Grins split as sweat dripped down our faces. Arms shook with ferocity as we struggled to maintain the note. The brass section had to be close to passing out at this point.
He pinched off the note abruptly and we all stopped, bows lifted and mouths opened. The air held that last note as our ears adjusted to the sounds of heavy breaths and a few relieved huffs of laughter. He lowered his arms. We smiled around the room at each other, feeling that thrill of a job well-done. There was something absolutely magical about a room full of different instruments forming one perfect composite of sound. I pressed down the goosebumps on my arm.
We waited with bated breath as Devlin gripped the podium, head down and shoulders heaving.
“We need so much more practice,” he growled, his head still down.
I shot a glance to Erin again as she slumped back, spreading out her Converse clad feet. She was obviously preparing herself for the lecture we all knew was headed our way. It hadn’t taken long to learn the new conductor’s habits.
“Just not enough.” He linked his fingers on top of his black baseball cap, his arms framing his head like he couldn’t handle it. And I was definitely not noticing how his biceps bulged at the action, pulling the fabric to capacity, because his temper was appalling and juvenile and I would never support that. But also, daaayum.
“The violas were late coming in. The cellos lacked gusto. Don’t get me started on the brass section. And for the love of God, who dropped their bow?”
I hunched, hiding as much as I could behind the neck of my cello. So much for thinking maybe he’d go a little soft on me now that he was asking for my help. My cheeks burned with humiliation. His critique of the cellos wasn’t all on me, but it felt that way.
The only good thing about this rant was that it signified a break. A violinist started to loosen her bow and Devlin shot her a glare.
“Did I say we were done?” he asked in a scary calm tone.
Color drained from her face. It wasn’t her fault. His lectures, typically at the end of rehearsal, were like Pavlov’s bell. If ever I felt a lecture coming on, I got an overwhelming urge to pack something up. He seemed more wound-up than normal, even for him, and that was saying something.
He brought his face forward and lowered his voice. “I have an announcement.” Nobody moved or spoke. Eyes flicked to gauge the reactions of the other players. “The SOOK will be re-auditioning for chair selections.” Nobody spoke while we waited for more information. That couldn’t have been right. “For each section,” he added on.
Noise erupted all around me. I sat quietly as dread settled in. Chair auditions were common enough when there was a major change, but right before Maestro Henrich retired we’d auditioned for new chair assignments. Holding another audition this soon, for the entire symphony, was pretty unheard of. Maybe this was what had been bothering him?
Carla raised her hand. She was only a few years older than me but was married with kids, a first chair, the daughter of the SOOK’s co-president, and always looked chic. It was hard not to compare all that I lacked against all that she was.
“Even the first chairs?” She spoke before he called on her. I cringed internally. “I’ve been practicing the Bach solo for the fall showcase.” Her confidence was strong; in her defense, she’d been playing with the SOOK for many years, and had been first chair for the last two. But after the question was out and Devlin’s head slowly twisted toward her, her confidence melted. She flicked a glance to Barry, who had suddenly become very interested in his sheet music.
“Excuse me?” Devlin asked.
“I said—”
“I heard your question, but assumed it wasn’t for me as you didn’t address me as Maestro.”
“Sorry. Maestro.” She lifted her chin as red stained her cheeks.
“All chairs are required to audition,” he said.
She huffed out a breath and smoothed her ponytail.
Nobody liked to be criticized in front of their peers. So that must have been why I had a momentary loss of brain function and wanted to convey some cello camaraderie.
“Don’t worry, Carla. I’m sure you’ll still make first chair.” The words came out without my meaning them to. The different sections had already started talking and probably no one but the cellos heard me.
Her head snapped to my seat, behind her and to the right. Derision was the word you could use to describe her lip curl.
“I’m sorry. Who are you, you little toad?” she whispered with slitted eyes.
My mouth snapped shut and I focused on scraping off a piece of rosin stuck to the body of my cello with my fingernail. Well, that was what I got for talking to her. Or anybody. Head down and play. Feel nothing. Do nothing. Say nothing. That was the way to get by.
I risked a glance up. She had turned back around and was angrily flipping through her music. I told myself she was embarrassed for being chastised. That her comment had nothing to do with me. She was ashamed and angry, and I was an easy target for the feelings she couldn’t take out on Devlin. Still. Pretty crappy.
“The SOOK is hiring an outside agency to coordinate the auditions. I will be working with a committee to decide who is the best fit for each position.” The room quieted as Devlin spoke again. “I’m telling all of you this now because it could take weeks before this is all settled. I don’t have more information at this time. Last thing. The fall showcase will be featuring my newest concerto. Take ten.”
The room filled with sounds of whispered gossip. When I glanced up again, Devlin was studying Carla with a stern expression. His gaze strayed to mine and, knowing that I had caught him staring, he quickly looked away. He stomped off the podium and left the room without another word.
Chapter 3
