ARC ONE

tacet
Origin: Latin
Silent; do not play

DISCLAIMER: The personalities and opinions of these characters do not represent those of actual idols themselves, the Juilliard students, the New York Philharmonic, or any of its employees. The Juilliard School is not responsible for the accuracy of information.

The Forty-Second Measure

Tuesday: October 6, 2020

I seriously regret ratting out Reina last night.

What the hell was I thinking? Revealing her name to President Polisi just because I got upset with her over the dinner table for not reminding Yoojung about my meal. She's not going to let me into her social circle anymore because I just costed her seventy-two thousand dollars. What are my parents going to think when they find out that I'm not friends with her and the others anymore? 

What are Reina and the others going to do to me now that I protected Chaeyoung and not them?

"Mina! You awake?" I could see Sana's big eyes from the corner of my top bunk, taking a gander at my sleeping figure as she stands on my ladder.

"Oh, sorry", I sat up. Sana moved over so that I could climb down from my bed and slip on my blue penguin slippers.

"What's your first class today?"

"Music Theory", I tell her.

Reina is in that class. The two of us would always sit in the front row so that the professor would notice us and we would answer his spontaneous questions just to show off (Or rather I, since Reina just looks over at my notes and then creates a response by rewording my writing).

"Well guess what?" Sana was wiping her glasses, "Today is your appointment. You're skipping that class today."

I didn't believe her, "Are you serious?"

Sana unplugs her smartphone from the cable of her charger and flashes the e-mail in front of my eyes. Thank god that I don't have to see Reina today. I'll just ask Jun for the Music Theory assignment since he's in my class. Dr. Schmidhuber wanted to see me in three days to check up on my condition, whatever it is. I'm just praying that there'll be a cure and then I'll be all normal again.

"Mina, aren't you going to get dressed?"

I lowered my head and found that I was still clothed in a pink, silk nightgown and no pants, "You're right."

The Forty-Third Measure

I never thought that I'd land myself back in a hospital room again.

My parents haven't scheduled a doctor's appointment for me in years. The last time I recall being in a hospital room was when I first had the ringing sensation in my ears, in the summer before my third year of high school, while I was on tour with the Youth Symphony of the United States of America in Japan. My parents weren't even there when I had to get rushed to the hospital after a concert at Suntory Hall. My mom was furious at me when she found my medical bill in her mailbox. My parents insist that there's nothing wrong with my ears and that I'm just overreacting.

As soon as the elevator doors slide open to reveal Juilliard's Health Services Center, a tiny head pops up from behind the counter and the young girl's face illuminates, "Woah! Mina is here already? I didn't know that Tuesday had arrived already."

"Wh-Who are you?" 

"I'm Umji!" she greets, "And I'm the office aide for the health services center and your loyal fan!"

There's more of these "fans"?

"You want an autograph, huh?" I guessed before Umji could open again.

"Boy, would I!" Umji dismounts from her wheely chair and dashes to the copy room to grab a piece of paper and pencil. She walks up to me and gazes at me with those big, brown eyes. She's about the same height as Chaeyoung and she's wearing a striped sweater and dress overalls.

"There you go", I used the same hastily signature that I gave to Chaeyoung years ago and I handed back the piece of printer paper to her.

"Woah! It's true! Your signature really is identical to the one that Chaeyoung showed me during class!" the small girl stretches her arms to hold my autograph in front of her face, rising it up to the light above, "Thank you so much! Dr. Schmidhuber will be waiting for you down that hall."

"Thanks", I trot towards the direction where Umji's finger is pointing.

Hospital rooms, or at least this room, are so creepy. Its walls are simply cream — not peeling or dingy — just cream. There are no decorations at all, save for the limp pale purple curtain that separates the room from the hallway. An old TV set hangs from the ceiling but then I started to press random buttons on the remote and nothing turned up on the screen. It's broken. It's just how I imagined it in horror films. I don't feel even remotely comfortable chainging into a hospital gown knowing that there's no goddamn door.

"There she is!" Dr. Schmidhuber crosses the room to greet me. Thankfully, I'm already clothed in my hospital gown.

He was this short German man in a lab coat with sideburns and a thick beard. Karen Fujii would've assumed that he was some freakish psycho or crazed surgeon like how horror movies would commonly depict German doctors, like that guy in Human Centipede. Jun and the other boys in my section dragged me to AMC down at Lincoln Square just so we could watch Human Centipede.

I am never watching that movie ever again.

Dr. Schmidhuber is trying to engage in a casual conversation with me about my studies and that one solo I had during opening night. He claims that he's trying to get me comfortable in this sort of environment, yet I can't help but feel that I'm going to get drugged any minute now. Half of the time, I just kept nodding to his every word as to not offend him. I wasn't really paying attention to his inquires unless it had something to do with my health, in which questions pertaining to that subject only came around ten percent of the time.

"So" he finally begins, fishing out a pen from his coat pocket while writing behind a transparent clipboard, "Have you been experiencing any weird symptoms lately? You certianly didn't look that well during opening night."

"Well, you see. I always feel this ringing noise in my ears", I tried to not sound rude but he really needs to stop bringing up my performance.

"In which ear?"

"Sometimes the left ear, sometimes the right ear, sometimes both", I explain and he jots down some notes, "From time to time, I'll get migraines or  I feel dizzy or my facial muscles will start to hurt. It's very bothersome and inconvenient for me whenever I try to practice because then I have to put my bassoon down and wait until the pain subsides. And sometimes, the symptoms will come while I'm in rehearsals and I can't do anything about it. I started to have these symptoms when I was in high school but it wasn't as bad until now."

