26

It was plain black, very stark. Shiny. Thin columns of white print. Photos of sumptuously curved violins. Austere rehearsal rooms with blond floors and blank walls. The occasional conductor springing up from the bottom of the page or the string quartet leaping in from the side. Everybody looking serious, competent, and calm. There was something about the way this brochure was designed that screamed: YOU WILL NEVER BE THIS GOOD. GIVE UP NOW, LOSER, WHILE RITE AID IS STILL HIRING.

It seemed like Avery had had this brochure and application in her possession since the beginning of time. In actuality, it took her two weeks to work up the courage to rip open the envelope it came in. It had taken her another week to read it. Now she was lying on her bed in her favorite pair of gray sweatpants, which were cut off at midcalf. Her collie, Bandit, sprawled next to her like a living body pillow. Her hair was unwashed and sticking up at weird angles, and all she’d eaten were three pieces of bread with mustard and a few handfuls of cold leftover turkey The tryptophan hadn’t knocked her out, but she was feeling very languid. Now that Thanksgiving was over, she had no plans at all for days. If she wanted to, she could go to Mel’s on Saturday and stay. But then there would be a lot of sad faces and clinging, and Mel would want to talk about their relationship.

God. She was turning into a guy. Avery turned back to the brochure. She knew perfectly well that there was no way she was going to slip into this shiny, serious-looking world. But Avery went on, skipping over the first few pages, which described how hard the school was and how brilliant all the students were, and went right for the important part—the application procedure for piano students. They required a CD or tape along with the completed application. Postmark date: December 15.

She pushed the brochure away from her. Bandit put his paw on it.

What the hell was she doing with her life? She was just sliding by in her classes. She’d been fired from Mortimer’s. If she was very lucky, she might be able to squeeze into a state school, pick some kind of noncommittal major, graduate, and get some generic job that required sitting at a computer. She’d gain weight from all the sitting and have to start eating frozen diet meals or drinking low-carb shakes from a can.

She carefully removed the brochure from Bandit’s grasp and opened it again to the admissions page. She read through the list of pieces acceptable for the recording. There were enough listed that she was happy to find that she owned at least four of them and played two of them passably. This gave her the courage to continue reading:

If you are selected to audition, you will be required to play the following from memory:

One selection from J. S. Bach’s The Well-Tempered Clavier or the Goldberg Variations

One sonata by Mozart or Beethoven (excluding Beethoven op. 49)

One 19th-century composition (solo piano)

One 20th-century composition (solo piano)

Following the audition, applicants will sit for an hour-long entrance examination in basic music theory. Callbacks will be held the same day, and a callback list will be posted by 4 P.M. on the day of the audition. If an applicant’s name does not appear on the list, the applicant should assume that he or she is no longer under consideration for a place in the class.

Gaz had a Tascam four-track recorder, and Hareth had an illegal copy of Pro Tools. Either way, she’d be able to get something on tape. She could persuade her music teacher at school and her piano teacher at home to write up some letters pretty quickly—they were always on her case about applying to music school. If she actually got up, got dressed, and got her ass in gear, she might be able to put this thing together.

Instead she rolled off her bed and went searching for leftover turkey.

As Avery came from her darkened bedroom, the glaring lights in the hallway almost sent her reeling. There was a strong odor of pine coming from a candle burning in the kitchen. Avery knew what this meant. Her mother always felt that the second the turkey had been put away, she was allowed to start rolling out for Christmas. As Avery made her way down the hall, she heard the 20 Classic Christmas Songs album on and saw her mother roping off the kitchen doorway with gold drugstore tinsel.

“Crime scene?” Avery asked. “Did someone murder an elf in there?”

“I’m going to pin it up so it drapes. Just go under.”

Avery leaned against the wall as Bing Crosby bu-bu-bu-booed his way through “Mele Kalikimaka,” the Hawaiian Christmas song.

“Bing Crosby used to beat his kids with empty whiskey bottles,” she said, rubbing her eyes hard with the heels of her hands, trying to get them to adjust.

“That’s a nice piece of holiday trivia.”

“It was an early attempt at recycling.”

“Mmmmm.”

Avery slid down the wall and sat on the floor. She didn’t even feel like making the effort to limbo the tinsel.

“What are you and Mel up to this weekend?” her mother asked.

“Me and Mel?” Avery said, her voice arching.

“I never see Nina anymore.”

“She’s busy,” Avery said quickly. “Student council.”

“Nina always was a hard worker.”

And what did that mean? Avery wondered. That she wasn’t?

Well, okay. She was slumped on the floor like a rag. Maybe it wasn’t so unfair.

“What’s the point of Christmas in Hawaii?” Avery asked.

“They deserve the holiday too.”

“Yeah, but it must be weird.”

“Only if you’re not from Hawaii,” her mother said. “Everything’s normal to somebody.”

And now Mom is a Zen master, she thought. Is the tinsel halfway up the doorframe or halfway down?

With effort Avery pulled herself up from her seat. She would call Gaz. That was at least a start. Better than sitting here, wondering if the phone was going to ring or if Mel was going to turn up. This was her fate now. Inertia and life on the run.

It would make a good band name, but it sucked as a way to live.

 

 

Christmas

 

 

December 2

TO: Steve

FROM: Nina

Ugh. Here we go. December is like insanity month on the council. I had three different meetings after school for the toy drive, the food drive, and the holiday dance committee. How are things post-Thanksgiving? Did you eat Tofurky?

Mel and Avery both kind of vanished off the face of the earth after the holiday. Mel called me once, but I didn’t see them at all, which was bizarre. Nothing has felt right since I saw Avery with that guy at the hayroll. I love you, and we are so much closer to being at school. They will be mailing the early decision notices sometime in the next 15 days, which is kind of more than I can even think about….

December 4

TO: Steve

FROM: Nina

I saw you online the other night and sent like 2,000 IMs. I guess you weren’t actually at your computer and your mom or one of your fugitive houseguests or the FBI read them.

You’re probably saving a river right now, but can you write to me so I know you’re alive?

December 6

TO: Steve

FROM: Nina

Seriously. I am about to call a search party. And I can never get through on your phone!

v.v.v.v.v.v. anxious to hear from you. I am kind of worried that the ceiling has finally fallen in or the black stuff on the floor has swallowed you up.

your neurotic girlfriend

December 7

TO: Nina

FROM: Steve

Sorry … we had computer problems. And the phone thing. I know. I’m really, really sorry. No Tofurky. Nut roast. Tasty but not very good on the intestines.

Things are crazy here now too … let me know about Stanford.