ARC TWO

a capriccio
Origin: Italian
A free, unrestrained, capricious approach to tempo

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 Twenty-Seventh Measure

Saturday: January 30, 2021

SinB is at my penthouse in Tribeca for the first time. We're both situated in my soundproof practice room.

This Saturday would be SinB's last lesson with me, since I'm going to become busy once the spring season comes around with rehearsals for the Opera Festival, visits to the doctor, and auditions for the New York Philharmonic and the London Symphony Orchestra. And this is all before I even get around to making reeds, my online ASL classes, and doing my regular homework. Goddammit, Mina. You're terrible at time management.

"I'm surprised that you're still persevering even though the dance division must be busy with their... stuff", I said with a lack for a better word.

"I just don't want to lose touch with my instrument, you know?" she shyly giggled, her double reed dangling from , "Don't get me wrong. I love to dance, hence I chose this route because I'm passionate about it and I want to turn my passion into a reality. But the rules of dance drives me nuts and it starts to feel more like a hassle of a job than a passion. So I dabble on other things here and there so that I can regain my focus."

"I know what you mean", I laugh, remembering that time where Chaeyoung caught me listening to K-pop, "I feel that way with classical music too."

"Plus and I are preparing an outreach performance too, so I seriously need to brush up on this", she adds.

"Y-You're doing outreach too?" my voice drops, my mind now rewinding to Monday's prison performance, "That... that's great."

Oh god. Not this tinnitus again. Just ignore, Mina. Just ignore it.

"Mina, are you okay?" SinB her head when she notices that I'm cupping my left ear with my hand.

"I'm fine! Seriously!" I feigned a smile, and somehow SinB buys it, rather reluctantly of course.

After two minutes, I regain my composure and kick back into gear. They're both playing Piazzolla's Libertango with Minyoung as their piano accompanist, and their performance will take place at LaGuardia, the high school I attended with The Six. Hearing these news makes me feel nostalgic about those days when Juilliard students would drop by and perform for the school's music program. I actually recall Sowon, Mark, and Momo being a couple of those outreach performers when I was a senior at LaGuardia. That was four years ago.

My self-esteem heightened after playing for the inmates at the Queens Correctional Facility and it's difficult to explain why. I feel much more relaxed demonstrating and advising SinB with her technique and performance style. And in addition to that, I'm not so much restrained in Juilliard Orchestra rehearsals and in my own self-practice sessions. Maybe it's because I was finally allowed to let out those inner emotions about my identity. It's ironic how I felt free performing for prisoners, and Dahyun told me over breakfast that Bona felt herself freed after that performance.

I lean over to her score to make a comment, "You need to use more air for this run, or else you won't be able to finish each and ev—"

"Mina!" Yerin's squeaky voice protrudes our environment, "Why is Nayoung from I.O.I and Pristin in your house?"

"Yerin!" I shouted, clenching my own bassoon, "Can you not—"

She interjected, "Sorry, Mina! Just a quick question, and then I'll stop bothering you two. I promise!"

"She's one of the housekeepers", SinB answered for me, "Yoojung is too."

She squeals, then sprints out of the room to look for Yoojung, "YIKES!"

I forgot to mention that Yerin tagged along with SinB and I on our way to Tribeca, and for the main purpose of seeing what my house looks like. SinB wasn't too taken aback because her family is wealthy too. On the other hand, Yerin was in a trandescendent state, gliding around with her feet sweeping up each and every tile on the marbled floor as if she were in the promised land.

Yerin didn't keep her promise. She did not stop bothering us.

Every three minutes, Yerin would interrupt our practice and either peck up SinB or ask me trivial questions about my residence, such as where Tessitura, my persian cat, went after viewing family photographs on a rustic wood wall shelf (that cat is dead). And then whenever she planted a kiss on SinB's cheek or square in the lips, she'd sweetly say things like "Aww! My poor baby!" or "Your lips must hurt! Lemme smooch 'em for ya!"

It's hard to explain the weird sensation I have inside when I see Yerin or SinB, or heck, any other girl-to-girl couple make such fond interactions with each other. I had this same feeling whenever I was alone with Sana and Chaeyoung as well. It's like watching an adorable puppy play around with another of its kind and deeming it cute, except these two are anything but furry, shaggy creatures. I can't scold them because they seem happy with each other, and that's how life should be: to love whoever you want regardless of gender, race, or creed.

