soothing. Others sounded like a hacksaw drawn across a chalkboard.
Suddenly, the earplugs made so much sense.
I wondered how Jolene could stand this at all. With our supernatural hearing, sitting through these sessions had to be torture for her. And the kids had private lessons on top of these weekly classes! Never underestimate the tenacity of a devoted werewolf mama.
It took a few moments for my nerves to adjust to the aural anarchy, but eventually, it became background noise. I couldn’t tell whether it was because the students were getting warmed up or I was simply able to block it out. I’d spent years tuning out my relatives nonstop droning. By comparison, the screeching scales were far less annoying.
The noise stopped and the “assistant teachers” called out advice for the kids who were making errors. Joe was asked to demonstrate a proper finger position for a B flat. The sound that filled the room was warm and rich, like honey flooding over a sweet, dense cake.
I chewed my bottom lip. I had food on the brain. Maybe I should have had some of the beef jerky in the car.
“Are you with the twins tonight?” a nearby mom asked kindly. When I nodded, she added, “They’re very talented.”
“Like, suspiciously talented?” I asked, my brow raised.
She stared at me for a long beat because I’d just said something very weird. “No. Some kids are just a little more musically inclined than others.”
I smiled awkwardly. “Oh, well, thank you, that’s very nice of you to say. I’m their cousin, Ty. I’m filling in for Jolene tonight.”
“Namita Singh,” the lady said, shaking my offered hand.
“Which one is yours?”
“Amelia.” She nodded to a tiny form almost entirely hidden behind a youth cello. She didn’t seem to be struggling with its size or playing scales. While not quite as smooth as Joe’s playing, she clearly knew what she was doing.
“Wow,” I marveled. “How old is she?”
“Six. Joe has been helping her since she started here. He’s such a sweet boy, and very patient with the younger kids.”
“That’s our Joe,” I said, grinning proudly. On the other side of the room, Janelyn demonstrated a scale, the notes rippling off of her bow at a hummingbird’s pace.
“Janie’s a little more intense,” I added, making Namita laugh.
“It’s good for the kids to get together like this,” she said. “The private lessons are essential, for the kids to get the individual attention they need to grow. But they really need this time together to see how the other students play, the little tricks they use and how they cope with frustration if they’re not getting it right. And of course, it’s good for them to socialize and learn how to play as a group. Mr. Bonfils says music can be lonely pursuit and that can be very bad for the musician.”
“Mr. Bonfils is the teacher?”
Namita blushed, glancing down at her book. “He’s very good.”
In the risers, a boy tried to copy Janelyn’s speed on the scale and failed. Repeatedly. Janelyn tried to calm him down and tell him that she’d worked for weeks to get it right, and he just needed to slow down. But he stood up suddenly, red-faced and frustrated, knocking over a music stand and nearly smacking the boy seated in front of him.
Suddenly, the office door opened, and a blurred blue shape sped toward the falling stand. A tall, dark-haired man caught the stand before it fell. None of the other parents reacted, so I assumed they were used to this sort of vampire speed displayed in class. The kids’ music teacher was a vampire. Interesting.
The teacher knelt in front of the frustrated kid and spoke to him, so quietly that no one else could hear what was said—not even with my hearing. The boy’s shoulders relaxed, and he took deep breaths. The vampire showed him how to place his fingers around the violin’s neck and handed him the bow. The student played through the scale slowly and the notes were far less jarring on the ears. The tension in the classroom immediately eased.
“Welcome, class, sorry about the late start,” he said as he turned. “But what do we know about responsibilities?”
“Responsibilities, like school and chores, are just as important as music,” the kids chorused together as if they’d heard it many times before.
The vampire crossed to the conductor’s stand and I got a good look at his face. Only my werewolf speed kept me from fumbling my phone to the floor. He wasn’t just any vampire.