ARC ONE

allegro
Origin: Italian
Cheerful or brisk, but commonly interpreted as lively, fast.

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.

A/N: The syntax for ASL (American Signed Language) and English are different, so therefore they are not the same language. Just because the words are italicized using the English syntax does not mean that ASL users utilize this sentence structure in signing (For example, you say "I am going home" in English. but in ASL it is formatted as "ME GO HOME"). Proper nouns (e.g. Mina, Chaeyoung, Beethoven, Oreos, etc.) and other words (e.g. Happy Hour) are finger-spelled, meaning that they spell out the words with the sign for each letter.

The Fifty-First Measure

Wednesday: October 14, 2020

Chaeyoung smiled at me, "Your skills are getting better."

For the remainder of our 7:00 a.m. shift at the Disability Center that day, I practiced my sign language skills with Chaeyoung. I was startled by the fact that I would enjoy this session. Sign language is a beautiful language because it doesn't require using your voice. I could still make connections to Chaeyoung even in complete silence, an amenity that I earnestly enjoy. We had our own form of conversation and me, Sana, and Chaeyoung could share stories and tell secrets without anyone else knowing. The hand movements graceful in the sense that they're expressive, like sculpting in thin air, or perhaps like dance where you articulate your emotions with body movements.

I'm very aggressive about how I learn. I stay up all night studying sign language, that sometimes I forget to do my regular homework and I end up doing it two hours before the class that correlates with that said assignment.

I've also been taking those every day online courses to hone my skills even more. I'm still a beginner but if I work diligently, I think I can bring myself up to an intermediate level. I've always been a fast learner ever since I first engaged myself in music. Sign language is also not as difficult as Japanese, but it's not easy either; it's very complex. There are three main forms of sign language: ASL, PSE, and SEE. American Sign Language (ASL), which is used by many deaf people in the United States, promotes assimilation into the deaf community. Pidgin Sign Language (PSE) is a combination of ASL and English and it uses English syntax. People who learn to sign later in life often use it. Signing Exact English (SEE) uses ASL signs complemented with special signs or inflections that allow English to be signed exactly as it is spoken. I use PSE for now, but I'm learning to use ASL more often. Whenever I address Chaeyoung by her name, I just fingerspell "Chae" instead of "Chaeyoung" because it requires less logography.

"Do you like this school?" Chaeyoung begins, 

I could only give a simplified answer, "Yeah. Good teachers. Good reputation. You?"

Chaeyoung slides a finger to her chin, "I like the classes. Not some of the students here."

"I see."

She sulked in the wheelie chair, "Pops Orchestra rehearsals are more fun. I feel bad for Sana too."

Oh. Speaking of Sana, she hasn't conversed with me nor Chaeyoung in the past five days. Even though she claims to have forgotten about what happened during that Sunday night, his contemning word choice towards Sana kept ringing in my head as if there was a tape recorder implemented inside my brain. Since Chaeyoung and I noticed her saddened expression, we ceased our little conversation.

Clearly, something had been bugging her and I concluded that it is because Kirill Petrenko, our guest conductor and the chief conductor of her favorite orchestra a.k.a The Berlin Philharmonic, harshly criticized her. It's like me doing a bad deed to a fan like Chaeyoung, whom I didn't forget was a huge admirer of me in the past. Sana usually doesn't get berated during Pops Orchestra rehearsals so she's probably not used to the tense and demanding atmosphere that the Juilliard Orchestra is widely known for. 

The shorter girl's eyes twinkle under the fluorescent lights, "I know what could make Sana cheer up!"

"What?"

"Come with me", she coaxes. And then the tiny girl uses her robust arms to shove Sana off her chair so that she could get up.

"Chaeng!" Sana dramatically began and I could actually read her hand gestures now, "What are you doing?"

For the rest of their talk, I couldn't translate Chaeyoung's gestures in my head. I've only managed to pick up a couple of key words such as "school", "bus stop", and "walk". Sana's facial expressions read of subtle agreement to whatever Chaeyoung was telling her.

"Chaeyoung says that she has to go and pick up her two little cousins from the bus stop", Sana explains to me, "Apparently, they got on the wrong bus to get to their elementary school and they need a guardian to walk them to school before they're late."

"So, we're going to follow her?"  

"Chaeyoung's little cousins are adorbs! You should meet them!" Sana exclaims, somehow fluctuating from her previous dismal mood to a spright one.

I scratched my head, contemplating, "That's fine but I have lessons in three hours." 

"Oh, don't worry! The elementary school isn't far", Sana ensures.

The Fifty-Second Measure

This morning in New York City felt like a dream. At around 6:30 a.m., the scarlet red sky splashed across the horizon, painting the colors of the Juilliard fountain a deep hue of purple. Sure the sun wasn't out yet, but it was an amazing sight for me. Typically, I'm used to waking up early despite the lack of sleep that I get from practicing and completing my workload of homework. And whenever I do decide to wake up early, I would hole myself in the practice room until classes began and I don't take in the time to absorb my outer surroundings.