And here I am, still apprehensive and fearful of my family's beliefs. It's difficult to become whomever you want when you haven't even learned how to become independent yet. I can't swim, I still at home economics, I don't know how to drive, and I can't imagine being financially self-sufficient because I don't know how to pay taxes and . Try learning those things when you have to make reeds, do homework, attend orchestra rehearsals, network with other musicians, and practice your bassoon for four to seven hours each day, seven days a week. It's preposterous.

Am I ready to face the consequences? Am I ready to be shunned by my relatives and live by myself in New York? 

Yerin finally exits the practice room and leaves me alone with SinB, who is still rubbing her pink cheek with her hand after Yerin's drawn-out kiss.

"SinB", I paused in the middle of our lesson, "I know this sounds random, but I need to ask you for advice."

The younger girl looks flustered, "Me? Advice?"

"Look", I reposed my bassoon behind my chair, "I know that you're paying me to have this lesson; not have a girl talk. But I really need to ask you this right now because we're here and after this, I won't see you on campus as often anymore and—"

"It's fine!" laughter escaped from SinB's lips, "I'm just surprised that you — a role model since the Proms — are asking plain 'ole me for advice!"

"What advice would you give to somebody who wants to come out, but can't?" 

SinB froze, took a deep breath, and then looked at me straight in the eye, "Mina. I know how you feel. My dad was intially appalled when I revealed to him that I was dating Yerin. We only began to rebuild our relationship after he accepted his teaching position at Juilliard."

"Really?" I her with a shocked expression. Her father was once my music theory teacher and my private instructor. "I didn't know that."

"But then I retaliated and told my dad that if he doesn't want to become a part of my life, then that's his loss", SinB adds a sigh before continuing, "He came around, and apologized when I got accepted into Juilliard because he realized how foolish he was for not talking to me just because he didn't accept with that part of my character. He missed out on life with me for years, when he could've used that kind of lost time to talk to me."

"That's..." I said quietly, possibly close to tears.

"Mina", SinB clasps my hand with hers, assuming comfort, "Coming out will be a learning process for you, your relatives, and your peers. They don't necessarily have to agree with the idea of you liking somebody of the same , but it's still important that they love you despite the differences. Remind them that you're worthy of love and happiness, and don't let anyone to push you to say it. There's no time frame."

Bona said something like this. Why am I asking SinB?

Oh yeah. It's because you're still scared.

"But when it does happen, you feel free", SinB finished, "It's like a cleansing."

"Thanks", I whispered, returning my bassoon in my hands, "Let's continue the lesson."

"Mina, wait", SinB pauses, pulling out her phone to check something, "Are you busy tomorrow?"

I stared at her, "Why?"

SinB throws her phone to me, the name of the event displayed on her screen, "Eunha, Yerin, and I are going to the Asian Invasion tomorrow night. You should come. It'd be a great way to let loose before you begin preparing for your orchestral auditions and 'The Ring' in March."

"Does Yerin need help preparing for her auditions?" I asked, "I heard that she applied to the LSO too."

"Erm..." she puts her finger to her chin, "London didn't say anything yet, but the New York Philharmonic didn't invite her for an audition."

"Seriously?"

She shrugged, "Neither did Mark, Jun, or Mingyu. All I know is that Kim Jisoo, Jennie's friend from the Manhattan School of Music, was invited to audition."

"That's bull", I grumbled and rolled my eyes. I guess it's just me, Jisoo, and a couple of other unnamed bassoonists.

But truthfully, I could see why they didn't invite her or anyone else. The application process was an attempt to weed out the unqualified candidates and ensure that only "prized" players show up to the audition, making the tryout procedure operate much faster and smoother. The judging panel could also get bored of listening to two-hundred bassoonists playing the same excerpts and the same concerto over and over again.

I know about the New York Philharmonic's audition process because Dr. Cseszneky had gone through it before; in 2019 when a new auditioning system was implemented within some American orchestras. About fifty or so musicians, all of whom had submitted applications, are invited to the initial audition after a judging panel reviews their resumes, cover letters, and in some cases, pre-screening tapes. In each round, the committee will whittle down the amount of candidates until there are only two or three people standing, then the finalists will play off each other for the crowning posiiton that is "principal" or "first chair". Every round takes place on a different day in intervals of either weeks or maybe even months, which is why I'm auditioning now because a winner will be chosen once I graduate from Juilliard. 

I still feel bad for Yerin and the others, though.

