ARC ONE

cadenza 
Origin: Italian
a virtuoso solo passage inserted into a movement in a concerto or other work, typically near the end.

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: One more clarification. Mina's parents in this story are not her parents in real life. They do not represent them in any way.

The First Measure

(1) Fourth Grade
 

“Can I sit here?”

I glance up from my clarinet to see a fair-skinned girl grinning down on me, pointing at the chair next to me, standing on the tips of her toes as she waited for my reply. Judging by the color of her necktie, she was probably the same year as me. The first thought that runs through my mind is, Oh great, she’s a clarinetist too. How many of them have I seen in one day?

“Sure”, I said.

“My name is Sana, by the way. I’m in the fourth grade”, the girl said as she her reed, a gesture that I loathed seeing, “What's your name?”

“Mina.”

“Mina?” She perked up, broadening her shoulders before holding out her arm to me, “What a pretty name!”

I hesitantly grabbed her hand and shook it, “Uh-huh. Yeah.”

“So why did you start playing the clarinet?”

My train of thought went to a halt. This girl was staring into my eyes, to the point where I could identify the brown irises in her dark eyes. All I'm thinking is, Oh god, not this question again. I hated receiving inquiries like this because I could never give people a straight, proper answer. Do I need a legit reason for choosing an instrument?

But seriously, I don't know.

I’ve been playing this wooden air tube since I was six, but now I can play at the same level as uncle Takahashi, and a famous clarinetist who had won several competitions in Japan and had taken masterclasses with my parents. He’s working on his Master’s degree in musical education and had just become a father to two daughters — Minami and Juri. My mother told me that this sort of trait of excelling naturally was inborn, and that my family lineage stretches generations of accomplished musicians.

However, this is my first year being in a musical ensemble and to my surprise, I've already seen dozens of clarinetists, most of whom were forced to play the instrument because they didn't reach the physical requirements of others such as having long arms for the flute or the trombone. The point is, I really didn't know that I was playing such a popular instrument. I'm not sure if I even enjoy playing the damn thing; perhaps taking up the clarinet was just a hobby that my parents wanted to instill in my brain so that I could land in the same career path as them.

“I… guess I just like the way it sounds”, was my half-assed answer.

“Oh hey, me too!” Sana mused, suddenly clasping my hands, “Let’s be friends, seat-buddy!”

“Uhh… sure!” I pretended to look excited. I’m pretty sure that Sana couldn’t tell otherwise.

When I was assigned the role of clarinet section leader, that’s when I realized that I had grown really sick of this instrument. I had to answer to every dumb question from each of my section mates, all of whom except Sana, were incompetent with their playing. And you’d think that at this point, they should be improving steadily. But the truth is, nobody really practices in their own time and just want an excuse to skip out on one hour’s worth of classroom instruction. I was getting extremely peeved at the fact that they weren’t taking music as seriously as me and Sana.

The Second Measure

(2) Fifth Grade

In the beginning of the second term during my last year in elementary school, I begged my parents and music teacher to allow me to switch instruments. Convincing the teacher wasn’t so hard, in fact he was delighted because there was a shortage of musicians in other sections of the band. My parents? Not so much. They, especially my clarinetist mother, who works with the New York Philharmonic, were so gung-ho about molding me into the best clarinetist in the world. They thought that I had already come so far, having so many accolades that most kids my age could never get their hands on. What was the point of switching?

“Mina. I’ll let you change instruments under one condition”, my father held his breath, caressing the fur of our cat as we sat at the dining table, “You have to excel at your new instrument. Take private lessons, win many awards, do all that jazz. Just try to make your mother proud again.”

Father had that promise embedded into my brain.

The day after our hefty conversation, I went to school early to inquire my music teacher about switching instruments and much to my surprise, Sana was there too, still her reed as if her mother gifted the girl her own pacifier. I wanted to yank that piece of wood out of like an adult stealing candy from a baby.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I’m going to switch too!” Sana exclaimed.