"Hmm... I can't pinpoint what you might be having", Dr. Schmidhuber talks slowly, rapidly writing down what I've just said, "We may need to perform a CT scan on your head so that we could figure out what's wrong with you. But first, a female nurse will have to perform a check-up." 

I glance over at the clock, "And when will that be?"

"We can do it right now", he grins and I felt my comfort sink into the floor, "I'll go fetch Nurse Lui."

Oh great. I haven't had a check-up in years so I can't predict if there's something wrong with me or not.

My check-up is fast yet unsettling because Nurse Lui touched me in places where I didn't want to get touched, and she's not gentle either. Nurse Lui is this tall asian woman who had the posture of a soldier. Every action she took was precise and purposeful, yet she smiled in the cold and distant way that my parents and other professors at this school do. I could never bring myself to relax around such expressions even though I practically grew up with people in that category. So far, I haven't met an inviting face in this darned institution at all and it renders me restless.

Dr. Schmidhuber didn't take very long to go over the procedures needed for my CT scan. Before I was directed to lie on the table, Nurse Lui gave me this white substance called "contrast material" for me to gulp down. The liquid tasted disgusting, like the paint that they used on the walls. But it couldn't have been worse than the clear dye that Nurse Lui injected into my left arm. Now I can't move it.

As I'm lying down under the large, donut-shaped machine that's supposed to use X-rays to take pictures of my body, I could only hear Dr. Schmidhuber, Nurse Lui, and a couple of other unnamed doctors having a consultation about some hazy blob around my brain.

Is there really something wrong with me?

Dr. Schmidhuber allows me to sit up and change into my regular clothes after the procedure was over. Then Nurse Lui hands over a glass of water for me to cleanse out the repulsive after taste of the contrast material. After I'm back in my regular clothes, Dr. Schmidhuber walks back into the designated room where Umji had assigned me to go to two hours ago. 

"Mina", he begins, lowering his voice, "Come back on Friday. Our team can't quite identify what's wrong with your brain yet."

The Forty-Fourth Measure

Well this .

I couldn't bring myself to practice today because my left arm felt so sore from that shot, I felt a knifelike pain whenever I tried to lift my bassoon. In the end, I had to disassemble it and leave the practice room even though I scheduled to occupy that room for at least an hour.

"Oh, Mina! Wanna eat brunch with me and Chaeyoung?" Sana noticed me exiting the practice room.

I don't really have anything else to do. I finished all of the homework that I needed to do and I haven't had breakfast yet.

"Sure", I said.

When Sana brought up brunch, I thought that she meant that the three of us were going to hit up at a restaurant or a café so we could grab some coffee or bagels. Turns out that Sana planned to take the subway to Chaeyoung's tiny two-bedroom apartment on West 34th Street, one of those types of living spaces that you'd find on Airbnb listings. Chaeyoung's parents were at work so me, Sana, and Chaeyoung had the entire apartment room to ourselves. The atmosphere was still and calm and I love it. I never had the luxury of being in a quiet space for an extended period of time because I live in a large dormitory with eight horn players including Sana, Chaekyung, and Shuuka's boyfriend, Yuta Nakamoto. 

Chaeyoung — still dressed in her 'Winnie the Pooh' pajama pants, a matching baggy sweatshirt, and her hair tied up in an 'apple' style — headed to the kitchen and whipped up a batch of chocolate chip cookies and hot chocolate, not your average brunch meal. As she waited for the cookie dough to rise, Sana switched on the television and looked for something intriguing to watch when she landed on ANTM (America's Next Top Model).

"You have a really nice place, Chaeyoung", I made a comment. She didn't reply.

Oh duh, Mina. She's deaf.

Fortunately, Sana was there to translate my words for the shorter girl by using sign language. Chaeyoung smiled at me and nodded as a way of saying thanks. A good occurance that I could acknowledge after calling out Reina was that the percussionist was happy to have my company, maybe becayse I defended her. Sana isn't as mad at me now as she was before and I'm not peeved in the slightest when she's in our dorm room.

And Nayeon, I'm not so sure. I've been too busy and too tired to engage in an argument with her during Pops Orchestra rehearsals.

Sana gestures something to Chaeyoung and I all can do is watch the two girls communicate.

"Chaeng has your meal ready", she told me.

The three of us sat in the dining table across from the kitchenette. If there's one idea that Sana and I can both agree upon, it's that Chaeyoung is a fantastic cook. Sana gladly received the warm cookie and stuffed it gleefully in . The rich, chewy texture of the cookie dough blended beautifully with the warm, gooey chocolate chips encrusted in its fine shell. It gave yeah the heartwarming, sentimental feeling of being home with family on the holidays. In short, Chaeyoung's chocolate chip cookies were like pure, unadulterated happiness that one can hold in their hands.

Sana turned off the television so that she could talk to me, "I'm very proud of you for what you did last night."

I was flustered, "What I did last night?"

"Standing up for Chaeyoung", Sana smiled, setting her coffee mug down.

Oh.

"Chaeyoung wanted to invite you over to her place as a way to say 'thank you' and all", Sana explains truthfully and the tiny percussionist just grins at the two of us. She probably doesn't understand a single word that we're saying.

"Hey, Mina", Sana began after swallowing her cookie, "Are you interested in becoming an office aide with me for the Disability Resources Center?"

Oh come on. Not right now.

