a daze this whole time, lower than I’ve ever felt. They could tell too. The teens in the office looked at me with a confused pity on their faces as I left the audition. I don’t blame them … I’m confused too.
My reed hadn’t soaked enough, and I knew it’d be an issue. But we were late enough as it was, and my parents had already made it clear that they weren’t sure London would be a great place for me, so I didn’t really get the point of following through with the audition.
But I still sucked it up. I played the piece. And I left.
I missed so many notes. Runs I know I had under my fingers mushed into a squeaky blur. My fingers felt tingly and numb as I played, and with every wrong note, I could only focus on how I was blowing this opportunity. But I made it through the piece.
“Do you want to run through that last part again?” Dr. Baverstock offered kindly. “No need to be nervous—we know you can play, and we enjoyed your video audition.”
“I don’t want to play it again,” I replied.
What I didn’t say was that my parents had just pulled the rug out from under me—in more ways than one—and that they weren’t even planning on letting me come to London anymore.
I put my oboe back in its case and grabbed my sheet music.
“I’m just wasting your time, sorry.”
I couldn’t even look him in the eye as I left.
THIRTY-SIX
The anxiety’s faded. Sort of. Okay, it never truly fades, but maybe I’m learning how to work with it. At various points of the day, I still feel sad about myself. My shoulders ache and my mind alternates messages of hate. I almost lost it all. I definitely lost him. And that’s supposed to be a good thing, but it rarely feels like it.
At a small two-top in the back, I see her. I run and wrap her in a hug.
“Sophie,” I say. “I missed you.”
“It’s been, like, a week, Mart. Let’s calm down.”
I sit down and order a traditional English breakfast—eggs, beans, bacon, sausage. Sophie and I catch up while we wait for the food.
“What’s new with you?” I ask. “What did I miss?”
“Biggest thing is, well, I gave principal clarinet to Rio,” she says, shaking her head. “I realized it meant so much more to her. But Baverstock wanted to do an audition for the solo. I’ll find out soon about that, but the audition went well.”
“It’s good he opened it up to auditions, and didn’t give it straight to Rio.”
She laughs. “I think Rio wasn’t too happy about that. She’s an odd person, very intense about everything, but I think we’re starting to be real friends. Better than what we were when we first got here.”
“Just friends?” I ask coyly.
“We’re, um, taking it slow.”
“By kissing in the—”
She kicks me under the table, so I stop. But the smile never leaves my face.
Our plates come, and I dig in. I’m starving, and for once, I’m not going to ignore it. I’m going to eat this sodium wasteland like a real Brit, and my kidneys can just be happy I’m not washing it down with beer.
“Are you mad at me for everything I said?” Sophie asks.
I shake my head, slowly. “This will sound so cliché, but I think I needed to hear it. It set everything in motion that led me to realizing Pierce was not right for me. It’s hard, because the good times with him were so good. But I was a mess. I still am a mess. It’s going to be nice to pull back and focus on myself for a bit.”
“Sorry it didn’t work out. You deserve better, anyway.”
She flashes a genuine smile, and I feel it reflected on my face.
“You’re a good friend,” I say. “I’ve been burned before, and I know you have too. But I trust you.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’ve come to the conclusion that people are, in general, nicer than not in the real world. But I was shit to you. I got so scared you’d be another Colin situation, and I hate it when people look for advice, then blatantly don’t take it.” She pauses. “But I walked out on you, even though I knew you were flailing and not eating and needed someone. What I’m saying is, even though you’re a git, I’m sorry I abandoned you like that.”