The Concert

Untitled Part 9

The last bell for the day rings and I head home. Waiting by the door for me is my father. He waves me over, a new song in his hand.

"Sang, you are playing this tomorrow. You were booked for an event last minute." So he picks something I have never played. I take the stack of music from his hands , expecting it to be multiple songs. No it is one song. One 37 minute song. I bite my lip to stop from complaining and nod my head. I head up to my bedroom and do my homework, then get started memorizing the song. Liszt b minor sonata for solo violin. Just from looking at the first page I know it will be hellish to play. I go to bed at eleven. I don't even have seven minutes done. The few I have aren't even close to perfect. 

   

      I spend the 45 minutes before school in the music room, attempting to do this piece. The bell rings for first period, I groan, there is absolutely no way for me to perfect this by six. No way. the morning passes in a blur. I am so stressed. An hour per mistake, my brain says. The worst I have ever had was seventeen. I had rope burn all over my body, it was miserable. I am fully prepare for this to be the worst performance of my life, even though it was just one song.

      I go to the music room for fourth period. I immediately start working on the piece. it isn't the hardest piece, or the longest piece I have ever done, but it was on such short notice. I am biting my lip so hard it bleeds. I keep working on it, when my violin screeches. Victor and Mr. Blackbourne look over at me, concerned, I never even registered they were there. I put down my violin and sit down, putting my face in my hands, trying to relieve the stress. Mr. Blackbourne comes over to me.

"Miss Sorenson, what is the matter?" I look up.

"New piece, Liszt b minor sonata." I say it simply and he looks at me with sympathy.

"Why are you playing it if it is frustrating?" he seems simply curious.

"It is on my set list for tonight. It needs to be perfect." He blanks his face.

"A song you don't know is on your set list? Why did you pick it?"

"I didn't, my father did." He drops the conversation. I'm glad.

"Would you like some help, you are welcome to stay through lunch." He picks up the music and a pen. He is going to note my music for me. I gulp, hoping the results aren't to terribly miserable.

"From the beginning."