But now? There was nothing that Katrina wanted to say.
Not long after, her phone buzzed. Shirley was sending her a message.
But Katrina did not hear, for she was finally asleep.
35
In the morning, Astrid served Katrina cheese, toast, muesli, and some fresh tangerine juice.
Shizuka came downstairs. Katrina gasped. She seemed delicate, almost fragile. But there was no denying her presence, her command.
Long black hair. Blood-red dress. The famous half smile that a madman might paint. Of course, sunglasses hid her eyes.
Despite herself, Katrina trembled. Her mind raced. Did Miss Satomi sense that she had the cursed bow?
But her teacher gave no indication of anything being wrong.
A small part of Katrina despaired. Part of her had wanted to believe that Miss Satomi would detect what she had done. Part of her wanted Miss Satomi to stop her, make her return the cursed bow, tell her that everything would be okay.
You’re a selfish little thing, aren’t you?
Katrina shuddered as she remembered Tremon’s words.
“I’m ready,” Katrina said.
“Then let’s go.”
Katrina stood up, then paused.
“Miss Astrid, thank you, for everything.”
Astrid blinked.
“Of course, Miss Katrina.”
The drive was quiet. To make everything as familiar as possible, Shizuka had driven Katrina to the Golden Friendship Pavilion multiple times. From the parking lot to the courtyard to the venue itself—Katrina had rehearsed all of it.
Yet that preparation seemed to have been for naught, for today the Pavilion had become an unrecognizable wonderland of red and gold. Red and gold, red and gold everywhere—in banners, streamers, flower arrangements. To the Chinese, red represented good luck, wealth, and fortune, and gold was, well, gold. And scurrying about this opulence were reporters, spectators, musicians and their retinues, and many, many people wearing lanyards.
“Miss Shizuka Satomi! Miss Katrina Nguyen!” said a man with a fancier-than-average lanyard.
“Yes we are,” Miss Satomi said.
“Uh—my name is Landon Fung, one of the directors. I can take Miss Nguyen from here. You do remember the notice we sent to all competitors?” he asked nervously.
With nearly all events, Shizuka would have remained with Katrina, and even kept her away from the other competitors. But in this competition, coaches and teachers were asked to kindly refrain from coming backstage. Musicians were to be together, to mingle, “in the spirit of friendship,” as the organizers said.
Of course, Shizuka knew this was a load of crap. This separation had Tremon’s hands all over it. But nothing could be done. Shizuka gave Katrina one last look over.
“Do you have everything you need?”
“Yes, Miss Satomi.”
“Energy bars?”
“Yes.”
“Tuning fork?”
“Y-yes.”
“Okay, then. Make sure to find a quiet place to rest. Stretch your fingers, especially your pinky, remember? And don’t talk to people if you don’t want to.”
“Yes, Miss Satomi.”
Katrina turned to walk away.
“Wait! Katrina?”
“Yes, Miss Satomi?”
“Next week, shall we bring our violins to El Molino Park?”
“Yes! And can we stop for boba afterward?” Katrina asked.
“Of course.”
“Maybe tea eggs, too?”
“Two orders.”
“I love you, Miss Satomi,” Katrina said.
Shizuka hugged her student for the last time, and kissed her on the cheek, and watched her leave. She turned to an official who had been waiting by her side.
“I assume you are here to escort me to my seat.”
* * *
Backstage in the green room, Katrina felt eyes upon her, but not from the other musicians. The probing eyes were from the contest staff themselves. They pointed. They whispered. But Katrina did what her teacher said. She stretched. She nibbled an energy bar. She visualized.
Suddenly, everyone stopped talking, for Mr. Daniel Kar-Ching Tso and Mr. Tremon Philippe walked into the room. From the looks of the other musicians, this must have been unexpected; Katrina noticed some of them instinctively search for their teachers or coaches, while others fidgeted into a corner or pulled out their cell phones.
One of their assistants cleared his throat, then spoke. “We don’t mean to disturb you, but Mr. Tso could not wait to meet everyone. There’s no need for formalities—please be as you were. Mr. Tso just wants to chat with each of you, and then we’ll be on our way.”