Her eyes were filled with tears—tears of joy, tears of pride, above all tears of great relief—as she gave a modest nod of her head, turned around and smiled shyly at the accompanist, and walked off the stage. Yes, she had done well. It was important that she recognize that. But what suddenly mattered to her even more was the fact that the audience and the judges had recognized it.
She took a seat in the auditorium—this time, way at the back. She felt both exhausted and exhilarated. From where she was sitting, she could see the judges scribbling away on their notepads, every once in a while one of them leaning over to confer with one of the others.
“Wow!” she suddenly heard someone say behind her. “Megan, I had no idea you could play like that!”
“Hello, Betsy,” she said, turning around and smiling at her friend.
“You were fantastic, Megan,” Betsy said sincerely. “Really. You had this entire audience mesmerized. And we’re talking about one tough audience, too!”
“Thanks,” Megan replied. Wistfully, she added, “Although at this point, all I really care about is what the judges thought.”
Betsy opened her mouth to say something, but the next contestant was already making her way across the stage. Megan turned around, anxious to watch and listen as her best friend took the place she had just left behind.
Allegra, however, exhibited none of the nervousness that Megan had been feeling. She walked jauntily, her head cocked at a careless angle. She even seemed a bit impatient, as if she were in a hurry to get this all over with so she could get on with more important things.
“She looks like she couldn’t care less,” Megan heard Betsy mutter. But she didn’t respond. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on the stage.
And then Allegra was playing. The casualness was gone. Instead there was intensity in her playing, intensity bordering on passion. It was reflected in her face, in her stance, in the way she unconsciously moved with the music—subtly, barely perceptibly, but in a way that showed that the music she was making was coming from the depths of her soul.
Megan sat stiffly in her seat. She was barely able to believe Allegra’s performance. She was aware that an awed silence had fallen over the entire audience, as if everyone were spellbound. As the musician’s nimble fingers skimmed over a particularly intricate passage with seeming effortlessness, she heard someone gasp. The whole audience was with Allegra, forced by her talent to feel the music with the same intensity as Allegra herself felt it.
As the concerto came to its dramatic close, the auditorium positively exploded. The thunderous applause was punctuated with throaty cries of “Brava! Brava!” Allegra, red faced, stood paralyzed on the stage. It was as if even she had been surprised by the passionate performance she had just given.
“Gosh!”
Behind her, Megan was aware that Betsy had jumped to her feet.
“That girl can really play!” she cried. Then she, too, began shouting, “Brava!”
Allegra had everyone in the audience eating out of her hand. Everyone, that is, except for Megan. Blindly she was making her way out of the auditorium, hurrying up the aisle toward the door as quickly as she could. She was hoping Betsy wouldn’t follow her, worried about whether or not everything was all right. But as she glanced back over her shoulder, she saw that she needn’t have worried. Betsy was too busy applauding and yelling, “Brava!”
Megan’s first impulse was to run back to her room. She longed to throw herself across her bed and have a good cry. But sooner or later Allegra was bound to show up. And at the moment, she didn’t exactly feel up to a confrontation.
Not when it was clear to Megan who the winner of the concerto competition was bound to be.
* * * *
Because of the competition, there were no rehearsals scheduled for that day. Megan had all the time in the world. She decided that what she needed was just to get away.
Besides, she told herself as she walked briskly across the Clayton College campus toward town, maybe I’ll be surprised. Maybe tonight, after dinner when they announce the winner, I’ll find out that I was wrong.
But her heart remained heavy for the rest of the day, even though she made a point of doing as many of her favorite things as she could manage. She only did things that had absolutely nothing to do with music. In town, she browsed in all the shops, going into boutiques and trying on clothes that were too expensive for her ever to buy and playing with the toys in the toy store. After thoroughly surveying all her favorite sections in the bookstore, she splurged on three paperbacks she had been anxious to read.
At noon, she treated herself to lunch out, then topped the meal off with a mint chocolate chip ice-cream cone. Next she took a long walk around the residential streets that surrounded the main shopping street of Clayton, examining the local architecture and enjoying the gardens that the careful homeowners had so lovingly planted.
It was all pointless. As she dragged herself back to the campus just before dinnertime, she was still feeling blue. She so badly wanted to win that competition, more than she could remember wanting anything ever before in her life. Yet she was practically certain that she had lost—and as if that weren’t bad enough, there was almost no doubt that she had lost to Allegra Ferrante, the best friend she had made in a very long time.
Back at Clayton College, the cafeteria was buzzing. Megan tried to tune it all out as she grabbed a tray and picked up silverware. But it was obvious that everyone was still marveling over Allegra’s performance.
“I’m certain she won,” Joan was saying to Kenny as Megan picked a fork out of the bin at the front of the cafeteria line. “Allegra was the best by far.”
“I thought everyone sounded great,” Kenny replied. Then he couldn’t resist adding, “But I think you’re right. Allegra was the best.”
Once she had her meal on her tray, Megan made a point of choosing a table far away from Allegra and the admiring crowd that surrounded her. She looked around the cafeteria. At the very back, sitting alone at a table crowded at one end with most of the brass section, she spotted Tiffany. She, at least, would not be bubbling over about how wonderful Allegra’s performance had been. Megan headed straight for that table.