“You don’t have to switch just because I’m switching, you know”, I told her, feeling a little guilty.

Sana chuckled loudly as she patted my shoulder, “Oh, Mina. Mina. Mina. I’m not switching because you’re switching. I’ve realized that I’m getting tired of playing the clarinet too. I mean, too many people play it and it just gets boring after you’ve mastered the damn thing.”

“Oh my god, that’s what I thought too!” I giggled.

“You’re so cute, Mina”, Sana cooed at the sound of my laughter, which I found creepy, “Anyways, what instrument were you thinking about switching to?”

“Eh?”

Sana inhaled before repeating the question, “I said, what instrument did you want to switch to?”

Holy crap. How did I never think about this?

“Anything other than clarinet”, I shrugged.

“MINA!”, Sana’s eyes widened, “How do you not know? What if Mr. Holtz assigns you an instrument that you may end up not liking? He's most likely going to give you an instrument that nobody wants to take up — say, the baboon.”

“The what?”

“Never mind!" She freaked out, "Just think of something, quick!"

My eyes wandered around the room, pinpointing odd-shaped instrument cases that would potentially be mine. I wanted something fun, yet also a little more challenging than the clarinet. I also wanted to be in a section with as fewer people as possible. Maybe I'll even have my own section, where I'm the section leader and the only person I have to worry about is me and not anybody else. I want my own space. Me, myself, and I.

"Good morning girls", Mr. Holtz enters the music room, combing his Ivy-League updo, "Have you two decided what instrument you'd like to switch to?"

"I do!" Sana instinctively raised her hand, "Horn!"

Really, Sana Minatozaki? A brass instrument?

He turned toward me, "And what about you, Mina?"

"Uhh... t-the balloon.”

"Oh! You mean the bassoon.”

Goddammit Sana.

“So you’re going to play the same instrument as your father?" his lips quirk into a smile, "Well, Myoui. Today is your lucky day because I have a spare one in the back. Just wait here for a moment.”

Mr. Holtz disappears into the storage room and all that comes to my mind is how the hell am I going to play this stupid thing. I’ve seen my father, who is principal bassoonist of the New York Philharmonic, stay up past midnight carving reeds and practice until dawn especially during the concert season in which the NY Phil played a bunch of baroque music. Sana mouthed the word, ‘sorry’ to me before breaking into a boisterous laugh. She’s definitely making fun of my misery.

“Oh, Mina”, the older girl tried to catch her breath, “Good luck practicing the balloon.”

“You better be”, I grumbled.

“Yah! How about this? We’ll switch instruments if you don’t like it”, Sana gleefully suggested.

I scoffed at her, “I don’t want your Horn.” 

“Give it a month. Maybe you’ll grow to like it”, she pressed, still biting down on that clarinet reed that she won’t be using after receiving her new horn.

“What if I don’t?”

“Wanna bet?”

“No.”

“Fine!” She stomps her foot.

“Sana, my dad plays the damn bassoon. He’s going to kill me if I make a wrong note.”

She gave me a skeptical expression, “He can’t do that! That’s called child abuse!”

“He doesn’t give a flying fu—”

Sana jumps in front of me and masks my mouth with her hand. It turned out that Mr. Holtz had just returned with our new instruments — two large, black cases that must’ve weighed at least twenty-five pounds each (or am I exaggerating?). If he had heard me sputter out the “f-word”, he would’ve whacked me upside my head with his baton and scold me about using "improper" language.  

“It’s relieving to hear that you’re joining the bassline”, he beamed at me, “We don’t have enough people who are willing to play the bigger instruments.”

“Uh yeah! No problem”, I heard myself laugh a little, “I love the lower registers!”

