“Yeah,” his mom was saying, “he’s working in the cafeteria. He gets free food and benefits. Can’t you graduate early?”
He stopped, looked up at her. “What? Why?”
“So you can get a job.”
“I have a job,” he said. He rewound the video twenty seconds to examine how Hahn moved up and down the fingerboard. He hit pause and marked the music on the table in front of him. Of course—why was he trying to play that phrase in third position?
“Will you listen to me and stop with that noise?” his mother said. “That little part-time job ain’t going to make you no money. Plus it’s over in a month. You gotta help out with these bills around here. You gotta make plans.”
“I think I missed the cutoff for the winter GED,” he lied. “I can check, though.”
“After Christmas you’re going to have to start helping with the rent and the rest of the bills.” She opened a cabinet door, stared at a row of cereal and pasta boxes, closed it.
He set down his phone, actually looked at her. She was serious. Terror started out as a small nugget in his chest, quickly grew fingers, tightened like a hand around his heart. “You said before that I’d pay rent when I graduated.”
“I changed my mind,” she said. “Ricky’s already paying rent and they just got a new sixty-inch.”
“So you want me to get a GED so you can get a bigger TV? Is that what this is about?” Regional orchestra auditions were in January, and Ray really wanted to try out. If he graduated in December, he wouldn’t have the chance. It was a long shot to get in, but he’d spent the summer practicing and he desperately wanted to try out. Only the top players in the state were chosen, and if he got in he would be able to perform high-level music he’d probably never have another opportunity to play once he graduated and got a real job.
“This is about you doing what I say and getting a damn job,” she said. She crossed back, opened the refrigerator, stared into it like she was reading his fortune in the packed shelves. “You could have been making good money at Popeyes by now.”
“I don’t want to work at Popeyes. Or in the hospital cafeteria.”
“I didn’t ask you what you wanted.” She pulled out a liter of soda. “I told you to get a real paying job, you hear? You had plenty of time to find another one by now. You better have a job by Thanksgiving.” His part-time job at the construction site ended next month. She poured herself a glass of soda.
“I’ll find something,” he said. “Maybe the grocery store?”
“You need to go ahead and apply,” she said. “And go check about getting your GED.” She took her soda back to the living room, where she and the twins were watching TV. The twins, who had just celebrated their eighth birthdays, were—like his mom—addicted to Family Feud.
Ray put in both earbuds, turned Vivaldi’s L’Inverno up as loud as it would go, pressed play. He would ignore everything except the music. Hopefully his mom would forget about the GED by the end of the weekend, but that wasn’t likely—once his mom got an idea in her head, there was no shaking her. She wanted that sixty-inch.
He’d apply to the grocery store on Monday, after school. The hours were pretty much the same as the construction site, plus it was indoors. Satisfied that he had a workable plan, he spent the rest of the weekend focusing on playing L’Inverno on his school violin and playing a new video game on the PlayStation 5 his grandma Nora had given him last Christmas.
But that Monday in orchestra class, Ray’s buddy Aiden changed everything. Before class started, Aiden sat down two seats over from him, leaned in, and asked, “What’re you doing this weekend?” They’d become casual friends the year before, eating lunch together and playing duets sometimes at Aiden’s house. If Ray ever needed to borrow rosin or an extra string, Aiden was the only one who would offer. Aiden was tall and slim, with long black hair that he was constantly brushing out of his eyes. He was one of a handful of Asian kids in orchestra.
“Not much. Studying. Chillin’。 Can I borrow your rosin?” Ray asked.
Aiden handed it over. Ray unscrewed the lid, applied the rosin to the bow hair with long slow strokes.
“I got asked to play a wedding on Saturday,” Aiden said. “The other violinist just backed out. You want to take his place? It’s two-hundred bucks.”
For a moment Ray couldn’t breathe. “Are you serious? Quit fucking with me, dude.”