As for Sana, she'd get up early and play games on her iPhone or on her Nintendo DS before preparing herself for school in the morning, like the typical nerd she is. However, our morning situations was different compared to most days.

"Hey! It's Mina!" two petite girls, clothed in white button-downs and blue suspender skirts, dash up to me and each hug my waist.

"Wh-what?"

"Mina, meet Lee Chaeyeon and Lee Chaeryeong", Sana greets, "They're Chaeyoung's little cousins. Chaeyeon is in the sixth grade and Chaeryeong is in the fifth grade. They both play the flute in their elementary school's concert band. They're huge fans of you too."

Again?

"We watched your performance at the Juilliard Orchestra's opening night! It was spectacular!" Chaeyeon began, still hugging me tightly.

The other girl, whom I assumed was Chaeryeong, looked up to me and started to spazz, "Holy fish sticks, you're so beautiful in person! You look like a princess! Can I touch your hair? Pretty pretty pwease?"

"Um..." I tried to say something but the two girls took abandon to the wind and started brushing strands of my dark red hair.

"You smell like expensive perfume!" Chaeyeon noted, sniffing my hair. Is it going to be like this for the entire walk?

Sana was right, again. Chaeyeon and Chaeryeong's elementary school wasn't that far from Juilliard — just three or four blocks down 67th Street, past the library that Chaeyoung's mother works at. The Special School of Music, established while I was in the fourth grade or so, was formerly a red school-house being repainted with a flashy shade of yellow. What an ugly color, I thought and ironically enough, the color of the sun was theoretically yellow from most perspectives. I stared back at their school building again, and learned from my pre-college mentee that the reason why the school had to be renovated was because the original paint was chipping off and it was all thanks to the annoying little first and second graders frolicking about in the play structure next to the edifice. Everything looked perfectly normal at first glance.

Judging by my familiarity the area, they probably got off the bus two stops early. The Special School of Music is a music school for gifted, young talents from low-income families. I know this school because my parents wanted me to move away from Sana Minatozaki and transfer from my old elementary school to this place. Unforunately back then, they didn't have a bassoon program.

"Hey, you guys! It's Mina Myoui!" one kid yelled to his peers.

"Oh, she's from Juilliard!" his friend pointed out my Juilliard School lanyard drooping from the side pocket of my skinny jeans.

The moment I removed my sunglasses and set it in my glasses case at the gated front entrance, thirty or so kids, from kindergartners to those around Chaeyeon and Chaereyong's age, swarmed up to me like an army of little bees. The younger ones, which is about half of the pack, clung onto my clothes and engulfed me in a large embrace. Sana and Chaeyoung found this scene adorable but I was getting delirious from being touched all over the place. And then one kid tried to hang onto my instrument case.

"Woah! You brought your balloon!" the little kid, who clutched my case, exclaimed, "Can you play it here?"

My eye twitched, "Right now?"

"It's called a buffoon!" another kid with olive eyes corrected.

"No, it's baboon!" a smaller girl with a bob-cut slurred.

"It's a bassoon!" one of the older kids with round glasses said.

This girl with ash blonde hair was jumping up and down, "I wanna hear what a bassoon sounds like!"

Her friend said, "Me too!"

Oh god.

I took a quick glance at Sana and Chaeyoung. Neither of them have their instruments on hand and I'm scared less. I can handle performing on stage in front of thousands of strangers, but performing in the eye of the public and actually knowing who the members of your audience are? That's nervewracking as well. It's almost as if your parents had asked you to play your instrument in front of your cousins and other relatives, a situation that I practically evaded from during Christmas parties and other family gatherings.

What am I even supposed to play for them?

"Play the main theme from My Neighbor Totoro!" Lee Chaeyeon requested, tugging the sleeve of my leather jacket.

"You're going to play it for the Pops Orchestra's opening night, right?" Lee Chaeryeong supposed. How does she know that?

Chaeyoung is smirking at me and Sana is giving me this death stare that read, "You're going to play your bassoon for these little kids, or else I'm going to have to narrate one of our childhood stories — the one about how I drew all over your face with a permanent marker during our fifth grade slumber party." I'm not rocking any boats so I comply and piece together the joints of my bassoon, properly and not drunkenly.

A young violinist, who stood at about three feet and six inches tall, commented on my instrument, "That's what a bassoon looks like? It's huge!"

"That looks like a rocket launcher", a tan-skinned student pointed at the bell of my instrument.

"Or maybe one of those weapons that you use in Call of Duty", his friend said, swinging his trumpet case around.

"Like a bazooka?"

"Yeah!"