"I... I'm kind of busy. With orchestra rehearsals and classes and stuff", I tried to act as nicely and politely as I can.

"Oh..." Sana's voice trailed off, slightly disappointed, "It's just that Chaeyoung and I wanted to bond with you more."

Oh crap. Am I a terrible person for saying that?

Now that I think about it, it kind of having this language barrier between me and Chaeyoung because I can't properly express my feelings and intentions to her and vice versa. Sana always acted as the figurative "bridge" to our two separate borders. We accumulated this never-ending cycle of translation. and explanation. Whenever the three of us would try to have an adequate conversation at the dining table, it started off with Sana bringing up a topic, speakign to me and then translating her message to Chaeyoung. If I spoke, Sana would have to convert my words to sign language for Chaeyoung. If Chaeyoung wanted to say something, she'd show it with her hands and then Sana would have to speak to me.

"Mina, what time is your next class?" Sana changes the subject while she washed her plate at Chaeyoung's kitchenette sink.

I whip out my phone from my coat pocket to check the "Reminders" app, "My piano lesson got canceled today so I only have to worry about Juilliard Orchestra rehearsals for tonight."

"Does your left arm still hurt?"

I tried to flex the elbow of my left arm and the stinging pain from that injection still remained, "I don't think I can practice yet."

"You can stay here with us while your arm heals", she offers and Chaeyoung gives a 'thumbs up' in agreement.

Spending time with Sana and Chaeyoung went smoothly to say the least. It was my first time watching ANTM so Sana had to give me a breakdown on the show's format as well as the contestants and the judges. Luckily, the show replayed some older episodes and we were on the first episode of Cycle 13. The catch phrase is "'The Lineup Is 5' 7" And Under. Not The Usual Suspects. BOOK 'EM!". The meaning of the title implies that the show is looking for models under the height of 5'7" as the norm indirectly implies that the the height of supermodels range above that measurement. I never thought that I could feel more conscious about my height than I did before, but the episode portrayed short people (Like me and Chaeyoung) in a way that supported short people and made me feel a little bit better about the way that I looked.

After the episode ended, we moved on to video games so that the percussionist wouldn't fall asleep watching pretty people strut down walkways. Chaeyoung supplied a large amount of games and consoles, both old and new, from her bedroom closet. Gaming happened to be part of Chaeyoung's expertise other than dabbling and tinkering at percussion instruments.

She taught me the basics of the hit Nintendo game, Super Smash Bros. Brawl, and the basic controls. The thought of holding a Gamecube controller in my hands and pressing random buttons was an odd occurrance to me because I've never played video games before even though most of my classmates did. We started on a new file and the two of us went over the entire Subspace Emissary from the beginning, on easy mode much to my liking. While Chaeyoung enjoyed playing agile characters such as Pikachu and Sonic the Hedgehog, I just focused on seemingly good-looking figures like Marth even though in reality, none of the playable characters piqued my interests. Sana commented that I was adjusting to the controls faster than an average beginner despite having began by pressing random buttons in the beginning, causing Chaeyoung to joke about me having "prodigy" hands. I've only considered myself as a fast learner who picks up concepts and pieces puzzles together easily. That's why I didn't take very long to master the clarinet and one of the most notoriously confusing woodwind instruments to learn, the damn bassoon.

I didn't think that I would get this distracted, having fun with these two today than I ever did when I hung out with the Spectacular Six for years.

Actually, I'd rather call them "The Six" because I don't see them as quite spectacular.

Chaeyoung indicates something to Sana and then she turns to me, "Chaeyoung is wondering about what drove you to defend her and not Reina."

"I-I don't know", I stutter, "I guess that I was just mad at her that one night we ate dinner and I let my anger get to me on Monday."

"She's not going to talk to you ever again, right?" Sana predicts.

"Might be worse", my voice came out wobbly and perhaps Sana didn't hear my last word.

"Huh?"

"Nothing..." I faltered, "What time is it right now?"

"6 p.m." Sana coolly glanced at her phone screen.

"Oh shoot! We have Juilliard Orchestra rehearsals in an hour", I've just realized that I hadn't kept track of time. I didn't even get a chance to squeeze in some practice time after my left arm had healed. Great. I guess that I'm going to have to sight-read Polovstian Dances during rehearsals.

"You were having fun with us, huh?" Sana badgered me by pulling on my cheek.

"What the— Stop that!" I command, maneuvering her hand away from my face. I don't want to admit that I've lightened up to them yet.

The Forty-Fifth Measure

"Do you know which train to take?" I ask Sana, walking down the stairs that leading us to the underground entrance of 34th Street—Penn Station.

She stared at me, unbelievingly, "You grew up in New York City and you don't know which train to take?"

"Are you kidding me? I hate using the subway", I groaned.

"Why?"

"Some jackass stoner kid tried to steal my bassoon."

Sana was cracking up, "Who would try to steal a bassoon?"

I shrugged, "He thought that I was a walking store."

If there's anything that I hate even more than the subway station itself, it's riding in the damn train. Complaining about the trains was a favorite pastime for New Yorkers, especially native New Yorkers like me and my parents. I used to take the subway to get to my elementary school and middle school. Other than Tokyo or any other big city in Asia, New York City is infamous for having one of the most congested subways on earth and commuters commonly refer to it as "the city beneath the city" because of the bustling crowds and the countless street performers huddled underground. It's not just during rush hour when the passengers are shoving themselves into train cars — the crowding can happen during any given time of the day. There can be over a thousand people on a subway train. There can be fifty people trying to get off of a subway car at each stop. A hundred people may be trying to go up or down a staircase or escalator at any given time and they don't want to be pestered. 

