Concerts -- classical ones -- ask of a person to sit with their thoughts, an activity that self-respecting historians estimate fell out of fashion at the turn of the century -- and they don't mean this one -- in a place like Port Alms. The average citizen of Port Alms might be observed going to great lengths -- taking month-long cruises, promotion offers, their coffee to-go -- to avoid sitting with their thoughts.
In some ways it was hard to blame them. Common side effects of sitting down with one's thoughts include a sudden and inexplicable urge to circle the marble kitchen island, open the fridge, find nothing to your satisfaction and then close it again. Or you might find the wall opposite or adjacent a television screen and form approximate ninety degree angles with your body in ways that might inspire Pythagoras to first scratch his chin and wait a second. You would not be alone in experiencing the instant recall an item on your daily to-do list, Literally Anything Else. Alternatively still others will remember a very important place they had to be ten minutes ago (Please, Any Set of Coordinates But These). But for the most resolute of the citizens of Port Alms the fruit has been sliced, the nannies briefed and the children dropped off -- so they take a seat in Towers Theater.
Of course, it helps that what the fruit was for, why the nannies were there in the first place and where the children have been dropped of to was also in Towers Theater. In the name of entertaining kids entertaining them -- or maybe even out of a real interest, though this would send a tier of self-respecting historians into unblinking shock -- the parents of Port Alms snapped their fingers and ordered flights from far and wide to be in the audience on the night of Spera's first pamphleted performance of the year.
Peeking around the side of the high emerald stage curtain Adagio scanned the crowd with half a heart...
That was okay. She hadn't expected her parents to be there. She spotted some communications majors with expensive-looking cameras standing along the sides of the theater -- prime spots for capturing yearbook photos -- and some dance and arts majors scattered in the crowd. Saachi was somewhere on band president duties and Lydia was on section leader ones, which involved making final binder checks and tying up girls' black concert dresses to this side of suffocating. On the return trip from the fairly empty backstage to the overflowing band room Adagio passed the practice hallway where people tuned inside some rooms and changed inside others, their friends standing guard outside the door. The bathrooms had long lines, you see -- the girls' because of hair and makeup, the boys' because of their five piece concert tuxedos, so the scrappier ones, well, scrapped.
Adagio had beat the call-time bathroom rush. Claire had invited her to get dinner at Three Village, but Adagio had regretfully declined -- and then passed by Saachi in the practice room hall. To Adagio's intrigue the older girl had only smiled knowingly and helped unlock a practice room for Adagio before disappearing around the corner towards the theater. It was in this practice room that Adagio played through the concert program, Miss Cadence's etudes, and Lydia's solo a couple (dozen) times. When the hallway outside had started filling with the voices and laughter of music students returning from Three Village, Adagio did not feel she missed out -- quite the opposite. For what was real happiness if not time made irrelevant? She did forget to eat dinner though, and upon remembering she forgot, continued to.
Finally Adagio reached the band room whose doors were more revolving than double at this point as students and band parents streamed in and out of them. At a quarter til Mr. Ivan led a warm-up of the symphonic band and spoke to the band. The Wind Ensemble, who was not playing until after intermission, was already seated in Towers Theater.
It was a testament to the reputation of Spera Music that Towers Theater sat forward when Adagio's band took the stage. Lower band, sure -- but Spera bands were not typical of other high schools'. These were bands that entertained when the President came to visit, bands whose awards won awards. The younger band enjoyed the expectations of nepotism, of proximity, of closeness to the Spera Wind Ensemble and lived in the spotlight shadow of being its opening act. Mr. Ivan, a good man, did not see it that way. He spoke a few words about tonight's concert program and a few words about his appreciation for the audience for coming out, and when he then took the podium to lift with his baton the glimmering instruments on stage into a playing position it was Claire who played the first note of the night. A tuning tone, a call to be answered...