After soaking my reed for an adequate amount of time, ran through a couple scales to exercise my facial muscles. Then I in a deep breath and started to play the main theme to My Neighbor Totoro. Thank god it's not cold outside or else I would've sworn to crack a note. I was pleasantly surprised when I heard the notes ring out warm and gentle, nothing turbulent or severe like Jolivet's Concerto or any other virtuosic works that I've played in the past. This feeling of gratuity was different. I'm more enamored by the sound of my bassoon, rather than being smitten at those times I would exhale a sigh of relief after playing a demanding piece. Heck, I like this sound even better than any of those goddamn pieces I've played before. And just when I thought that my face couldn't be any more lit up by this notion of satisfaction, the children even begin to sing.

To-to-ro, Totoro! To-to-ro, Totoro!

Living in the forest trees,
for such a very, very long time!

There you'll be with

To-to-ro, Totoro! To-to-ro, Totoro!

You only see him when your very young,
a magical adventure for you!
It's magic for you.

As I'm playing, I look back at Sana and Chaeyoung, who have humongous smiles on their faces and are clapping along with our music. Chaeyoung probably couldn't hear the music itself, but the whole idea of me enjoying music with the music school children was enough to make her thrilled. Sana was the most emotional one among all of us. She literally broke down once we all huddled in one big group and sang our song even louder, me building up into a great crescendo.  The moment she shed a tear at this sight, Chaeyoung fell with her, laughing as if it wasn't the end of the world. I was mesmerized by this beautiful memory produced by my playing and by the children's singing. 

"THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL!" Sana cried in great affection. Chaeyoung gave me two thumbs-up.

"As expected of Mina", Lee Chaeyeon sings, running up to hug me from behind, "She really knows how to make beautiful music."

"I really love the sound of the bassoon", Chaeryeong praised.

"It sounds like a cello", one kid said.

"I want to play the bassoon when I get older", one of the younger kids expressed.

"Me too!" his friend exclaimed.

And then strolling passerbys stood up with a big round of an applause. All of the kids ran up to shower me with compliments and I can't even begin to explain how happy I am in this moment. This type of ovation delights me more than that New York Times review about my concerto. I feel like I'm in a dream having a truly memorable moment, and I'd never wish to lose it. I felt so much more confidence than I ever did before.

The Fifty-Third Measure

Chaeyoung went to converse with Chaeyeon and Chaeryeong, leaving me and Sana sitting in the same bench at the edge of Central Park, located adjacent to their school. The setting was peaceful yet sublime. The fresh, eliciting atmosphere of pine trees came to my senses. The outdoors were truly breathtaking. Dewdrops hung on blades of grass, towering trees stood like the tall buildings circulating us, crystal watered lakes reflected the auspicious sight of light peaking through the orange trees. I was cleaning my bassoon when Sana returned from one of the park vendors.

"Do you know what I like about the autumn season in New York?", Sana brought up a topic out of dust.

"What is it?", I looked at her in confusion.

The horn player inhaled in some fresh air before setting her instrument case down to talk to me, "In the autumn season, there's always something beautiful to cherish during this time of year."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Oh, just the simple things", she began, bending down to pick up an orange leaf before crumbling it with her fingers, "When I moved back to New York, I've noticed something unique about this season itself that never truly caught my eye before. The crunchiness of the leaves beneath my shoes, the lukewarm chestnuts roasting under a scorching fire, the idea that you can enjoy comfort food in the comfiness of your own room during the midst of the cold season — it gives you that warm, sentimental feeling. Don't you think? I mean, you don’t get that feeling in San Francisco."

I looked at this woman in awe, amazed at her compliance with such simple things like the seasons of the year. I was never analytical to those topics.

"I guess so..." I responded, not knowing what to say next. I never really paid attention to the changing seasons, especially since I always stuck to the same schedule every day.

"Did that thought ever come to your mind when you lived here, Mina?" Sana asked.

"Well, I did feel a sense of complacency when autumn came", I thought, "But I could never interpret that feeling as elaborately as you did".

"I mean, I know it's upsetting to you and mostly others that autumn is also the sign of the beginning of a new school year, especially in this school", Sana said, knowing that she and most people are not compact with the idea of workload piling up and having to wake up early for morning classes.

"I guess you can say that life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall", I stated, peering outside the window at the red-orange pine trees and taking in the morning scent of fresh herbs on the park across from Chaeyeon and Chaeryeong's school campus.

Sana's eyes broadened at that statement, "Did you read The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald or something?"

"Uhhh... no", I answered, "I'm too busy to read books nowadays. All I pretty much do is practice, practice, practice."

"Oh", She sighed, "That quote you mentioned came from that book."

"It was a quote?" I questioned, "I just heard it somewhere, that's all."

"By the way", Sana began, "Do you remember what happened during that one autumn season ten years ago?"

That question immediately caught my attention. Ten years ago? I was in the fifth grade and Reina and the others were already studying music in different countries around the continent of Europe. Nayeon also had a family back then. It was also the year that I switched from the clarinet to the bassoon because I decided to add a little spice to my life. Other than that, I don't recall any other significant memories from that time period.