The three of us chose the worst-possible train to get to Juilliard — The 1 Train (Referred to simply as "The 1"). It only takes four stops until we get off on 66th Street and the Lincoln Center, but the second stop is Times Square and that landmark is cluttered with tourists who know nothing about the unspoken rules of the metro. You're not supposed to squeeze yourself into the subway car if it has reached maximum capacity. Doin that would leave the train doors open, meaning that the train won't leave until the doors are fully closed, and you'd just be wasting time for those who are dying to go home after they've carried out one stressful day in their professional lives. If there's no room, wait for the next damn train to come.

And what do they do? Shove themselves into the train and waste our time. 

I'm having a massive headache and I can barely breathe. The conditions of the train became incredibly insufferable as there were about a hundred people in our subway car, 30% of whom were probably tourists. Their voices, in several different languages, boomed over the intercom speakers that informed riders of what station they're getting off. Towering figures in heavy coats obscured my view and I lost sight of Sana and Chaeyoung. 

I might seem like I'm 5'5' or 5'6" because I wear shoes with insoles, platforms, heck even heels. I'm actually only 5'3" and most of the girls at Juilliard are about Sana's height, like 5'6" or 5'7", the average height of dance majors being slightly taller. Therefore, I'm considered slightly below average in terms of height. Chaeyoung? Even less. That girl is about 5'1" and others would've viewed her as a sixth grader at first glance. 

"Sana! Chaeyoung!" I shouted over the passengers, but my small voice didn't come through. I don't even know which stop I should get off on.

God, I wish that I had a more audible voice.

I tried again, a little louder than before, "Sana! Chae—"

"Shut your goddamn trap!" A peeved passenger snarled at me. Luckily, I couldn't see his figure or else I would've sacked him in the face.

Oh yeah. Another unspoken rule of the NYC metro? Use your inside voice. 

"MINA! We're here!" Sana shouted, pulling me out of the subway car by yanking my arm until my boots hit the steel platform underneath. The unflattering lights of our subway car flickered and then the train took off into the dark, underground tunnels.

"We need to get to rehearsals", I slung my instrument case over my shoulder after having sat on it for the duration of the train ride.

In a brisk walking pace, the three of us advanced towards the elevator that would provide us access to the Lincoln Center of Performing Arts. and then the Alice Tully Hall to the west. I don't know why, but my brain delivered to me this bizarre perception that we were being followed. All I could remember from that train ride was that I was leaning next to a middle-aged man with dark skin and dreadlocks.

"Sorry!" the man that I had in thought sprinted past me with a case that could've been anymore similiar to my—

Wait a minute.

That's my bassoon.

That man stole my bassoon.

"HEY! GET BACK HERE!" I evaded the elevator entrance and darted up the extensive staircase to chase the thief. What didn't come to my mind was the fact that I was wearing designer knee-high boots with heels, and that those boots would be the downfall of my hunt as I slipped up the stairs.

Eventually, I reached the sidewalk and Sana and Chaeyoung had just exited the elevator with perplexed looks on their faces.

"Mina, what happened?" Sana asked.

"SOMEBODY STOLE MY BA—"

On spur of the moment, Son Chaeyoung dropped her belongings and started to follow the man that I was pointing at. The whole chasing scene became a game of cat and mouse. Yet I didn't expect Chaeyoung to be such a fast runner. She took off at the speed of light, hunting down the pickpocket in her Puma high tops and not sparing a single break between spurts. Sana and I dragged behind to catch up with the percussionist.

He took a glance in our direction, "What are you d—"

Sana and I were just two blocks away from the fight, but we witnessed their every move. Chaeyoung threw herself onto the dreadlocked thief and I could only scream when he bared a sharp dagger from a knife guard attached to his belt. He attempted to stab Chaeyoung and I was scared less. But she instantly grabs him by the neck, causing him the flinch backwards and allowing herself to avoid the slash.

"What is going on?" I ask Sana, still running and trying to catch my breath.

"Chaeyoung's father is a Taekwondo instructor", Sana discloses.

Wow. Chaeyoung isn't as vulnerable as I thought.

The small girl swung back around and gave the thief a fast and impacting kick in the ribs, He howled in torment but still raced towards her. Chaeyoung gave him a sharp punch to the jaw, powerful enough to knock him out. By the time Sana and I arrived at the scene, Chaeyoung had my bassoon case hugged in her arms, not a single wound carved on her pure face from the thief's dagger. The rumble between the two would soon call the attention of the cops. Turns out that the dreadlocked man had committed many acts of theft before and I wasn't his only victim.

"Thanks... really..." I tell Chaeyoung as she hands the case back to me with a smile. I'm nearly in tears at the thought of almost losing my bassoon. As the instrument case reaches my arms, I start to affectionately hug it and sob into it. Chaeyoung was giggling at me in the background.

Sana gestures to Chaeyoung and then turns to me, "Chaeyoung says that she was glad to help, especially after you defended her in rehearsals."

"I'm never losing you ever again!" I talk to my bassoon almost as if it's a person.

"You're revealing your soft side, Myoui", Sana teased.

The Forty-Sixth Measure 

Juillard Orchestra rehearsals went swell. Reina wasn't here today and I was able to traipse my way through Polovstian Dances without actually practicing. I've never procrastinated before so I was fearful of the outcome, but frankly I'm surprised that everything went well.