“Hello, Tiffany,” she said softly. “You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?”
“I can’t very well stop you, can I?” Tiffany returned, barely looking up from the salad she was picking at. “But why aren’t you sitting with Allegra? I thought you two were as thick as thieves.’’
“Oh, I don’t know. She’s kind of ... busy right now.”
After that, Megan retreated into a sullen silence. Tiffany was only too happy to allow both of them to eat without saying a word. For all the conversing they did, they may as well have each been dining alone.
And then came the moment that Megan had been dreading. Thomas Albright, the student orchestra’s conductor, was standing in front of the cafeteria, a clipboard in hand. It didn’t take long for silence to fall over the room.
“May I have everyone’s attention, please?” he began. “I know you are all anxious to hear the results of today’s competition and to find out which concerto it is that you will all be learning as part of your orchestra music over the next few weeks. The judges just gave me their decision a few minutes ago, and I wanted to make my announcement as quickly as possible.
“I’ll get right to the point. The first runner-up—that is, the person who’ll be performing in case for some reason the winner is unable to play the night of the concert...”
“Fat chance!” called out Todd, the French-horn player who had been in the competition.
Everyone laughed, which relieved some of the tension. But not for Megan. She was so tense that she didn’t even notice that she was clasping her silverware with tight fists. That is, not until Tiffany said dryly, “Megan, I’d put that knife down if I were you. It just doesn’t look good.”
“The first runner-up,” Thomas Albright continued, “is Megan Davis.”
Fi
rst Runner-up.
She hadn’t won.
Megan was barely even aware that she had stood up and was smiling and nodding in response to the applause that surrounded her.
I lost, I lost. She could hear those two words being repeated over and over again through the thumping in her brain. I lost!
“And the winner,” the conductor was saying to the impatient crowd, “is Allegra Ferrante.”
The reception this time was on a different scale altogether. Foot-stomping, cheering, whistling—it was obvious who this group’s first choice had been. And there was Allegra, standing up in the middle of it. But instead of looking happy, she simply looked dazed.
Megan knew that the proper thing to do was to go over to her, shake her hand, and congratulate her. And so she made her way through the cafeteria toward Allegra. She plastered on her face the biggest smile that she could manage.
“Congratulations, Allegra,” she said heartily.
She stuck out her hand, but Allegra bypassed her attempt at formality and instead threw her arms around her.
“Oh, Megan, you should have won!” she cried. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t want to win. I didn’t even want to be in this stupid competition!”
“Well, you were the best, and you won. You deserve it.” Megan reached over and squeezed her hand and then walked away.
It wasn’t until late that night that the two girls had a chance to talk again. Allegra, after all, was suddenly a minor celebrity, somebody that everyone wanted to know. During that evening’s concert, there was actually a small argument about who would be sitting next to the new star. Throughout it all, from what Megan could see, Allegra simply looked amused.
She was already in bed when Allegra came into the room. Tiffany was fast asleep with her face turned to the wall, leaving the two of them alone.
“Megan, are you awake?” Allegra whispered.
While her first impulse was to play possum, she couldn’t bring herself to lie.
“Yes, I’m awake.”
“Oh, good. Megan, I’ve felt so bad all day....”
“You certainly didn’t look like you were feeling bad,” Megan countered, her words rushing out before she even had a chance to think about them. “In fact, you looked as if you were having the time of your life.’’
“Megan!” Allegra sounded so hurt that Megan immediately regretted the icy tone she had used. “I know how important that competition was to you. And it means absolutely nothing to me! If you want me to, I’ll step down. I’ll back out now, before it goes any further. Just say the word, Megan, and I’ll do it.”
“No, Allegra. You can’t do that. Everyone’s counting on you. You won, fair and square. It’s something that’s going to be happening to me all my life, so I’d better start getting used to it.”
Allegra was silent for a long time. And then she said, “Well, all right. If you’re sure.” She paused, then said, “Just as long as it doesn’t get in the way of our friendship.’’
“Allegra, I’m really tired,” Megan said. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get to sleep.”
“Okay. If that’s what you want. Good-night, Megan.”
Megan could hear how hurt Allegra was by the sound of her voice. She lay awake for a long time, overcome with emotion. What she wanted to say was, Allegra, you were fantastic. You were easily the best. You deserved to win, and I’m just being a baby.
But somehow, the words just wouldn’t come.
Chapter Nine
During her first days at Wildwood, Megan had found herself feeling lighthearted all the time. It was as if she was finally in a place in which she could really be happy. Now, however, she was suddenly feeling as if she were spending her days walking underneath a dark cloud that was constantly threatening to dump a downpour all over her.
The main problem was the concerto competition. She didn’t know which was worse: her disappointment over only coming in second, or her own astonishment over how she was acting toward Allegra. She had always thought of herself as a kind person, one who tried very hard not to be cruel or spiteful or careless about other people’s feelings. Yet when it came to Allegra, she couldn’t help being nasty. The words just popped out of her mouth, almost as if she had no control over what she was saying. And as much as she hated herself for it, she just couldn’t seem to stop.
