“Shouldn’t we be watching the others?” Katrina asked.
“Astrid will message us when we need to go. For now, warm up.”
From across the park, Katrina heard applause. It was loud. Whoever that was must have been amazing. They were all amazing, weren’t they? She was playing in a showcase. The Classically Camellia Music Showcase … They were probably brilliant and gorgeous, like anime characters.
“Katrina.”
She would never look like that, would she? Wait—Classically Camellia Music … but her piece wasn’t classical at all! What if they got mad? What if they stopped her in the middle—
“Katrina.”
“M-Miss Satomi?”
“What do you smell?”
“What?”
“What do you smell?” Miss Satomi repeated.
Smell? Katrina took a breath. And there was the smell of donuts. The smell of grass. Of car exhaust. Some kids must be smoking weed. The grass was wet in some places … She could smell the mud, and then she took another breath.
With the smells came other senses. The colors. The sounds came back. She could feel the evening cool against her.
Miss Satomi squeezed her hands firmly.
“Now, you are about to play these nice people some music, and they are eager to hear you. You’re just sharing your music with others. That’s all. Sharing.”
Katrina looked into the park, at the people enjoying a summer evening. Some were smiling. Many were peeking at their cell phones, some were drinking boba. And many were eating donuts.
Gradually, her body became hers again. She played through some scales. She repeated a few bars from Schradieck. She thought of the first time she had played in front of Miss Satomi, with the ducks.
Shizuka looked at her phone. She patted Katrina gently.
“Astrid says it’s time.”
* * *
The emcee looked at Katrina and paused.
“Our next performer is a young violinist. She, I mean he, I mean … Well, who knows these days, right?” He laughed awkwardly.
The emcee’s attempt to cover his error only made things worse. The crowd was tittering. What did that mean? But she’s wearing a dress.
A child spoke in Mandarin. Katrina didn’t quite understand, but it sounded something like, “Is that a boy?”
Shizuka was furious. This was unacceptable! She glared accusingly at the organizers, but they, too seemed horrified. None of them had anticipated this.
Katrina’s face stung with sweat. The pads in her dress seemed to be slipping, and she just knew her shoulders stood out under the stage lights. She tried to breathe, but drew back as soon as she felt her belly push against the fabric.
She glanced offstage. It wasn’t that far. She could run off now, no one would care …
Then a loud and clear voice resounded over the din.
“SHE! She’s a girl, you dipshit!”
It was as if a giant bucket of ice water fell over the crowd. Of course she was a girl. What was that even about?
Astrid smiled. Katrina blinked.
Ellen Seidel turned in shock to the person who had yelled this, because she was sitting next to her.
“Tamiko?”
“Shut up,” Tamiko hissed. “Can we just hear her play?”
“Y-yes. Please, everyone, welcome Katrina Nguyen,” the emcee finally said.
Katrina tried to find friendly faces in the crowd, the ones Miss Satomi said were always there. But to her horror, all she saw was a wall of black.
Shizuka noticed her predicament immediately. How could she have forgotten?
She had not warned Katrina about spotlights.
A spotlight looks great to the audience, but when the performer looks into the light, the light is blinding. Instead of the audience, one sees a wall of dark. Furthermore, everyone beyond that darkness is watching every move, so there is no way to blink or turn away.
Katrina’s eyes would eventually adjust, but for now, she was on her own.
Katrina could hear the audience talking, eating, breathing. So many people, so many people that she couldn’t see. What should she do? Her arms were numb; her hands felt as though they belonged to someone else, someone far away.
The wind blew, and something flew into her eye. Katrina flinched.
And Astrid mistook that flinch as the signal to begin.
No! Wait!
Instinctively, Katrina’s hands leapt into motion. But the music kept coming. And unlike practice, there was no chance to start over.
Crap! That was supposed to be a downbow.
Keep going. Keep playing. No! Her teeth clenched, as she misplayed yet another note.
Katrina could sense some older people rustling in their seats, probably getting up to leave. She guessed what they were thinking: What is this junk? Who is this freak? Soon parents would probably depart as well, saving their children’s precious classical ears from being corrupted by something as vulgar as gaming music.