Now it's time for Pops Orchestra rehearsals.

Never in my entire Juilliard career has Maestro Gilbert ever called for sectionals — a gathering where people within the same sections get together and go over each other parts and make the necessary tweaks if there are any technical difficulties. There was never a need for that in the Juilliard Orchestra because everyone is expected to be at their A-game, follow the score accordingly, and create a collective, homogenous sound.

Apparently, the Pops Orchestra begs to differ. Maestro Ishii formulated a plan where each section would group together and go over their parts in My Neighbor Totoro. Everybody attentively followed her directions and dispersed within their respective instrument group.

My group remained inside because the freezing cold from outside wouldn't be suitable for our temperature-sensitive instruments. The main stage was occupied by the first violins and the percussion section, so me, Yerin, and SinB followed Mark and Junior to a place within the Alice Tully Hall that they claimed was "the perfect hideout" — the staircase. And I'm not talking about those velvety steps at the front lobby where guests can be ushered to the balcony seats and whatnot; I'm talking about thost dusty ones leading to the trap room downstairs, where there's a number of dangerous electrical equipment lying around and extra stage floors looming all over our heads like ghosts.

"Is this place where you two get together and put the wand in the Chamber of Secrets?" SinB inquires the two boys in our section, using a euphemism most often used by Harry Potter fans to imply ual . I only know about this term thanks to Mingyu.

"Shut the up, Hwang Eunbi", Mark chides.

I knew that "SinB" wasn't her real name.

"Woah", Yerin gasps in awe, like an excited four year-old girl, "This place reminds me of that freaky elevator ride at Disney World. The one that keeps going up and down and up and down and up and down and..."

The words 'up and down' make SinB, Mark, and Junior snicker like immature middle schoolers.

"All of you, shut your mouths and get focused on practice", I don't waste any time assembling my bassoon and I prop my sheet music on the music stand that I latched from upstairs.

Maestro Ishii arranged for each section of the orchestra to have their own feature during Sanpo (Stroll), one of the original soundtracks from Totoro. This means that my entire bassoon section will have our little verse at some point during the happy-go-lucky piece. Therefore, I'm keen on getting all of my members to play up to standard before the entire orchestra rehearses together. I'm not going to get humiliated this time.

I take a deep breath and—

*CLACK*

"!" I scream as a wooden floorboard flies from the ceiling and drops dead onto the ground, only a few inches away from my head. My reed falls behind my teeth and scrapes the roof of my mouth. I was an inch close to actually choking on that piece of cane.

"Oh yeah, Mina. For the record, that's normal here", Junior casually grins and I'm about to punch him square in the nuts for endangering my life.

"If that large platform hits me upside on the head, I'm making you pay for my medical bill", I jeer at him. I've dealt with enough today.

"I can pay for it", he brags.

I pay no mind to his cocky remark and I fixate my eyes on the score again, my lips before pulling them over my teeth, placing the reed in, and then creating a seal with my lips. Yerin, Junior, and SinB come in a few seconds late and Mark, the contrabassoonist, is lost in his own head as to where we are. At the end of the short section, I stopped playing and inhaled a sharp breath, not knowing what to do with these numskulls.

"Can we try that again?" I asked sweetly, feigning a gentle smile.

My section complied and we played the short section together again. And again. And again.

"Can I hear you guys play again?" I command.

"Sure!" my section chants in unison.

"Individually?"

The four of them were spooked. None of them wanted to be put on the spot, but I did anyways.

The idea of having each member of the section play one-by-one was a ploy that I most frequently used with Mingyu, Joshua, Vernon, and Jun when I felt that they weren't taking rehearsals seriously enough. It was a successful trick to scare Joshua into actually practicing outside of class rather than holing himself up in his dorm room to play League of Legends with Mingyu and Vernon or watch with Jun.

I then halted my own playing to inspect the other members: Junior can't hit the low notes, Mark is just 'okay' yet he's not using enough air to fill up the contrabassoon, and Yerin must be playing on a y reed because she sounds too sharp. I figured that SinB was the worst among all five of us because she can't even get the basic embouchure down — you're supposed to cover your teeth with your lips so that you don't bite down on the reed and destroy it, but she's gnawing on it like a rabbit. How the heck did she even get accepted into this school? Did she bribe the president or use some other ludicrous tactic to get in? This girl is a mindboggler.

"Did any of you guys warm up beforehand?" it's apparent my patience was wearing thin, but I hide my anger in the end. "Like, at all?"

"I practiced for five minutes!" Yerin announced as if it were a good thing, when it's actually not.

"I tried", SinB faltered.

"I forgot." Mark shrugged.

"I don't need to warm up", Junior said with a smug look on his face.

Is this seriously how they function?

"Well... let's just— OH !" A striking pain blew through the left side of my head, like a balloon bursting after it has reached its limits. After the bang, there was this brief moment of silence before the piercing ring in my ear commenced.

"Mina, what happened?" I could faintly hear Yerin's voice through my right ear.

"I... I need to use the restroom", I tucked my score under my arm so that I could use both hands to carry my bassoon up the stairs.

On my way to the backstage area, I drifted by the horn section, in which all of its members are sitting on the floor and laughing at each other. Sana was sitting at the head of their circle, her eyes reading of relaxed joy and unrestrainted mirth. I didn't know what they were laughing at, but every single member looks so relaxed and contented. They look like they're having fun. I wonder how Sana's section functions on a regular basis? After a few seconds of Sana's section joking around, I regained some of my hearing and could hear them rehearse their verse in Sanpo (Stroll).

