“But this is just before the level boss!” Katrina cried.
“I don’t care. The level boss can wait until you play with satisfactory détaché.”
Her student was going to perform a piece from a video game. A student of Shizuka Satomi—playing gaming music. She thought of her six previous students. What would they think of the Queen of Hell now?
Katrina laughed.
It was such a beautiful laugh, wasn’t it?
May Hell have mercy on her soul.
JULY
22
Who lives in Temple City?
One hundred years ago, the answer would have been easy; the area had been opened with railroad money, to be settled by German Americans and those comfortable living with them.
Seventy-five years ago, the Camellia Festival was started by the Ladies of Temple City to make their community notable, beautiful, and officially incorporated. There had been a Miss Temple City contest. A pancake breakfast with the firemen. An active Boy Scout troop. A student art show at the Temple City Library. There had been a cobbler, a hobby shop, a dance studio. Ye Loy Chinese restaurant offered postwar Americans an exotic selection of sweet and sour pork, beef chop suey, and egg foo young.
Fifty years ago, kids from Temple City High School would stop at Fisher’s Drug store for a root beer from the soda fountain, while in the park was a pristine white pavilion where local performers played big band, swing, Elvis, Tom Jones.
And today, the Boy Scout troop was still there, as was the pancake breakfast, the art show at the library. There was the hobby shop, the bike shop, and even the dance studio. The park was still there. Miss Temple City was now Miss Temple City Ambassador. The pavilion, now with a fresh coat of paint, still featured the music of big bands and Engelbert Humperdinck.
Yet now, rather than Germans, one was far more likely to find Chinese, Vietnamese, Filipinos, a few Malaysians, and still more Vietnamese. Where there had been shoemakers, coffee shops, and tailors, there were now Vietnamese bridal shops, boba places, a new branch of Golden Deli Pho.
And where Ye Loy once stood, Ahgoo’s Kitchen was now busy making stir-fried water spinach, Taiwanese fried noodles, and green onion sesame pie. And, although they offered fried rice and hot and sour soup, at least once a week a staff member would have to inform a confused customer that they did not serve egg foo young.
This evening, the park chattered with an uncommon energy. On most summer nights, older people gathered on familiar lawn chairs to hear familiar music. Sometimes they let their hair down to a Beatles tribute band or, very rarely, classic rock.
But this evening was classical music under the stars! The atmosphere felt a little like the Hollywood Bowl. Some had even brought picnic fixings from Trader Joe’s. And the park was also full of younger, mostly Asian families, who were either musicians or the families of musicians.
Landon Fung nibbled a donut. Whatever the reason, Ellen Seidel had hit upon a fantastic idea. Some of the older people in the Chamber had wondered out loud how classical music would appeal to a younger crowd. But these kids were excited and eager to be there. Many had music cases with them, and some were looking at sheet music, either in print or on their phones.
As he watched them, looking with awe at the bright pavilion stage, Landon Fung couldn’t help but feel proud to live right here, in Temple City.
Meanwhile, Tamiko Giselle Grohl was in her pre-performance cocoon: hoodie on, headphones on, sheet music, water, and a small container of macaroni potato salad at her side.
An outdoor showcase was not so much a competition as it was a spectacle. As always, parents were bragging and teachers were pacing. Some oboist would worry about how the wind was affecting her reed. A pianist would complain about not having a grand piano in the park. A violist … well …
Tamiko yawned.
Whatever … who cared? What mattered was Shizuka Satomi was here. And this time, Tamiko was ready.
Tamiko noticed her teacher nervously searching the park. She closed her eyes. Don’t worry. The Queen of Hell is here.
And her new student would be sharing the stage. Perfect.
Let’s play together. Tamiko giggled.
Let’s play together soon.
Eventually, Landon Fung signaled to the sound person, and the DJ stopped. The festival director said a few words, a representative of the formerly Ladies, now Women’s, Club of Temple City gave thanks, and a children’s choir led the crowd in singing “The Star-Spangled Banner.”
The crowd applauded, and the first Classically Camellia Music Showcase began.
As all this was going on, Shizuka had sheltered Katrina in a quiet space away across the park, near the public library. Katrina was playing sixth, which meant there was no reason to rush.