Mr. Holtz sits down in front of us and gives us a couple of demonstrations. First, he shows us how to assemble our instruments. Then, he goes over such things like maintenance, proper positioning, embouchure, as well as giving us a brief history about each instrument. Finally, he teaches us how to generate a sound. I don’t think much about the bassoon at first, but once Mr. Holtz sticks the double reed in his lips and blows, oh my god does it sound gorgeous. It’s almost as if he were imitating the male human voice; he makes that thing sing.

“I’ll warn you, Mina”, he turns to me, “The bassoon is not an instrument for the fainthearted. It isn’t one of those instruments that can be mastered within a few days, heck even a couple of years. It takes a lot of time and patience just to give it that ‘singing’ quality, and it’s very high maintenance too.”

“Don’t worry, I got this”, I display one of those confident smirks and he just cackles at me.

“Then I’ll leave it to you”, he rests the giant thing in my arms, “Good luck!”

My first impression? Holy crap, there’s so many goddamn keys sprinkled all over the place and this instrument is heavy. My knees were shaking as I’m on the verge of tipping over and collapsing on Sana. Carrying the bassoon in my hands is too strenuous, but I have to hoist it up to prevent it from dragging on the floor and scratching the boot joint. When we were walking home together, I had to stop from time to time, place it on the ground, and catch my breath. Sana is just ridiculing me as I’m struggling. I can’t wait to gain enough muscle to smack her with my large- instrument.

As soon as I tell mother the news about how I picked up the bassoon as my new instrument, she starts to go gaga and tell father. He’s excited too, and he rings up two of his friends to assist me in my endeavors to master the bassoon. One of them is a manufacturer and a member of the International Double Reed Society, the other one is a private instructor and principal bassoonist of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra. He also teaches at the Juilliard School of Music — my dream school. 

“Oh, my daughter!” dad cooed, “I’m so happy for you!”

The Third Measure

(3) Seventh Grade

Mr. Holtz was wrong. With the help of my dad and his friends, it didn’t take me very long to enter another competition and play on the same level as kids that were my age. The only difference was that I wasn’t playing the clarinet anymore. 

When dad gave me my own personal instrument, a seventy-five thousand dollar Heckel 41i — the only bassoon and the only woman I’ll ever spend my entire life with — I instantly fell in love. I didn’t care about bothering my neighbors because I wanted to play the out of her. Mr. Holtz actually told me that I shouldn’t be playing for more than six hours. I still didn’t listen and I went past midnight. I couldn’t put her down. 

At the National Young Artist Competition site, Sana asked me whether or not I would name my bassoon. I did. Her name is ‘Mikasa’. I was also stupidly in love with Attack on Titan during that time period.

“I can’t believe that you’re here with that thing”, Sana gawks at me, resting her chin on her horn case as she rests it on her lap, “It’s almost as if yesterday was the day that you couldn’t even get a sound out of that thing.” 

“I know right”, I sigh.

“Hey!” The older girl grins, almost menacingly if you will, “I thought that you didn’t want to play that thing.”

“I do now”, I emphasize.

“So does that mean that I win the bet?” Sana asks while holding a piece of gum in between her teeth. I guess that the piece of gum is a replacement for the numerous clarinet reeds that she used to chew on in elementary school. Either that or she’s exercising her jaw.

My face freezes before realizing the context of that question, “What the hell? What bet?”

“You lasted more than one month with that thing!”

“Sana! Stop calling Mikasa a ‘thing’! She’s a bassoon for Christ’s sake” I reprimand, yanking the strip of gum out of before she could even start chewing it, “And besides, I never even agreed to that stupid bet!”

“Omo! You named it too! It is love at first sight after all!” Her eyes glittered and her boisterous voice rung throughout the waiting room, disturbing all the other musicians who were here to tune their instruments. Sana was causing such a big fuss, that the moderators had to remove her from the area and place her in a practice room to cool down.

“Mina Myoui! You’re on standby!” A staff members announces.

Oh, the percussion division must be done then.