And they sound so good. The low horns act as a substantial support system for the high horns, and their united joyous music wades into my cerebral cortex, so upbeat yet so pleasant. Every single player stands out, and Sana shines even brighter. It's astounding how much her mood influences her music, compared to Juilliard Orchestra rehearsals where Maestro would tell her to hold back in the third movement of Mahler Five.

"Mina!" Sana noticed, supporting herself off the floor and leaving the circle of horn players.

"Oh, hello", I acknowledged.

"What are you doing here?"

I pull Sana behind the red curtains so that we could have a confidential conversation, just the two of us and nobody else, "Remember what I told you earlier today? I felt that ringing sensation in my ears again. But this time, it was even louder."

Sana's facial expression changed, "Do you need to go to the infirmiry?"

"That's the thing! What if Dr. Schmidhuber tells my parents about this?"

"So what if he tells your parents?" Sana inquired and I was getting frustrated because she didn't get the memo.

"They're going to disown me because I'll be useless to them!" I spat.

The horn player crossed her arms, "But surely, you're not going to pay for the medical bill yourself. So what are you going to do?"

Sana always drives me to this brick wall where she's right and I'm wrong. And then I can't counter her because I don't have any facts or experience to use as backup. I'd hate to admit that she does have a point. I've never had a part-time job before and don't have any means of earning money except from the monthly allowance that my dad gives me, and I have to use that kind of cash for food, laundry, school supplies, instrument maintenance, and what have you. I don't even get to keep the prize money that I win at music competitions because my parents don't trust me with that kind of cash. I can't believe that I'm almost twenty-one years-old and I'm still being tied to a leash. It .

"C'mon Mina. Being a office aide isn't that bad", I knew that she'd bring this topic up again, "You don't get much work and you still get paid."

"I know, but—"

"What are you two doing back here?" Dahyun pokes her head in between two curtains, "Selling your service to Venus?"

I've heard enough euphemisms in one day, "Yeah, we're obviously doing ."

"Doing with the bassoon?" Dahyun doesn't catch my sarcasm and she just stares at my instrument. Oh my god. This girl is so stupid.

"Why are you here?" Sana steps up to ask the double bassist.

"My job is to rally up everyone and I've been searching for you two for ten minutes. Group rehearsals begins in five minutes, you buddies", she tantalizes before disappearing. Dahyun is hilarious. Like Sana and I are ever going to bang each other with our instruments and with our clothes on.

Hah. Like I'll ever do certain things with Sana in my entire life.

Just when I settle down in my chair and drop my reed in its cup, a raspy voice shouts in my ear. "MINA!"

"Jesus!" I jerk my head suddenly and notice SinB standing behind me, "Don't scare me like that!"

SinB starts twiddling with her fingers, "I don't know if you've noticed, but I at playing the bassoon."

"Yeah, I've noticed", I said bluntly.

SinB looked like she was about to cry.

"Uh... uhhh...." Goddammit Mina Myoui. Why can't you be nice for once? "B-But you're not bad! A-Anyways, what did you want to ask me?"

"I'm just wondering if you give lessons. Like, private lessons", she requested.

I've given private lessons before, more clarinet lessons rather than bassoon lessons (Because no kid wanted to play the bassoon. I mean, who would? The bassoon requires an enormous lung capacity, long and agile fingers, and lots of patience — traits that most children don't typically have). I taught five kids aged 10-16 in the pre-college division — four clarinetists and one bassoonist — over the course of my first and second year at Juilliard, all of whom hailed from wealthy families. Rich families have this notion that forcing their kids to play an instrument would make them look good when they apply to Ivy League Schools. My parents make a lot of money too, but the only difference between my parents and other rich parents is that they desired for me to attend Juilliard, which isn't an Ivy League School.

I hated teaching, but of course I couldn't say that aloud because I would've gotten fired. Rich parents have a way of finding a fault in everything people they employed did. I would know because my parents are no exception to that generalization. Three of the five kids that I taught preferred to text and play phone games rather than pay attention to my instructions and practice. Kids shouldn't even have smart phones at that young of an age; I didn't even get my own phone until I was in high school. When the day of the pre-college division showcase arrived and my mentees had to perform, those kids could barely squeak out the entirety of Simple Gifts or Amazing Grace or any other easy- solo that they chose. Their parents blamed me for anything that went wrong even though it wasn't my fault. I felt ecstatic to know that I didn't get any teaching offers for this year.

"So will you be giving out private lessons?" SinB repeated.

Man, should I? I have to rehearse six pieces in the timespan of two weeks. I don't think I can do it.

"Don't you have a designated private teacher for bassoon? Like Dr. Cseszenky or Dr. Holland or Dr. Greenwich or—"

"I'm a dance major", she chewed on the nail of her index finger.

Oh dear god.

I knew that there was something wrong with this girl.

"Er..." What am I going to do with her?

"I played bassoon in concert band and clarinet in my high school marching band!" SinB chirped, as if it would add anything to her credentials, "And if you don't think that I have a good lung capacity, I was a colorguard member for Carolina Crown for five years and counting! Didn't you march before, Mina?"

I wrinkled my brow, "You can't march with a bassoon."

"So do you want to teach me?" SinB re-routed to her original question.

I'm starting to become puzzled, "Why are you even here? Like, in the bassoon section?"

"I'm a huge fan of you!"

Not this again...

"So how much for one lesson?"

"I'm expensive."

