I'll Fight Your Fears For You (4)

Judges Are Dangerous

People are noisy things.  Here at the high school, noise bounced from cold white floor to cold white wall.  There was no softness to slow it down. Like pets without leashes, sounds scattered through the air, forgetting their owners.  The way our noises blended into one off key drone reminded me of a chorus of crickets.  I couldn’t tell the source of half the sounds that echoed in my ears. That heavy thumping, was it coming from the boy a ways away playing timpani? Perhaps it came from the girl distractedly kicking the wall a few feet in front of me.  There was another pounding though, coming from my heart.  To me, it was the loudest one of all. 

Not even my most vicious playing could overpower these sounds crowding my ears. That didn’t stop some people from trying though.  I watched as a short boy sawed at the strings of his viola.  Poor instrument, carrying the weight of the world on its strings. 

I was certainly not known for vicious playing.  The notes I attempted to play barely dented the force field of sounds surrounding me. It was like those scenes in movies where the wind was rushing so loud a person couldn’t hear their own voice before it was swept away.  My bow slid across the strings and I detected a faint whistle.  Then, within the blink of an eye, noise came galloping in from all directions smothering my weak notes.

It was no mystery why I couldn’t focus. I had lost my place a thousand and one times despite how much I'd practiced these short songs.  I ached to put down my violin and cover my ears, but if I so much as relaxed my grip, Mama would shoot me a look of worry. At these moments, it was easy to read what was on the tip of her tongue.  Do you want to leave? I would not let her ask me this question so I kept my violin plastered to my shoulder. I was not going to leave.  She was not going to persuade me otherwise.

Diligently, I continued to bow and finger the notes, but I knew I wasn’t really playing music.  I had practiced these songs so much the notes were burned into my head.  I could play them with my eyes closed.  But I knew to play true music, you had to have focus.  And focus I did not have.  So many conversations swarmed around my head, tempting my eyes and ears to drift away.

At the moment, I struggled to keep from listening to the three girls to the right of me.  I could see they were all violinists. They seemed to pose against the wall, violins rested dramatically in their arms. Their blonde hair was immaculate and they didn't seem at all nervous. They laughed and fiddled with their violins as if being here was no big deal. As my eyes lingered on them, I saw that one girl was not masking her fear as well as her companions.  Her eyes darted around, pausing every so often on that door, the door that read don’t disturb when door is closed.  Then, they flew rapidly away, only to return to that door moments later. 

After a few more rounds of this look-at-the-door-don’t-look-at-the-door game, she seemed to force herself to turn towards the other two girls.  “Are you nervous?” she asked her friends crossing her arms as if this was a casual question.  I barely made out her high voice amongst the noise, but my ears caught on and I listened. 

“Nah, I made it in last year.  I’ll make it in this year.  I just hope I get a higher spot,” one girl answered, looking down at her light pink watch.  She scrunched up her eyes and rubbed the surface.  It was as if she thought there was a genie in there.  Oh Genie, please speed up time, I imagined her saying.  When her wish wasn’t granted, her arm fell back to her side and her eyes darted towards the third girl.  I almost thought I saw her eyebrow arch a bit in challenge as she waited for third girl to admit fear. 

“Of course I’m nervous,” the third girl scoffed without a moment’s hesitation.  The nervous girl smiled in relief, and the girl with the pink watch smiled too, but for some reason it looked victorious.  “Unlike you guys,” the third girl went on, “I want to get accepted into Philharmonic Youth Symphony.”

She emphasized the word symphony and I detected a sharp arrogant tone in her voice.  The Philharmonic Youth Symphony was more advanced then the orchestra I was auditioning for.  From the article I read, there were twenty people trying out for every one spot.  Essentially, unless your playing blew the judges out of their seats, you weren’t in.

“If I don’t get a spot, I’ll be stuck in Philharmonic Youth Orchestra again,” the girl added.  She ignored the way her friends’ smiles drooped. 

“At least you’ll be with us,” the nervous girl offered, recovering her composure.  Her phony smile hurried back onto her face.  It was the smile kids so often wore.  Even when they were insulted they wore it.  Why smile if there was nothing to smile about I wondered. But then, I never had any friends to impress so I could really never understand these imposter smiles.     

Still the arrogant girl was not done talking. “No offense,” she responded carefully, struggling to look apologetic, “But the music in CYO is way too easy for me. I’m totally ready for CYS.  Don’t take it wrong now.  I’m sure you guys will love the music but I’m ready for a challenge.”

Something told me this girl was not going to make it in to CYS.  She might as well be walking around with a sticker on her forehead reading, “Pride goeth before a fall.”

But who was I to judge them?  I was a stranger in this world of competition and boasting.  My head was spinning from the pressure of their conversation and the pressure of the room in general.  Over and over I repeated to myself why I was here.  I just needed to make it into CYO.  I wasn’t here to be better than anybody.  I was here to escape a desolate future of being one in a triplet.  I wasn’t here to be better than anybody.  As I thought this though, there was a small twinge of something in my head.  A small twinge of something telling me that I wanted to be better than these people.  It was a twinge of competition I realized and the longer I waited the less like a twinge and more like a constant ache it became. 