I didn’t think that I would be the first performer in the woodwind division to enter the stage. But in a sense, I was relieved because I don’t have to be worried about the people performing before me. I could get things over with and not stress about whether others had put on more stellar performances than me.

As I made my way to the left wing, I had to weave through a crowd of contestants who bursted into chatter as I fleeted past them. Their eyes felt like wasp stingers threatening to penetrate my focus. It’s just like a scene out of a movie wherein the protagonist makes their comeback and shocks the daylight out of their peers. I could hear their voices, seething along the lines of, “It’s that girl again: the one who has never lost a single competition before”, “Oh no, she’s back”, or, “She’s going to win for sure.”

And all I’m thinking is, Not this again…

It’s true. I’ve won every single music competition that I’ve entered, including the prestigious Gillet-Hugo Fox Competition for double reeds and the Concours de Genève when I used to play the clarinet. My bedroom has more first place prizes than barbie dolls -- ten from playing the bassoon and thirteen from playing the clarinet. Ever since I picked up the bassoon, I had strict lessons driven into the night and after that, I still wouldn’t be thinking about sleep because I had to make my own reeds. It’s such a difficult instrument to master. Mr. Holtz keeps questioning why I keep dozing off during band rehearsals, and eventually, I had to quit because I couldn’t fit after school practices into my tight schedule. The private teacher that my dad hired from the Metropolitan Opera, Mr. Brandt, could only teach me from 3 p.m. to 5 p.m. And from there, the rest of my practice sessions were monitored by my parents, especially my dad because I was playing the same instrument as him. It upsetted Sana greatly that I had to leave, but for some reason, she’s still proud of me even up until this day.

And that’s the truth.

People tell me that I should be proud of my merits, proud to have such “supportive” parents who put in a wealth of effort to breed such a talented daughter. My classmates keep bragging about how lucky I am to win all the time. The ones in band? Sana says that half of them envy me, whereas the other half think that I’m “too good for them.” Winning has become so much of a burden because everyone expects me to be the best, to win all the time, to be better than everyone else and to step on all the other contestants like ants.

“Ouch!”

I shake off my overwhelming thoughts and return to reality, only to find that I was aimlessly walking into another blonde contestant, knocking her head with the bell of my bassoon.

“Oi! Watch it motherfu--” she screamed before being cut off by her friend.

“Yah! Chaenggie, that’s rude!” her friend scolded, “Say sorry to Mina!”

“Mina?” The short-haired girl’s lips twisted into a faint smile, “The one who keeps crushing everyone’s dreams at every competition?”

“I’m sorry?” I question.

And then Chaeyoung’s taller friend eases the tension, “Oh my god. I am so sorry about her. She’s just salty because you defeated her at the World Festival for Young Artists in Belgium. By the way, my name is Park Jihyo and I’m a violist with the San Francisco Symphony Youth Orchestra. Chaeyoung is a percussionist.”

“Yeah, I can see that”, I take a glance at the vibraphone mallets tightly gripped in her left hand.

“Anyways, good luck on your performance!” Jihyo flashes a smile while dragging Chaeyoung by the wrist.

God, that girl is weird.

The Fourth Measure

(4) Eighth Grade

“Mom! Can I hang out with Sana today?”

Mother looked so surprised, that she almost spat out her chamomile tea, “But Mina, you have to prepare for your New York Youth Symphony and LaGuardia audition next week! You have so many excerpts to memorize!”

Oh, right. I need to explain. LaGuardia is a visual and performing arts high school located in Manhattan, near Lincoln Square, close to the Juilliard School. Music students who attend LaGuardia have a better chance of getting accepted into prestigious conservatories, including the Juilliard School.

“I’ve been prepared since last Sunday!” I protested.

“Oh really?” she looked suspicious, “The Rite of Spring isn’t just a walk in the park.”

“Mina”, my dad called as he walked into my bedroom. Oh my god, he didn’t even close the door.