"What are you talking about?" I stared incredulously at Sana.

"Remember when we first tried out our new instruments?" she inquired, "Remember how much fun we had when we didn't worry too about competitions? Or when we didn't have to worry about getting accepted into Juilliard?"

------

{Flashback to ten years ago]

"C'mon, Mina! You can do it! Push harder!" Sana cheered on as I attempted to get my first note out of a bassoon.

"Sana!" I retracted the double reed away from my mouth, "Stop shouting at me like I'm giving birth!"

Even though I was a fairly competent clarinetist when I was younger, I wasn't the type of kid who started out with strong lungs. I had a weak immune system and fell to pneumonia more frequently than most kids at my school. But my parents still forced me to attend school to maintain a perfect attendance record. At the end of each year, I was awarded with one of those stupid paper certificates that commended a child for never missing a single day of school. It's one of the most ludicrous accolades that I could ever think of; it's basically implying that your kid is a "loser" if they fall into situations that they have no control over, like having to skip class because of an illness or because of family emergencies. 

-----

I still get sick even though I'm almost at the age of twenty-one, especially during the winter and spring seasons. But I couldn't use sickness as an excuse to miss any practice sessions or fall behind in my music studies. I built my lung capacity through cardio workouts and breathing exercises so that I manage to have a decent amount of stamina to perform, even if I get sick. I bet that I'd still have push myself to play with a collapsed lung. 

-----

I tried again, rolling in my lips over my teeth and forcing out even more air than I thought was humanly possible. I felt euphoric when a clear and dark, warm sound rang out of the bassoon. It sounds beautiful — the sonority of a cello mixed in with the timbre of the male human voice.

"Hey!" Sana squealed, "You made a sound!"

"I... I did it", even after one note, I'm still out of breath.

"At least the reed just vibrates for you. I have to vibrate my own lips to get a damn sound", she pouts, staring at the mouthpiece of her horn.

-----

I now recall the day that I pushed out my first note out of a bassoon. I was elated at the fact that I could actually make noise with this tall, lanky instrument. I couldn't wait to produce even more notes so that I could actually play songs on it.

Sana takes in a deep breath before making her big statement, "Sure there should be technicality involved when performing a piece, but it can't paint an entire picture. There has to be an emotional truth. That's why I was severely heartbroken when Maestro Petrenko told me to hold back."

"You're right", I nodded.

"Mina", she grins, flashing the white pearls on her teeth, "You love the bassoon, right?"

"Of course I do", I affirmed, "Why do you think that I decided to major in it?"

"What do you love about your bassoon then?" she challenged.

I've never asked myself that question before.

"I... I love how it sounds", I give a short answer. I still have that thing stting horizontally on my lap, my fingertips carressing its smooth, red maple skin, its silver keys glistening under the New York morning sun. I could see my reflection in some of them.

I could've named a lot more reasons as to why I love the bassoon, like how I don't have to worry about fighting for a first seat spot in an ensemble becuase it's not a popular instrument. Or how I use it as an emotional front where I can vent out how I'm feeling through my own playing. Slow and depressing pieces, fast and furious pieces — you name it. It's an extension of me, comparative to another set of vocal cords.

Oh man. The rush of mixed nervousness and excitement when you step on stage and play, the overwhelming exhilaration of performing in a group and infusing diverse sounds into one, the thrill of having to complete a whole work and still have enough energy to stagger a breath, the chills that run down your spine when you immerse yourself in a poignant piece — these are all the gratifications of music that I've been completely robbed of in the face of stress and competition. When I played my bassoon with those kids, I truly felt that I was having fun.

Dammit. Why am I getting teary-eyed?

"Yeah? What do you love about the horn?" I warded off before Sana could spot a single teardrop dribbling down my right eye.

"Please, Mina", Sana scoffed before declaring her response with great determination and vigor, "Horn is fun! You get to play all the cool parts and blast out notes in most works by Strauss, Mahler, Bruckner, John Williams, and more! It acts as the hero figure in most compositions! And at the same time, it has a warm, gentle voice that can be used in lyrical sections and romantic settings. It's an entertaining and versatile little brass beast."

I choked, "Those words came out of your mouth so easily."

"Well, I'm more open with my feelings", she thoughtfully considered.

"Really?"

"More than you", she jested.

"HEY!" I grumble. Sana was telling the truth though, I just didn't want her to believe that she was right.

Sana allowed herself to sit back on the bench, her laughter beginning to fizzle down to a stark smile, "You know Myoui, you really do perform magnificently. I know that Tonari no Totoro is just a children's piece but your playing radiated with sincerity, tenderness, and kindness. Reminds me of that one scene where Satsuki gave Totoro an umbrella to protect him from the rain. You are Totoro, me and Chaeyoung are Satsuki and Mei, Chaeyoung's cousins and those other elementary school kids are those little dust bunnies that follow you everywhere."