The sound of a door opening interrupted my thoughts. I probably wouldn’t have noticed if the president was standing beside me at that moment, but I would have heard that sound over anything. It was the sound I had been waiting for.  It was the sound that meant it was someone else’s turn to meet their doom.  Mama heard it too and we both knew I was next. 

However, my feet remained rooted towards the ground as a man exited the room. He pushed his way through the crowds, eyes scanning a sheet of paper held between two bony fingertips.   

“17354?” he asked different people gathered in the hallway. Each time they shook their head, because I was the one who had that number.  It was burning a hole in my polka dotted shirt.   

I took a step forward, propelled by the urgency with which the man checked his watch.  He was as afraid of the judges as I was.  But he was afraid he’d be late getting there, while I was afraid I'd get there at all.  Once more, I hesitated.  It was the opportunity mama had been waiting for. 

“Mouse,” she said and I groaned inwardly, “Remember, judges are people and people can be dangerous.”  Her voice was definitely bordering on ominous. “They can crush all your hopes and dreams with one number.  I don’t want them to hurt you Mouse,” she pleaded, concern building in her eyes like dark storm clouds. “If they so much as frown at you, walk right out of there.  We can go home and you don’t ever have to come back.” 

I could tell that was what she wanted to do.  She wanted to leave and forget everything. I didn't know why she wanted this, but I knew it had to do with fear.  What she was afraid of I didn't know, but for once, I was not going to allow her fear to mess with me. 

Arguing wasn't going to solve anything, so I just nodded once as if I actually agreed with what she said.  Again, I stepped forward. In the process, I nearly slammed into somebody standing rather close to me.  Imaginary germs burst all over the surface of my skin so that I barely noticed who I had run into.  It was the man who was looking for my number.  He stumbled backwards, startled.  When his eyes fell to the number on my shirt though, he seemed pleased.  “It’s your turn.  Follow me,” he commanded in a raspy voice after a short apology for the collision.  Seeing Mama, he said, "She'll be back in a few minutes."

I could see the hints of panic crawling into Mama’s expression.  Images of her crying or squeezing my arm with the insistence of a child filled my head. I sighed in relief though, when she visibly caged the panic and offered a shaky smile. “It doesn’t matter what happens in there Mouse,” she said and I knew she meant to be encouraging.

It wasn’t though and I bit my lip in frustration.  She didn’t understand anything. I didn’t respond, but gratefully followed the man down the hallway.

I didn't want to look back.  I was afraid, Mama would think I was second guessing myself.  Once I turned my head a little though, I couldn’t stop.  I faced backwards briefly and my eyes met Talia’s.  The flicker of a smile lit up her face.  “Good luck,” she mouthed.  Sophia frowned deeper, but I knew it was her way of showing she was nervous for me.

I lifted up my arm slightly and waved.  Suddenly, a cluster of older girls snickered nearby and I jerked my arm down.  I wished I’d never hesitated.  I needed to stop acting so immature. I was going into the real world now. 

The man and I reached the door, but he waited before opening it. His wrinkled hand rested on the doorknob as he turned and looked at me.

“I’m going to tell you not to be nervous and you’re not going to listen,” he said to me.  It was true and I smiled.  “But just remember, there’s always next year.”

For some reason, this did make me feel a bit better but I didn't say so.  I wasn’t sure how true it was, because I doubted Mama would agree to this again.  There was still hope though.

“Okay,” said the man, voice changing rapidly to business like.  “So you’re going to walk into the room and there’s going to be a curtain.  Behind that curtain is where the five judges are sitting.  They can’t see you so that way the scores are completely fair.  To keep it fair, you must not talk either alright?” he said.  I nodded. With every word he spoke, his eyebrows rose and fell.  They were like fuzzy white caterpillars crawling around in his web of wrinkles.  Those were the bushiest eyebrows I had ever seen and I wondered if he had to brush them every morning.  It certainly didn't appear as if he took the time to do so.  Wiry white tufts sprang out from them in all sorts of directions.  Those eyebrows were much more fascinating then this rehearsed pep talk was. Nonetheless, I tried in earnest to listen to what he said but much of it escaped me.  I focused in as his little speech seemed to draw to a close, "It’ll be over within five minutes.  Take a deep breath,” he said. I pretended like I did by lifting up my shoulders.  No air came in though. It felt like I was breathing under water.

Without warning, the man inched open the classroom door and a rush of air fluttered the ruffles of my skirt.  As the little gust disappeared, so did my confidence.

I was about to meet those strange creatures who could crush all hopes and dreams with a number. Even worse, I was completely weaponless, armed with nothing but worry and doubt.