Then he chimed in with my mother, “Don’t you think that Sana is distracting you from your career. I mean, look at that kid. She has never won, let alone advanced farther than the preliminaries in her entire life. Kids who don’t practice enough will never survive in the music industry.”

“But—”

“I think that we should have Mina surrounded by a different group of friends”, my mom suggested to my dad, “How about Nayeon? What happened to Takebe’s daughter? The Fujii girls? Washio’s daughter? Didn’t all of you guys used to be friends in your earlier years of elementary school?”

“I lost in touch with them since they studied abroad”, I answered.

“Oh...” mom trailed off.

“All of them are diligent girls”, Father said.

“Right?” my mom agreed.

“Oh! You just mentioned Reina Washio, huh?” Father pinpointed, “That’s Hiroyuki’s daughter.”

“Yeah! The one that won the Tchaikovsky Competition last year!”

“Hanzo Takebe told me that the girls are returning to New York to attend LaGuardia. Isn’t that great?” Mom grinned.

“That’s great! We can have them reconnect with our daughter again!”

Nayeon? Fujii? Takebe? Washio? I know who my parents are talking about. Those girls’ parents are also members of the New York Philharmonic, so it’s no wonder why my parents are familiar with them. We used to be a tight-knit group in kindergarten, but after our graduation from elementary school, the girls left their families to study in different countries. My parents wanted to keep me at home because they don’t trust me enough to become independent. I didn’t contact them ever since, but I have heard or read about them from various classical music sources. Each of these girls have their own accolades:

Nayeon rose to fame in the classical music industry after having participated in the 2009 YouTube Symphony Orchestra as a bass clarinetist. She attended the Interlochen Summer Camp and was scouted to perform professionally on live radio. She is also a multi-instrumentalist and plays ten instruments — B-Flat Clarinet, E-Flat Clarinet, Bass Clarinet, Soprano Saxophone, Alto Saxophone, Tenor Saxophone, Piano, Guitar, Flute, and she can sing, if that counts.

The Fujii sisters are Shuuka and Karen. Shuuka, the older sister, made her orchestral debut with the Boston Symphony Orchestra when she was ten, performing Vaughan Williams’s “Concerto for Oboe and Orchestra” and receiving rave reviews from The New York Times, The Gramophone, and The Instrumentalist. Karen has been nicknamed "The Queen of Viola" ever since her first recording album, released by EMI Classics, topped the Billboard chart of classical best-sellers. She tied first place with Park Jihyo at the Maurice Vieux International Viola Competition.

Yuzuna Takebe was the youngest winner of the ARD International Music Competition in Munich, claiming first prize in Flute Performance when she was twelve. She was also a member of the Gustav Mahler Youth Orchestra for a while.

Reina Washio is the daughter of the concertmaster of the New York Philharmonic, and received top prize for violin performance at the prestigious Tchaikovsky Competition and the famed Geneva International Music Competition, placed alongside other successful past winners such as Chung Myungwha and Martha Agerich.

“Our Mina has won more competitions than all of those girls. Both domestically and internationally”, Mother gleefully attested, “And they’re all Japanese too.”

“Sana is Japanese too”, I pointed out, “And Nayeon is Korean.”

“Speaking of which, how was Japanese school?” Father proceeded ask me without taking heed to my corrections.

I dug my face into a pillow, “Meh.”

“Mina, that’s not a real answer”, Mom chided, “Anyways, after your LaGuardia audition, you’re going to NY Phil Opening Gala Concert with me and your father. Our colleagues are going to bring their kids too, including the ones that we just mentioned.”

“Takahashi and his girls are going to be there too”, Dad mentions eagerly, trying to get me excited. As if I would be hyped to see him and my rabid cousins, especially Minami.

“My auditions are in the evening”, I groaned.

“And the gala is at night”, dad pointed out, “At least you’ll already be in formal wear.”

