the door behind us. I set my music on a stand and held my violin at my shoulder, ready to get into position or to just stand for a minute.
Kell spread his music out on the stand right by mine, gripping his instrument tightly. I couldn't help but notice how much tension was shown on his face.
He rested his viola on his shoulder, holding it and looking at me. "Are we just going until we can't?"
"Sure." I got ready and let him count off and lead us.
I fumbled a few places, but we made it nearly 15 measures through when he messed up badly enough to lose his place. It looked like a really high shift, so I didn't blame him for getting mixed up.
He apologized, blushing and starting us over at that measure. The second time through, he played through it steadily, his fingers sliding gracefully on the fingerboard. We made it nearly to the B section when he had to shift down, and he played a flat instead of a natural. He stopped suddenly at that, pausing to check his strings.
He touched the tuning peg for his D string, adjusting it tightly, and his bridge snapped out from under the strings, making both of us jump. He reached out to hold his bridge, staring at his viola in disbelief.
I couldn't help but laugh a little. "I'm sorry, that caught me off-guard."
He sighed, smiling a little, but not looking like he meant it. "I guess it just isn't my day." He looked into the f-holes, making sure everything else was okay. "God dammit, the support snapped. This whole thing is going to fall apart. I'll have to get a new rental, and I won't have anything to use for a week."
"Are there any school violas?"
"There would be, if Hannah hadn't left the one she borrowed at home."
I winced. "Sorry, that sucks."
He nodded. "Yeah. But I guess I'll just have to deal with it."
He was almost convincing me that this wasn't a big deal, but his cheeks were darkening, and his voice was cracking a little.
"Are you okay?"
He looked at me in surprise. "What? Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just kind of pissed. I've been using this since seventh grade. I can believe it broke."
"Want me to break mine? We can suffer together."
He grinned a little. "That's okay. I'm going to go put this away and see if Mr. Simpson can tune a violin differently or something, I'll be right back."
He exited the practice room, shutting the door again. Out of curiosity, I turned his stand towards me so that I could try and make out some of the notes.
The page was filled with highlighter marks and notes written in both pencil and red ink. The pencil indicated his shifting patterns, but the red ink was to remind him of accidentals and dynamics, I guess.
It was actually kind of horrible. He'd written things like "A b flat isn't so fucking hard, get it right or lose your chance of a scholarship" and "it says piano, don't play mezzo piano and fuck it up, shithead."
I turned his music away from me. I knew Kell was self-critical, but I never imagined him physically writing things like that on papers he'd be using for two months. I guess he's a little different than I made him out to be in my head.