students before they outgrow me and go off to do bigger and better things.”
“He’s good at this,” Jay whispered, and Adam nodded.
“We have six students performing tonight, as well as Mr. Matthews who will be accompanying me in a duet, a piece written by me that he may be using next year to audition to Julliard. I’d like to give him a round of applause now for how hard he’s been applying himself”—Nik paused as the crowed clapped—“and I wish him all the best. For now, I don’t want to keep you. Each student will be performing two pieces, and in order to keep this short and focused on the children, I’ll let the program guide you through the performance.” Nik took a bow, then walked back off stage, a small girl who couldn’t have been more than six or seven taking his place.
She stood at the edge of the stage, curtsied, then hopped up on the bench and, after a beat, began her work.
Adam wished beyond anything he knew more about music when the concert was over. He had gotten a text on his phone midway through the second child’s piece of something that he thought was probably Beethoven, and it was Nik asking him to meet him backstage when it was over.
Nik: Show them this text and they’ll let you through. I’ll be down the hall, two doors on the left.
Adam texted back a quick okay, then shoved his phone into his pocket and tried to pretend like he didn’t notice Jay staring at him. He couldn’t help but wonder if Jay had gotten the same invite, but he didn’t dare ask. He wanted, just for this little while, to pretend like he still had something a bit more special than everyone else.
He tapped his foot along to the rest of the music and then when Nik took the stage with a teen nearly his height, and they both took a seat at the same piano, Adam’s heart began to thud in his chest. This was Nik’s piece—his own, that he’d written. This was his showcase, and this was something Adam knew was a gift.
Watching him play on stage was nothing like watching him in the mall or watching him on the grainy video. He was lively, moving and swaying, like the music was pouring out of his entire body. He smiled the entire time, and he worked off his partner, and Adam just wished he knew whether or not others considered it good—or if they were as moved as he was.
His arms and legs were covered with goosebumps by the end, and he was fighting off the urge to let a few tears loose. When it was over, Adam’s entire body was tense as he clapped, legs fighting the urge to rise, but no one did. Not even when the pair took the edge of the stage and bowed.
And maybe standing ovations were over now. Maybe they were some sort of faux pas if the composer was blind. He had no idea, but something in him told him that Nik had been cheated out of something he deserved. All the same, he clapped harder, and kept clapping until Nik and the teen disappeared.
The crowd immediately began to murmur, people rose, filtering out the front doors. Adam turned in his seat to watch them go, and then he looked at Jay. “Was it like…bad?”
Jay shrugged. “This is my first real concert. He’s played for me at his house a couple of times, and I can tell you, this was better.”
“I thought it was amazing,” Adam breathed. “But everyone here is acting like…” He didn’t have words besides wrong and maybe arrogant. He wanted to rage, and yell, and tell them all to do better, but what did he know. “He wants me to meet him backstage.”
Jay’s brows rose, but he didn’t look surprised. “Tell him I said good job, and that his ass better come see me next week.”
Adam felt something jump in his chest, but he tried to keep it calm as he nodded and extended his fist after they both rose, and Jay bumped it. “And hey, if you ever get bored, you know where I am. We’re never busy.”
“You got it, man.” Jay glanced around the nearly empty space now, shook his head, then wandered off, and Adam fished his phone out of his pocket.
He made his way down the aisle, expecting to be stopped at any moment, but no one lingering gave him a