“Oh honey, let me dress you up and do your makeup that day”, mom begged, digging through my closet and tossing my once-neatly folded clothes on top of my bed.

“Mom, I’m not a doll. I can take care of myself.”

“I can’t trust you after you nearly left your reed-making kit on the subway”, she countered.

“So can I hang out with Sana?” I brought up the question again before she could go into depth about that accident.

“No”, she straightforwardly answered, “Go play with Mikasa.”

I had to make up an excuse, “The weather is not ideal for my reeds.”

My dad laughed, “What are you talking about? It’s sunny outside!”

“Mina, go practice”, Mother pressed.

“Can you two get out of my room?”  

“Your father and I was just about to leave for work anyways”, mom says, sounding annoyed, “Remember. LaGuardia audition and then the gala. You better be prepared by then.”

The Fifth Measure

One Week Later.

Among all the days that I could have gotten sick, it had to be on the same day as my audition.

The LaGuardia audition was one of the scariest moments that I’ve ever experienced in my life, even scarier than Youth Symphony auditions. To make things worse, my parents were standing on the other side of the double doors leading to the auditorium. It's not soundproof; they could hear every phrase, every note that rung out of my bassoon. And they could also hear each and every comment that spewed out of the mouths of the judges. I played John Williams’s concerto, Hindemith’s sonata, and two etudes — one lyrical and one technical.

But I wasn't prepared for how long my audition was going to be. Out of nowhere, one of the professors asked me to play the bassoon solo from the second movement of Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, a piece that I knew by memory but did not prepare beforehand. I blanked out and couldn't play it on the spot, so he gave me the sheet music and asked me to sight-read it. I was sweating and my heartbeat was all in my ears. And just when I thought it was over, another professor asked me to play excerpts from Stravinsky’s The Rite of Spring. The only unexpected piece that I was truly confident in was The Firebird, and everybody I knew could play that.

The people scoring and recording my audition didn't show any emotion. They looked cold and crabby and they talked like robots.

My parents didn't make me feel accomplished at all. They berated me for not memorizing the solo to Scheherazade, yelled at me for dragging the tempo on the second movement of that bassoon concerto, and comparing me to other kids who had auditioned before. It made me a nervous wreck, and it left me sobbing to the nearest bathroom.

I still got accepted, though.

“What happened, Mina?” Some random percussionist approached me, “You sounded different from how you normally sound.”

I shrugged, “My sick cousin must’ve drank my reed water while I wasn’t looking.”

Wait, why am I telling her this?

The day before my audition, uncle Takahashi visited our residence as he had just flown in from San Francisco, stoked about his music-teaching job. At the same time, he brought his daughters too because they wanted to see the sights of New York City. Having lived here for so long, the magic had already died out by the time I was in the sixth grade.

Damn you, Minami Takahashi.

“Oh, I’m sorry”, she said.

“Who are you and how do you even know my name?”

“Everyone in the music realm knows who Mina Myoui is”, she rolled her eyes, “By the way, I’m Chaeyoung. Son Chaeyoung. I’ve become a big fan of you since you defeated me at the Young Artists Competition in New York and the World Festival for Young Artists Competition in Belgium. I hope you don’t think lowly of me.”

Oh no. Is this the girl that Jihyo was talking about?

The shorter girl revealed a notebook from her backpack and held it in front of me.

“Eh?”

“Can I have your autograph?”

Holy crap. I didn’t see that coming. Didn’t she berate me at the Young Artists Competition a couple of months ago? How am I supposed to have a signature if nobody has ever asked me for an autograph before? I’ve only received flowers from my admirers, but there are only so few because everybody who competes against me hates my guts. I snatch one of the pens from the office counter and scribble something that is completely random, even drawing a star-shaped figure at the end of my name. I don’t even know if it looks like my name, but nonetheless, Chaeyoung’s mouth still drops open in awe.

“Wow! Your signature is so cute!” she squealed, “Thank you so much!”