"Please, please, please!" SinB kneeled to the ground as if she were trying to kiss my feet. I'm so alarmed at this scene, that I carried my bassoon and stepped back, "I'd do anything to learn from the greatest bassoonist at Juilliard! Heck, even in the world!"

"Four hundred per lesson."

SinB drops a check of four thousand dollars on my lap.

What in the—

"Ten lessons, Myoui", she briefs to me like I didn't know how to do math.

"Where in the hell did you get—"

"Don't worry about how I acquire the money. Daddy has a doctorate and he bought a bassoon for me to learn", SinB talks in the same fashion as Reina does when she brags about her parents and I wanted to puke, "He makes six figures a year. He's your music theory professor too."

"L-Let me think about it", I push the check away from me.

The Forty-Seventh Measure

Friday: October 9, 2020

"Dr. Schmidhuber is waiting for you down that hall", Umji points at the same exact room where I was in a few days ago.

The cream colored walls of the checkup room never failed to give me the creeps. Dr. Schmidhuber and I are sitting in stools facing each other and the jovial old man tried to chitchat with me about frivolous topics such as how I decide what to wear or how to do my makeup for concert nights. I mean, half of my wardrobe is concert black and I always preferred to wear long dresses with lace sleeves. My hair would be tied up in a bun or a ponytail so that I don't catch any hair in my mouth whenever I inhaled in air. I always try to apply enough makeup to cover up imperfections like the little mole on my nose, not too much mascara so that I could read my sheet music, and I never, ever wear lipstick or lip gloss when I'm playing my bassoon. I don't want to risk staining my handmade reeds.

I digress.

"So, Ms. Myoui", Dr. Schmidhuber backtracks and stays on topic, "I need to tell you something."

Of course you do. That's why you called me in here.

"You might need an MRI', he reveals, "Your CT scans are unclear and we need a better foundation to recognize the supposed disease you may be encountering. But there are some complications with the process of acquiring an MRI."

Seriously?

My voice came out small, "I'm sorry? Complications?"

Dr. Schmidhuber sighed, "The Juilliard School's Health Services Center doesn't have that kind of technology. We thought about scheduling an appointment for your MRI at the Columbia University Medical Center. The complications are that your guaranteed health insurance at Juilliard can't cover medical costs outside of school. Considering the fact that you're unemployed, your parents may have to be involved to cover the costs."

My parents can't know that I have to borrow money from them. 

I was shaking in my seat, "Y-You don't need to contact my parents! I'll figure out a way to pay for the medical bill myself."

"And how will you do that?"

"Are you interested in becoming an office aide with me for the Disability Resources Center?"

"So will you be giving out private lessons?"

"I... I'm getting two jobs!" I claimed.

"Really?" His eyes lit up, "What are you going to do?"

My voice was getting shaky, "Like, I... I will be giving private lessons and I'm going to become an office aide for the Disability Resources Center."

"Oh, that's cool!" Dr. Schmidhuber bought my word and then he took out a USB, in which he sandwiched it between the index finger and the thumb of his right hand, "If that's the case, we'll schedule your MRI. I don't know the exact date and time yet but Nurse Lui will shoot you and your roommate an e-mail. I believe that her name is Sana Minatozaki."

Man.

Now I have to give SinB private lessons and work at the Disability Resources Center with Sana and Chaeyoung. But at least I have a way to pay the medical fees without letting my parents know. I wonder how I'm going to balance work with the six pieces that I have to practice in two weeks The Juilliard Orchestra's second concert will be on the 17th of October, and then I have to play in the pit orchestra for the Dance Division's showcase on the 18th of October. I don't know when the Pops Orchestra will be holding their opening night as Jihyo and Momo haven't updated the Pops Orchestra's webpage nor have they sent me any texts regarding that fact. And then there's also midterms.

I wonder how I'm going to live.

BONUS (Lesson Number One)

Saturday: October 10, 2020

Neon lights flash and city cars added to the sound effects with blaring, honking horns. It can be quite busy but the scampering and commotion of the people make the city what it is, New York City. The skyscrapers are immensely tall that just hover over you feeling enclosed, a great feeling. Every building is ignited with hundreds of thousands of rich, vibrant lights and colorful, electronic posters.

"So how did your first lesson with Mina go?" Yerin asked SinB.

Jung Yerin spotted the poor dance major sleeping on a bench outside of the dormitory after her one-hour lesson with Mina Myoui. So she offered to treat SinB out for dinner to regain her energy before Pops Orchestra Rehearsals that night.

Unfortunately, being the broke college girl that Yerin is, the best thing that she could do for SinB was to buy her a cup of coffee from freaking McDonalds. That and french fries — lots of them. SinB doesn't quite understand how a dainty girl like Yerin could demolish a container of large fries within one sitting. SinB had to buy even more fries to satisfy the empty feeling in her stomach. And perhaps the emptiness in her lungs too.

"Hell, but Mina knows her ", Hwang Eunbi's words came out dry.

Yerin was confounded at her implication, "You sound dead. What happened?"

SinB pondered, swirling her cup of coffee with a plastic spoon, "Well..."

------

[Flashback to three hours ago]

SinB arrived a bit too early to the Meredith Wilson Residence Hall from her house on the West Side of Manhattan.  