I glowered at her, "Are you calling me a fat and fuzzy creature?"

"What? No!" Sana winced, "And speaking of openness, did you schedule your MRI yet?"

I shrugged, "Nope."

Sana spit out her cherry blossom juice, "Mina! That's important for your health!"

"But what if I can't pay for my treatment?"

"Why can't you borrow money from your parents?" Sana asks unreasonably, "You guys are in the upper class!"

I remember having to have one of my teeth pulled out because it was infected, and the aftermath was just unbearing. The cost to remove my tooth was $300 and the cost to replace my tooth was $3,000. And then I had to get braces during freshman year because my teeth were not straight, which costs another $10,500. I got my braces removed two years ago and the process for that costed $250 and then $800 to get a retainer. My parents were angry at the dentist because my mouth continuously ached and having braces messed up my embouchure. I couldn't practice my bassoon for a week and then it took a couple more weeks to get adjusted to playing again.

"Your immune system has been poor since elementary school. There's something's going on, and there's more to that story than the time you threw up on my shoes while our class was singing the U.S. National Anthem at a school assmebly", she reinforced.

"Mina, your mom says that you're fine. Stop being overdramatic and go to your private lesson."
"Oh honey, you are NOT missing school today!"

"I'm fine, I swear!" I reassure, but Sana isn't so convinced.

Then Chaeyoung returns with her two cousins off her hands. School must've began for them so we walked back to Juilliard. Chaeyoung and I shared a conversation (half through sign language, the other half through texting). Sana didn't see the need to act as our interpreter.

The Fifty-Fourth Measure

Thursday: October 15, 2020

I had just woke up from my rigid slumber when the harsh sunlight battered against my jaded eyes. I entered the kitchenette in our room to grab a quick snack before going off to my music theory class; only to have my small figure collide with the door frame as if it weren't there. My eyelids weren't exactly open all the way; my vision was still swimming in bokeh shapes of optical light as try tries to pinpoint the taller girl standing in front of me.

"Good morning… Sana..." I languidly greeted. I caught a sudden croak in my dull salutation. A sore throat?

Sana set aside her plate to acknowledge her lethargic roommate that is my existence, her brow furrowing with concern as she brushes off the loose strands of my bedheaded hair out of my face, "What happened to your voice? You don't sound good.

"Ufufu...", A soft chuckle escaped my lips like a woman being immersed into the toxicity of alcohol, "Don't worry... I'm fine..."

Oh Jesus. And just when Sana brought up the fact that I had a weak immune system, I wake up with a cold.

The next morning, I found myself coughing into the sleeve of my silk nightgown. Thank god that I wasn't coughing out blood or any other form of diluted secretion. I felt relieved, but she couldn't help but anticipate about what's going to happen next during today's orchestra practice. If Maestro Petrenko keeps working me up like he did on Sunday night, then it's only going to prove nothing but worsen my condition. I clenched my fist before snagging my bassoon case from the top compartment of the miniature book shelf that Sana retained.

"You're going to school today?" upon seeing the sight of my frail self storming out of the room, the startled horn player nearly dropped her egg salad in submission, "Aren't you sick? You're in no condition to go to schoo—"

"I can't afford to miss another music theory class", I said, my voice sounding noticeably scratchy.

That morning, I was stuck with Reina Washio and Park Jihyo in this boring class that most people call Music Theory and Analysis IV. I sat next to Jihyo at the rear end of the classroom. Reina was sitting in the front row like she always does. The lecturer was no other than Professor Irving, a scruffy old man with a monotonous voice that lulled people to sleep. He was so submerged into his lectures, that he'd be unaware of his surroundings around him. Most people can take a two-hour nap during his instruction and still manage to get away with it, especially for those who sat in the back.

"Why are you still in your pajamas?" Jihyo whispered over to me while Dr. Irving rambles about chords.

"No I'm not", I denied in a hoarse voice.

"Uh, yeah you are", Jihyo points out, "And sheesh, you sound horrible. Do you have a frog stuck in your throat?" 

I looked down at the clothes I was wearing; a silk, royal blue nightgown and sky blue pajama shorts imprinted with ducks. I was also astounded to see that my feet were still covered with pink, fuzzy bunny slippers and unmatching socks. Jihyo was right. My morning attire is entirely bizarre; my chosen clothing pieces did not match with each other and my deep red hair was still unkempt from tossing and turning in bed. Some disheveled strands were covering my sleepy-lidded eyes as if I was a shaggy dog, which made Jihyo nearly crack up in front of the entire class.

"Oh... well..." I replied, swiftly awake after viewing my strange outward appearance.

"Anyways, I saw Reina and President Polisi fighting on my way here", Jihyo mentioned, eyeing the concentrated violinist sitting smack in the front desk before fixing her gaze back to mine.