"So are you coming tomorrow?" SinB retracts to her previous question, "Nayoung is performing."

SinB is right. I do need a break from all of the stress that's coiling my brain like a snake. Perhaps I can invite Chaeyoung too.

"Sure", I nodded.

"Junior said to dress casually, so don't wear dangerously high heels or a fancy dress", she stated with a humorous smile, and then my mind brings me back to my four-inch heels and that uncomfortable, sequined dress that I wore to watch K.A.R.D, I.O.I, and the others. 

After SinB left, I was alone in my spacious practice room with the grand piano in the center and my instrument sitting on top of the piano bench. I was able to drill in a good amount of practice for a couple of hours, warming up in silk pajamas and penguin slippers. Only after I pushed my tinnitus and anxiety behind my head and got comfortable did I focus on those audition pieces for the New York Philharmonic and the London Symphony Orchestra. Most of the excerpts are virtually recognizable and similar for both orchestras: Berlioz's Symphonie Fantastique, Mozart's Overture to Marriage of Figaro, Stravinsky's Firebird and The Rite of Spring (I saw it coming), Rimsky-Korsakov's Scheherazade, and so on. 

Auntie Mineko came home from her Metropolitan Opera Club managing job at around six o'clock, a package snug under her arm.

"Mina!" my aunt called from the living room, "Did you order a new box of cane to make more reeds?"

The ? I didn't even finish my current box.

"Umm... no?" I hesitated, slowly lowering my bassoon down on the piano bench behind me, shuffling out of the room in my penguin slippers.

Auntie Mineko's eyes fixate on the shipping label, "Looks like your dad's name is on it. Unfortunately, he won't be able to use it because he and your mom have been sent to a correctional facility in Queens. It should be your's then."

My left ear catches two words, "Correctional facility?"

"It's complicated", her lips crease into a light smile, "But you shouldn't worry about them. Direct your attention towards school and music."

Auntie Mineko is right too. I have other things to worry about. I'm not complaining about this new box of cane that I can shape into more reeds. This saves a lot of money and time on my part, and I can just focus on my auditons and the upcoming opera festival.

"Your interpretation of Scheherazade..." she halts her steps, "It's beautiful. You're like a bird."

I hid a smile, taken aback by that bird comparison, "Umm... thanks?"

The Twenty-Eighth Measure

Sunday: January 31, 2021

A couple of male artists performed at the Asian Invasion today, which drew the attention of several twenty year-old women who flashed fansigns and screamed as if their lungs had been pierced by a knife. Junior and JB performed as a duo for the last part of the first half, and this stumps me because they're both from opposing ensembles within Juilliard. Chaeyoung, who is sipping iced green tea in a fedora and a large-print plaid dress, discloses that both orchestras never had any hard feelings towards each other. Only select members of the Juilliard Orchestra were irked at the Pops Orchestra.

Nayeon, Jeongyeon, Momo, Eunha, and a soon-to-become-legal Jihyo are stationed at the bar area for watermelon-soju cocktails and sushi burritos. Dahyun and Tzuyu charged to the dance floor and flailed about. SinB and Yerin have encased themselves in a handicapped bathroom stall for over an hour and have no intention of coming out. God knows what the hell they're doing in there, but I'm not going to question it.

"Everyone seems to be indulged in these boy bands", Chaeyoung sets her glass down to gesture with me, "But I'm not."

"Me neither", I shook my head. Don't get me wrong; I don't hate boy groups at all. I like their songs and the choreography is on-point, but I'm not so infatuated to the point where I'd burn out hundreds of dollars for their merchandise or demand to their "chocolate abs".

Then Chaeyoung rapidly claps her hands together like a vigorous sea lion, "The second half is going to be female artists. Can't wait!"

Junior introduces I.O.I after a brief intermission. I noticed that Somi seemed lifeless; she wasn't upholding the same amount of energy and bliss compared to their last performance. Her moves weren't sharp and her voice faltered in Knock Knock Knock. Clearly, she's undergoing a lot of stress.

"Oh, Mina!" Eunha called, holding a glass of watermelon soju in one hand and Jackson's hand in the other.

I removed my hearing protection to talk to her, "What's up?"

"I can't finish my drink. Do you want it?" 