Mina was already warming up by the time the elevator climbed to the twenty-fifth floor, where her dorm room is. The young girl doesn't understand how Mina Myoui manages to sound so damn beautiful when she plays her bassoon in a low, soft volume. Her tone quality would come out so ethereal and so divine that her bassoon resonated with that of the human voice itself. It wasn't one of those technical pieces that demanded recognition or pleasure, but Mina emitted a sound that called for peacefulness and serenity, one of the most beautiful attributes a human can ever possess. Her bassoon was a lone, baritone voice singing from one of the most beautiful cathedrals in Europe.

"You're early", Mina caught her mentee entranced by her own damn playing.

SinB wasn't even paying attention to the pretty bassoonist standing in front of her, "Oh, ! Hi!"

God damn. Mina looks so elegant up close with her sensuous eyes, expertly-applied makeup, and dark red hair shimmering under the lamp lights on the wall. SinB also doesn't understand how Mina manages to look so well-put-together everyday. Even her clothes look glamorous on a lazy Saturday afternoon — an olive green sweater dress, black stockings, ankle boots, hoop earrings, and gold bangles on her left hand.

"What piece were you just playing in there?" SinB asked.

"Saint-Saëns' Sonata", Mina her lips and SinB finds it so damn attractive.

"Your playing is very beautiful", she complimented.

Mina seemed doubtful for some reason, "Really? It's not perfect, though."

SinB is confused as to why Mina would say that. But just when things couldn't get any better, Mina grasps SinB's with her smooth hand and leads her inside the room. From that moment, SinB feels as if she's been touched by an angel.

She enters and sees that the walls of Mina's dorm room were sprinkled with posters of Yoona and other Japanese boy groups. A desk sat in one corner, littered with wadded up pieces of cane and other reed-making supplies. A few shelves were pushed against the walls and filled with books and music scores. Some books sat on the floor in front of the shelves. Her bassoon was resting on its stand next to the lamp table.

"You like Im Yoona a lot, huh?" SinB questions her mentor.

"No", Mina shook her head, "My roommate does. She's a horn player."

"Oh..."

------

"She held your hand! Oh my god!" Yerin squealed, knocking over her empty cup of coffee with her elbow.

"Dammit, girl. I'm not done yet", SinB scolded, "Now where was I...?"

------

"Wait", Mina pauses and SinB takes the endpiece of her yellow balloon out of . Mina was trying to determine SinB's lung capacity when SinB's balloon doesn't even begin to inflate. The two girls haven't even touched their own bassoons yet. 

"I give up", SinB exhales, almost out of breath, "I can't even blow up a damn balloon."

"Hwang Eunbi, you can't end it there. You can't expect to get a clear note out of a bassoon if you don't even know how to breathe properly", Mina informs. SinB is shocked that Mina would even address her by her legal name.

She sulked, "I thought that I had good lung capacity."

"There's a difference between having good lung capacity and knowing how to use your lungs", Mina stated, her right leg over her left.

"Can you even blow up a balloon?" A dumb question slips from . 

Mina's eyebrow raises to her hairline, "Of course I can."

Mina snatches the deflated yellow balloon from SinB and starts to blow into it herself. It doesn't even take ten seconds for the bassoon virtuoso to fully inflate the balloon. And then the next thing SinB could ever expect, Mina pops the balloon not with a sharp object, but with the air extracted from her lungs. SinB thinks that Mina must have the vital capacity of a whale to be able to pop a balloon with her own breath.

"How did you do that?" She questions dumbfoundedly.

"The problem is that you're breathing from your chest", Mina places her hand just above SinB's s and the dance major is about to go nuts. And then Mina's hand travels down to SinB's stomach and her face feels as hot as a chili pepper. "While you're expelling air with your mouth, you should be intaking air with your nose. The air you breath in through your nose should go all the way down to your belly. Breathe with the diaphragm, and then you should feel your own belly rising up and down."

SinB stares at the cute little mole on Mina's nose, "Breathe with my what?"

"Your diaphragm", Mina repeats,"It's just below your chest cavity."

"Below my what?"

Mina sighs, poking her finger somewhere on SinB's body, indicating the diaphragm, "Right here."

------

"SHE TOUCHED YOUR BODY TOO?" Yerin screamed, frightening the customers sitting close to their table.

SinB shoved a french fry into her friend's mouth, "Shut up!" 

"But still, I can't believe that you can't blow up a balloon!" Yerin's laugh is so loud that her own voice could fill up the entire facility.

"Can't you learn to keep your voice down?" SinB scolded, "And besides, can you even blow up a balloon?"

"Of course I can!" she uses the same response as Mina.

SinB pulled out the yellow balloon from her purse and handed it over to her rambunctious friend. The yellow balloon looked exhausted and drained and sad, until Yerin put it to her lips and started to blow into it. She doesn't inflate the balloon as fast as Mina does, and she doesn't pop the balloon like Mina did either, but she still manages to enlarge the yellow balloon to its normal size. 

" you, Yerin", SinB muttered, on her straw.

"What? I've been playing the bassoon longer than you have!" Yerin defends, handing the now inflated balloon back to SinB.

"I'm never going to get better at this stupidly hard instrument", SinB stares at her own case sitting on the chair across from her.

As if drunken by the single cup of coffee that she consumed, Yerin stood up on her chair, raised her cup, and declared, "Hah! Why are we talking about such depressing matters now? Let's celebrate your victory in earning fourth chair bassoon in the Pops Orchestra!"

"Fourth ing chair", SinB repeats morbidly, "That means that I'm the worst player."

Her friend attempted to sound optimistic, "But at least you have some experience playing musical instruments."

"I'm seriously kicking myself for not becoming a music major in the first place", SinB's head falls to the surface of the table.

Characters