"Reina’s suspension period is over, right?"

"Mhm..." Jihyo nodded, setting her pencil down in front of her notebook, "Did you know about this?"

"Actually, I did. President Polisi discussed her consequences with me and Chaeyoung during our work shift", I explained in a low voice, trying not to make my squeaky voice audible in the quieted atmosphere of Professor Irving's bromidic lesson. "I knew that she was upset after having to fork out seventy-two thousand dollars from her parents’ wallet just to pay back Chaeyoung, but I didn’t think that she would get this upset."

"Is that what it is?"

"I think so..." my voice faltered off at the sound of shuffling footsteps approaching our tables.

Usually when Dr. Irving advances towards a student, he intends to ask that person a question to insure that he/she was paying attention to his lecture. It was one of his rarest moments, but also one of the most crucial moments in his music theory class. If that person were to give the incorrect answer, the old man would babble about that student's negligence and unwillingness to work for the entire class session. There was one instance where he made one student cry for not responding at all (Hint. Hint. That student was Jung Yerin).

"How about we discuss this topic with the bassoon player who sleepwalked into my room. Ms. Myoui, where does the difference in a chord's sound come from and what does it have to do with triads?" He inquired as he tapped his ruler against the rim of my desk.

"Well...", I took a few seconds to think before rambling out my answer, "The difference in a chord's sound comes from the intervals between the root position notes of the chord. The most commonly used triads form major chords and minor chords... umm... and all major and minor chords have an interval of a perfect fifth between the root and the fifth of the chord. Thus, if the perfect fifth is divided into a major (minor) third; for example, four or three half steps, then the triad is a major (minor) third... right?"

"Correct", Dr. Irving said, "Can you add to that Ms. Park? Do augmented and diminished chords contain a perfect fifth?"

"Huh?" Jihyo spanned over her notebook before realizing that she didn't copy down any notes.

"Charming yet stupid", He immediately brushed off before heading towards the whiteboard with a thick red marker, "Okay class, I'm going to explain to you about augmented and diminished chords. Augmented and diminished chords do NOT contain a perfect fifth. An augmented (diminished) chord is built from two major (minor) thirds, which also adds up to an augmented (diminished) fifth..."

Jihyo buried her ashamed face into her arms, her muffled voice reaching into my ears, "Sorry Mina. I got you distracted."

"It's okay", I said, "I was about to fall asleep anyways."

The Fifty-Fifth Measure 

After the Juilliard's Pre-College Division executed a congratulatory party for their opening night, Kai made the members of the Juilliard Orchestra tidy up and prepare for practice. Since Maestro Petrenko decided to go on a so-called "blind" date in Times Square with a music history professor from the Conservatoire de Paris, he made it up to Kai to do whatever he wants with the orchestra while he was gone. After all, he is the concertmaster and the second-in-command. Days were nearing for the Juilliard Orchestra's second concert.

And this is what he did.

The orchestra was in the middle of practicing Polovtsian Dances from Borodin's four act opera broadenly known as Prince Igor. Kai was so furious about the aftermath of Petrenko’s hard- criticisms on Sunday night, that he made the orchestra members practice their butts off as soon as they started. Nobody was given a chance to even shower or change into their pajamas; some people reeked of alcohol scent and nearly half the musicians were intoxicated from the wine they were offered during the Post-Midterm bonanza held at the Meredith Wilson Residence Hall (Luckily, me, Sana, and Chaeyoung learned to NOT get drunk before orchestra practice ever again).

"YAH! Jeon Somi! Fourth clarinet! What are you doing? Can't you see that this measure is marked crescendo and not sforzando? You're supposed to be building up volume, not suddenly playing loud!", Kai shouted at the fidgety clarinetist before turning towards Sana's section, "HORNS, LOUDER! MAKE YOUR INSTRUMENT SING FOR CHRIST'S SAKE!"

"I'd like to see you try and play a horn!", the third chair horn player boldly stands on top of his chair as he addresses the bossy concertmaster in a presumptuous manner. Whenever the conductor or another staff member isn't present, the members take advantage of Kai and treat him just like another student, not some authority figure. Therefore, nobody takes him seriously. "Yeah! Look who's talking now, asshat!"  

"Sit down, Jimin!" Kai ordered, and he was obviously fed up with the orchestra member's bullcrap, "Your mouth should be blowing these notes out of your , not babbling nonsense! I ain’t paying you to write a soap opera!"

“You’re not paying me at all!” he retorts.

"The is he thinking? We can't get any louder than this", Yuta Nakamoto silently groaned to their section leader.

"Shhh!", Sana hushed, "Just play along."

The pair returned to their positions and began playing the chorus line along with the string section. After about an hour of practicing Borodin, Kai  gave the orchestra members a five-minute break while he changed the strings of his violin. I put my hair up in a messy bun, then fanned myself with the music score I was given as Sana propped her down in Mingyu's chair to make eye contact with me.