“You’re welcome”, I force an uneasy smile. I was never sure about how to react to fans like Chaeyoung. “I don’t mean to leave early, but I have a schedule that I have to stick to.”

“No, I get it. You’re a busy person because you’re famous”, she smiled, completely understanding of the situation, “I don’t want to bother you anymore.”

“Thanks”, I nod, and then I hustle out of the auditorium.

God, that girl is weird.

The Sixth Measure

At the front of the Avery Fisher Hall, a tide of paparazzi swarmed towards me as we exited our limo on West 65th Street. My dad had to page in a couple of bodyguards to prevent the reporters and cameramen from climbing over me. I had no idea what their business was, but I wasn’t having it. I’m not in the mood to answer such ambiguous questions.

My sick and tired self just can’t keep up with the grandeur of this delirious NY Phil Gala.

After the concert highlighting the NY Phil’s beginning of their 2014-2015 season, dinner commenced in the Metropolitan Opera House adjacent to the Philharmonic’s home. Everybody would eat at this fine dining area somewhere in the opera house entitled “The Grand Tier Restaurant”. Some of the furniture were removed in order to accommodate a dance floor and more dining tables. The polished silver cutlery was heavy to the hand and shone brightly in the chandelier lights. The chairs were mahogany with violet cushions. At each place stood a tall, empty champagne flute and beautifully folded napkins to match the runner.

My parents were extremely keen on having me revive my friendship with the other girls, so they reserved a table for all six of us plus Minami and Juri Takahashi. He had all of us arranged at a table located smack in the middle of the dining area, where every visitor on every tier could watch us. It was unsettling, to say the least.

One by one, guests filed into their assigned seats, anxious for an exquisite feast. Juri sat in front of me, Juri uttering a silent apology for her older sister’s misconduct. Minami could care less about infecting my reed water. From the corner of my eye, this girl with long, dark hair and a navy blue, A-line dinner dress scooped me up from my chair and into her arms.

“Mina!” She shrieked in utter joy, “It’s been such a long time! You look so much mature now!”

Who is this girl again?

“It’s me! Yuzuna!”

“You’re taller than me now!” I said in an attempt to sound as nostalgic as possible, “I don’t remember you growing a single inch taller than my shoulder in the sixth grade!”

“Germans are tall! I had to seek a way to catch up to their height!” Yuzuna laughed, referencing one of her travels in Europe.

Behind Yuzuna was Nayeon and the Fujii sisters, Shuuka and Karen. Nayeon and Karen are the only girls in the group who are not of the same age as the rest of us. Nayeon is a year older than us and Karen is a year younger than Shuuka. Besides that point, the three of them welcomed me with warm hugs and the typical “How are you” greetings. As a fellow oboist and a huge fan, Minami made the move to sit next to Shuuka and ask to take a picture with her. She happily agreed, of course. Then the six girls are all chattering away about their adventures while I sit there in complete silence. That just comes to show how long I’ve been separated from these girls.

“Mina! I heard that you switched instruments”, Karen brought up.

I choked on my spinach artichoke soup, “Y-Yeah.”

“Omo! Mina, we have a lot to catch up on!” Nayeon’s mouth tugs into a smile and she casually reclines on her chair, “You’ve changed a lot since we left you.”

“I know right!” Shuuka nodded, “Did you dye your hair?”

I looked up from my wine-colored hair to see the girls staring at me, “I did.”

“I can’t believe that your parents would allow you to do that”, Juri’s eyes read of envy, “Our parents would murder us if we even have a tint of pink dye in our hair, right sis?”

“You’re right!” Minami giggled.

Reina Washio was the last girl of our group to arrive, making her grand entrance fifty minutes into dinner service. According to Yuzuna, her flight from Moscow was delayed by three hours and she had to hide in the women’s bathroom in order to avoid the European press. She plopped down on the empty seat next to mine and dug her spoon into her already-cold soup. This girl must’ve not enjoyed the airplane food and starved for the rest of her flight.