“Are you going to the concert tonight?” Allegra asked brightly one morning, just two days after the concerto competition. “It’s going to be great. Alicia de Long is playing Beethoven’s Moonlight sonata.”
“I haven’t decided yet,” Megan replied. Her voice was flat, as if she weren’t at all interested in talking to Allegra. In fact, she barely looked up from the music she was studying, the First Flute part for Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 5.
“Well,” Allegra went on, her enthusiasm now sounding a bit forced, “if you do decide to go, I thought it might be fun if you and I sat together. You know, we haven’t spent much time together over the past few days. And, well, I’ve kind of missed you.’’
“Oh, you know how it is. I’ve just been so busy.”
As always, Megan immediately regretted both her words and her tone. But it was too late to take them back.
What’s happening to me? Megan thought with alarm after Allegra had left the room, looking crestfallen. She could see that she had hurt her friend. The expression on Allegra’s face certainly made that clear enough. She had confused her, too. But there was a stubborn streak in Megan that kept her from doing anything about it, a streak that she had never before known she had. She seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into her own misery, something she had created all by herself.
And then there was Paul Banker. All of a sudden, it was as if he had decided that his main goal in life was to make Megan Davis’s life as unhappy as he could. The brashest, most popular, most good-looking boy at Wildwood had singled her out as the object of his merciless teasing. And the way things were suddenly going, the last thing she needed was still one more thing to bring her down.
“Hey, look! If it isn’t Mozart!” he had cried that same morning, right after her short, upsetting conversation with Allegra, as she walked into the Clayton College cafeteria for breakfast.
He was sitting with three or four of his friends, a group made up of the best-looking, most self-confident boys at Wildwood. They were always together, this crowd, laughing and joking and acting as if they were having the time of their lives.
At first Megan had barely noticed them. These days, however, she was irritated by their easy friendship, the way they had fallen in together as if they had known one another for years. And the fact that Paul Banker, seemingly the group’s leader, had all of a sudden taken it upon himself to single her out as the target of his constant teasing made her want to avoid them even more.
“Come on over here, Mozart,’’ Paul called in a loud voice. “Why don’t you sit with us?”
Megan could feel her face turning beet red. Somebody like Allegra, or even Tiffany, she knew, would have no problem coming up with a smart reply, something that would make them all laugh or even cut out their teasing entirely. But she had never been able to do that.
Instead, she remained silent. She was certain that everyone in the cafeteria was staring at her. Maybe even laughing at her, this quiet, almost mousy girl who was being toyed with by this brash—and popular—boy. She wished the green-and-white tile floor of the cafeteria would open up and swallow her.
But that didn’t happen. Instead, Paul simply continued his merciless teasing.
“What’s the matter, Mozart? Too stuck up to hang out with us?”
By now all his friends were laughing their heads off. It was all Megan could do to keep from turning around and walking right out of the cafeteria. The only thing that prevented her from doing just that, in fact, was knowing that if she did, facing this group the next time around would be even harder—perhaps even impossible. So she forced herself to walk on, keeping her head held high and her eyes fixed st
raight ahead of her.
As she walked by their table, she heard one of the other boys say, “Aw, why don’t you knock it off, Paul? You can see she’s not about to waste her time with somebody like you.”
“Hah!” somebody else chimed in. “Are you kidding? Paul isn’t used to having girls say no to him!”
They all burst out into loud, raucous laughter. Megan was mortified. She was positive that no one in the entire cafeteria had missed these comments. Yet she fought back the flood of tears that was trying so desperately to fall and walked on. She went over to the cafeteria line and helped herself to food she knew she would never be able to eat.
I hate you, Paul Banker, she was thinking as she tried to force down a piece of dry toast a few minutes later. Even though I hardly even know you, I hate you more than anything or anybody in the whole world.
Paul and his friends, meanwhile, appeared to have already forgotten all about the little scene of a few minutes earlier. But she certainly hadn’t. As a matter of fact, if the way she was feeling at the moment was any indication, she doubted that she’d ever be able to forget, even in a million years.
* * * *
The only good thing in Megan’s life these days, as far as she was concerned, was playing in the Wildwood Student Orchestra. As she warmed up for rehearsal that morning, she was more determined than ever to throw herself into her music, just as she always had. After all, the experiences of the summer were leading her to conclude that everything else was simply much too hard.
The rehearsal, at least, went well. First the group ran through one of her favorite pieces, one of the Beethoven overtures. Then they got started on Mendelssohn’s Concerto in E Minor, the one Allegra was due to perform in a few weeks. The ensemble would be rehearsing the Mozart flute concerto, too—just in case—but since it was a lower priority, the group had yet to tackle it.
All in all, playing the Mendelssohn concerto turned out to be less painful than she had imagined it would be. After all, it was a beautiful piece of music, and Allegra was incredibly talented. Besides, concentrating only on perfecting the flute part, and nothing else, was right in line with her new dedication to music.
Going Solo Page 10