"Still sick, my little duck?" she vexes, poking my cheek.

"Stop that", I demanded in my hoarse voice, resting my bassoon on its stand so that I could see Sana's face.

"I didn't hear your bassoon today", she noticed.

"Bassoons are not supposed to sound loud and obnoxious", I croaked, "Unlike you."

Sana disregards my shrewd comment and displays a concerned look on her face, "So, Mina. Will you be seeing a doctor anytime soon?"

"No, I'm busy with—" As I'm about to answer, Shuuka Fujii suddenly sways up to me and Sana with her smartphone grasped in her hands. It was one of the most awkward and perplexing moments of my life — having one of your former friends approach you coolly after a controversy.

There was a content smile on her face when she delivered the phone to my hand, "Hey Mina, you mom wants to talk to you. I don’t know why she contacted me but I told her that we were on break at Juilliard Orchestra rehearsals and she’s wondering why you didn’t pick up your phone."

“Mom?" I answered as I held the phone up to my ear, modulating the throaty tone of my voice so that I don't put my mom in a sudden disposition.

"Mina, what the hell?" my mom inquires with an unequivocal hint of audacity that can level up to a business authoritive. 

I was taken aback by her sobering address, "What?"

I could hear my mom sipping on what could be a dapper cup of English tea in all of its prevailing taste, "I'm in Manchester with the New York Philharmonic when your friend, Reina, calls me instating that you were absent for one of your classes because you had to go to the school infirmiry. What was that all about? Why couldn't you just it up and wait until class was over when—"

I hung up the moment mom started ranting, handing the phone back to Shuuka. I began to cry as Shuuka inched further away from me and Sana. I normally don't show tears in the public eye because my parents believed that crying showed a form of weakness, and I hate being weak. I shouldn't be acting like a because I'm supposed to be a musical prodigy that everyone views as daunting and fearless.

"Mina..." Sana didn't have any words to say after listening to our heated conversation.

"See what I mean?" I eyeball the horn player sitting next to me. I found myself tremendously sobbing to the point where I couldn't breathe and I ended up choking on my own words. Talk about having a physical and mental breakdown in one day.

you, Reina.

The Fifty-Sixth Measure 

Pops Orchestra rehearsals ended early so I thought about hiding myself in one of the residence hall's practice rooms before going to bed. I needed to drill in some time to focus on Mozart's Bassoon Concerto in B flat because I have to perform it for my end-of-the-semester jury, and I've spent no time on this concerto whatsoever. The last time I played this bassoon concerto was when I was fourteen years-old and it was for the Gillet-Hugo Fox competition, which I won first prize in my category. I also performed sections of the second movement for my National Youth Orchestra auditions when I was sixteen years-old. This concerto is the most commonly requested piece in orchestra auditions and all professional bassoonists are expected to play this concerto in some point of their career. My piano accompanist, Minyoung, offered to stay up late too.

Ten measures into the first movement, the notes of my bassoon come out wrong. The first movement of this concerto is entitled Allegro, which indicates a quick and spright tempo, but I exhibited none of those qualities. A feeling of uneasiness and fear can be evidently heard in my playing. I seemed to find elegy spewing from my mouth, as my music proved to become more and more depressing.

Minyoung moved her hands away from the keys of the grand piano, "Look, maybe this isn't a good idea."

I ceased my own playing, "What's not a good idea?"

"Mina. You're sick", she restated in her naturally low voice, "You need a lot of rest before you can play efficiently again. Trust me, I got myself into a piano recital with bronchitis and my interpretation of Rachmaninoff consisted of more wheezing than actual music."

"What are you talking about? I'm not sick", I tried to sound as neutral as possible but my voice cracks again. 

Minyoung gives me this blank stare, "As your piano accompanist since Interlochen, I know the difference between Good Mina and Bad Mina. Now, if you decide to leave, which I highly suggest, then I'm going to stay here and work on my jury. But if you decide to hold it on for a little bit longer, then we can work something out. But Mina, please. I swear to god, just take care of yourself and go back to your room. I'll think of you in spirit."

I chuckle, "You're acting like I'm going to dice with death."

"Mina, I'm serious", Minyoung's stone cold face doesn't change, and in fact she's even more stern than before.

I exhale, "I'm not taking a break. I can finish the night, I promise."

The pianist knitted her eyebrows, "You're ting me, right?"

I avoid her query and begin positioning myself with my bassoon. I started to play different scales again, getting my lips to work, moving my jaw to slide up and down octaves. After I feel confident that the inner and outer mechanisms of my mouth are warmed up enough, I return to the section where I left off. I reach the cadenza and things haven't changed on the headache front. But then all at once, I feel unbalanced and my tongue brings to a grinding halt. Oh my god. What's happening to me? I can't feel my face. It's like my mouth muscles decided to shut down.

Minyoung cuts off her piano playing, "Mina, why did you stop?"