“Mina! Long time no see!” Once the main course arrived, which was herb-roasted beef tenderloin with fingerling potatoes, Reina’s disposition completely changed from annoyed and exasperated to cheery and energetic, “How’s the bassoon going?”

“Gr-Great!” My voice cracked unexpectedly, “I love it.”

“Didn’t you win over the entire woodwind division in the National Young Artist Competition?” Reina questioned. I nodded.

“Jesus, Myoui. How many competitions have you won already?” Nayeon uttered.

Yuzuna gave out the statistics, “That’s twenty-four wins and zero losses.”

According to these girls, anything other than first place is considered a failure. They have just about the same mindset as my parents when it comes to competitions, and it scares the crap out of me. How much have they changed since they were gone? Sheesh.

“At this rate, Mina is going to surpass even the greatest musicians in the world”, Karen exaggerated.

An uncomfortable laugh shuddered from my lips, “Oh come on! That’s not going to happen!”

“That’s our Mina!” My dad pops up from behind my back, ruffling my head.

“We expect nothing less from our daughter”, Mom stated with a smug look on her face, one hand on my shoulder and the other hand holding a wine glass. I silently hoped that my physical form would sink into the floor so I can escape the embarrassment of my parents.

Reina stood up to welcome my parents, “Oh Mr. and Mrs. Myoui! How have you two been?”

“Oh, Reina! Such a proper girl”, Mom’s cheeks flushed, “Asking about our well-being.”

As they engaged into a rather lengthy conversation, I could feel my sickness getting to me. A stinging sensation went on one side of my head, like a pair of fangs gnawing on my brain. I couldn’t concentrate on finishing my meal because the pain was that sharp. I tried to close my eyes for a quick millisecond before Shuuka brought me attention to the girl sitting across from me.

Juri Takahashi seemed concerned, “Mina, are you okay?”

“She’s just a little tired”, Mom answered for me, “She’ll be all recharged by tomorrow morning.”

The Seventh Measure

(5) Twelfth Grade Graduation

My high school years proved to be a lot more rigorous than my middle school years. Maybe the word “rigorous” is a bit of an understatement.

Not only did my number of first place prizes increase from twenty-four to forty-seven, I had to squeeze out all of my free time to fit in various ensemble rehearsals into my schedule. Because the music department was unusually short on bassoonists, the numbers only decreasing each year, the woodwind faculty constantly requested for me to become a part of several ensembles. In my Freshman Year, I was a part of LaGuardia’s Chamber Ensemble and Pit Orchestra. Sophomore Year, I was a member of LaGuardia’s Symphonic Band. Junior Year, I was in The LaGuradia Philharmonia. Finally during Senior Year, I was considered for the The LaGuardia Symphony, the high school’s most advanced and reputable ensemble. Adding to that, I would have rehearsals with the New York Youth Symphony Orchestra every weekend and every summer, I would be on tour with the National Youth Orchestra of the United States (NYO-USA). For all of these ensembles, I was given the position of principal bassoon.

Maybe that’s why I’m having more headaches than before.

I’m just relieved that my hectic high school career is over, and that soon I will be moving away from my parents to live in the Juilliard dorms. President Polisi, the President of the Juilliard School and also a bassoonist, showered me with compliments at my Juilliard audition. I clearly recall one of his comments being, “Forty-seven first-place awards and Principal Bassoon in seven ensembles? I don’t think I’ve ever met an undergraduate student who has the same feat as you.”

But one thing for sure is that I haven’t talked to Sana since I started to hang out with Reina and the other girls. She probably graduated from a different high school since I never heard her name called out at last year’s ceremony, where I played Pomp and Circumstance on stage with the Symphonic Band. I heard rumors from my middle school peers that she moved to San Francisco.

I hope that she doesn’t hate me for leaving her.

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