The Concert

Untitled Part 2

Normally after a concert I would just go hide in my dressing room. My father didn't want me to "ruin the family reputation" if I let something slip. I am not normally allowed to talk to guests at the house. Children are best seen and not heard. I recognize one of the boys coming towards me. It is the Morgan child, he was my opening tonight. We have met in passing, we tend to play for the same people, and I have opened for hims a few times. He is the first to speak.

"Great performance tonight Miss Sorenson."

"You were wonderful as well Sir Morgan." We are both well trained on the art of elocution, and it is obvious. We are just about the most formal teenagers you will ever meet. He sticks out his hand.

"Victor." He was dropping the formalities? Okay then, this was odd. "And this is Kota, Silas, Nathan, Gabriel, Luke, North, Dr. Green, and Mr. Blackbourne." I nod at the gesture.

"Nice to meet you all, I'm Sang." Okay heart, calm down, you are just talking to people.

"That was an amazing set list tonight Miss Sorenson." The one call Mr. Blackbourne says with a formal air. I almost laugh at the comment, it is a miserable set list, chalk full of showpieces, not one song I actually enjoy to play. I don't trust myself to speak, so I don't.

"So Sang, " Kota starts, "How old are you?"

"15?" I state, confused as to why he is asking in the first place. He nod.

"Where do you go to school?" Before I can answer a hand grabs my arm, twisting. Oh joy, it is my father.

"Pardon me boys, but Sang needs to go home." And now the punishment commences. I swallow back my fear.

"Goodbye, I do hope to see you again," laying the southern accent on thick, hoping to cover my fear, and to appease my father. He comes in to my ear.

"Just wait until your mother finds out you were speaking to boys," he says, almost giddily. The car ride home was torture, even though it was only six blocks. I will spare you the direct quotations, but the effectively the conversation was, "You are ruining the fucking family image. Six mistakes. Six fucking, god damn mistakes." I was almost happy to get home, but then I realized what home meant. Punishment.