I can't even move my mouth. How am I supposed to speak with her?

I take abandon to my phone and type something down in my "Notes" app:

Fetch Dr. Schmidhuber for me. 

Minyoung obeys and sprints out of the practice room to access the Health Services Center on the twenty-second floor. I start packing away my bassoon because I'm positive that I won't need it once Dr. Schmidhuber comes down here.

The Fifty-Seventh Measure

Friday: October 16, 2020

Dr. Schmidhuber ultimately settled on sending me to the ER of Columbia University's Medical Center. All I remember from the entire ambulence ride there was having some kind of face mask enveloping the area from the bridge of my nose to the bottom of my chin. And then watermelon-flavored gas pumped out of a box-shaped machine until I knocked out. I can't share what happened next.

I woke up in the ICU, surrounded by a ton of indescribable equipment and the clamorous beeping noises blaring from within them. There was this smaller kid laying down in the bed next to mine and his existence depended on life support. Seeing this kid had me thinking to myself, Why am I here? What's happening to me? Why am I situated in the same room as a kid who's clinging onto his last moments of living?

Seconds later, a nurse with a blonde pixie-cut walks in and sits down in the stool next to my bed, "Oh wonderful! You're awake."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Sally, your nurse", she said.

"Hi Sally", I replied.

She inched a small yet uneasy smile on her face, "Dr. McIntosh, the head neurosurgeon of the Columbia University Medical Center, will be visiting you soon. He has a lot of important details about the results of your MRI that he'd like to dicuss with you. I'll go and page him."

Neurosurgeon? 

Dr. McIntosh is summoned into my room immediately. His height proved to be much taller than Dr. Schmidhuber and his hair has already began to start graying, possibly from all the years of stress he had to endure in medical school. Besides that point, he seemed like a benevolent person with his his circular glasses and his somewhat calm composure. I tried to sit up straight when a felt a slight discomfort on my side, so I laid down again.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Myoui", he greets, "So I had a mini conversation on your symptoms with Dr. Schmidhuber of Juilliard's Health Department. Juilliard, huh? That's a top-tier performing arts school. And you play the bassoon? Wow... that's a tough instrument."

"Ha ha ha.... yeah", I said nervously.

But then Dr. McIntosh gets straight to the point, which I like, "So you've been experiencing tinnitus for as long as you remember. You have periods of headaches. And when you play, your facial muscles freeze up or you feel like you've lost your balance. And last night, you had a sore throat."

"L-Last night?"

"Yeah. You've been in this institution for twelve hours. We anesthetized you in the ambulence so we could get to work on your MRI once we've arrived, which brings me to my next point", he flips a page among the stack of sheets nailed down on his clipboard, "My team and I had reviewed the results of your MRI. The images that we've seen and symptoms that Dr. Schmidhuber had explained to us are all starting to come together, and it makes sense — you have a bilateral vestibular schwannoma, also known as an acoustic neuroma."

"A what?" I inquire. The heavyweight title possibly bears of importance. Why does this disease sound so complicated?

"You have two brain tumors", he simplifies.

Two words — "brain" and "tumor" — two words that send me into complete shock and render me terror-stricken as hell.

"This type of tumor can be described as a benign growth from on the eighth cranial nerve leading from the brain to the inner ear", Dr. McIntosh continues to explain and my head is spinning, "An acoustic neuroma takes upon two forms. Your type is associated with a syndrome called neurofibromatosis type II (NF2). NF2 is an inherited disorder in which your nervous system is affected by the growth of noncancerous tumors. You have this problem in both ears. We predicted that you've been unaware of these tumors for so long, that they have gradually increased in size."

My voice is getting shaky, "I-Increased?"

"When was the last time you or your parents consulted a doctor about your symptoms?" 

The question struck me like a shot of lightning, "N-Never."

"I can't believe that your parents would ignore this problem for so long", he chides, clicking his pen to jot down something incomprehensible on his clipboard, "You're at the worst possible stage of an acoustic neuroma and you'll be facing severe complications whether or not we remove the tumor from your brain. This is the point that I really need to discuss with you."

I must be having a nightmare, "What complications?"

"If we were to conduct surgery on your brain and remove the tumors, you're going to gradually lose your hearing over time. Hopefully not all of your hearing, but most of it", he emphasized, "You would have to go through two or three surgeries to remove both tumors in your brain."

I can't believe that this is happening.

I want to cry.

I'm going to face the same fate as Chaeyoung.

How am I supposed to strive to become a professional musician when I'm going to become void of the ability to hear? I can't listen to music, I can't play in an orchestra or in another ensemble, I won't be able to hear my own bassoon-playing anymore. Oh my ing god. 

I won't be able to play the bassoon anymore.

I was getting extremely hesitant to ask this question, but I did anyways, "And what if I don't get treated for it?"

Dr. McIntosh grimaces, "You're going to die."

Characters