To be honest, I don't even know what soju is. The concept of soju had only been touched on in a couple Korean dramas that Chaeyoung recommended for me. Jackson urges me that soju isn't dangerous and that it merely just tastes like watermelon juice, so I take a moment to consider this. My throat is dry from Juilliard Orchestra rehearsals and I didn't have the chance to buy bottled water from the vending machine. Drinks here are pricey and I don't have a lot of cash in my wallet. I still need to reload my MetroCard to use the subway, or else I can't go home.

"Alright", I snatch the glass from her, "I'll drink it."

"Okay, folks! It's the girl group that you've all been waiting for!" Junior yelps through a microphone, marching across the ten-feet high stage as the audience becomes restless, eager, and unforbearing, "They started as a cover group but now they're slated to make their official Korean debut next month! Ladies and Gentlemen, please give a warm welcome to Pristin!"

Ten gorgeous girls spurt to the stage and make their introductions before their first song — WE. I recognize Pinky and Kyla as members of the Juilliard Orchestra, as well as Nayoung, whom I don't have to explain. I don't know who the other girls are, but SinB and Yerin eventually ceased their make-out session to watch this performance. The pair seem to be familiar with the group, even to an extent where they can be considered fans. SinB shouts out "Kyungwon!" while Yerin shouts out "Eunwoo!" — two girls whom I assumed to be members of this group. 

Pristin has a lot of charm.

The vocals are very smooth and clear, and the choreography is very clean despite the sheer amount of members. Each and every girl has their own spark that makes them stand out while functioning as a congenial group at the same time. Nobody overpowers one another; it's all about balance.

A couple of minutes later, the soju gets to me. Goddamn. I really am a lightweight.

Jackson is wrong. I think it's much more than just watermelon juice. 

The club became louder and louder and more upbeat than earlier. Pinky, a Pristin member named Yebin, and Kang Minah from I.O.I are left on stage to perform as a trio — 24 Hours. At the chorus, Chaeyoung candidly seized my arm and dragged me to the dance floor with her, drunkened by the good vibes radiating off of the other clubbers. The percussionist dances like it's her last night on this planet, and it's captivating.

Seeing Bona and the others cinched behind bars made me realize that I seriously need to do something great with my life.

The beats flow in like a virus, holding me captive in an EDM coma. The music moves me like I'm a puppet on strings and the next thing I knew, I was dancing along with Chaeyoung too. The hem of her plaid dress rose dangerously high, exposing her fishnet tights, and then she clutched onto her hat as if a storm was brewing inside the building. Chaeyoung looked so beautiful that I could hardly breathe.

We bounced around for about an hour until everything unwinded into a slow dance session. Yewon from Pristin snags the microphone from its stand and begins singing When We Were Young. The atmosphere in this space was more mesmerizing than the Juilliard Ball. It wasn't about who was the best couple or who had the best dance performance; it was about being able to free youself like Chaeyoung and I did, as though the moment was infinite and memorable enough that it didn't require an Instagram post or a Facebook status. 

Maybe we're not so different after all. We're both just experimenting.

Then something incredible happened.

We pause, looking into each other’s eyes. I swallowed hard and held my breath as Chaeyoung's eyes search mine. Without warning, she leans into me, her lips drawing near and my lips parting to receive them. I thought to myself, Oh, . I think I might actually be a lesbian.

This night had been so much better than any of the other fake dates I was arranged with for high school dances.

Chaeyoung's hands began to slide up my chest and encircle my neck, her lips so wistful and warm. We kissed and danced in circles until my intoxicated self crashed against the walls of the dim clubhouse, and now Chaeyoung's hand slid smoothly onto my arm, lifting it and pinning it against the wall. The heat flowing from my body grew with every lasting second of our lip-locking. The rest is history.

The Twenty-Ninth Measure

Monday: February 1, 2021

Okay. Now I'm sober.

Jihyo called me at five o'clock in the morning, asking me to relay today's assignments since she contracted fish food poisoning from the sushi burrito she ate last night. Being sick isn't fun, especially on the day you reach the age of majority.

And then Eunha calls in at around 5:13, giving me a synopsis of what happened last night. Sushi burritos, stomach flu, boiling down to the same request as Jihyo. After that, Nayeon and Jeongyeon called me at 5:30 and 5:50 respectfully. Those two were also experiencing an upset stomach from the sushi burritos, and they requested for me to pass on any news that Maestro GIibert gives out.

Among those five, Momo was the only one who survived. Jeongyeon did tell me that she could withstand one week-old leftovers.

Trekking to the subway from my house, let alone in twenty-five degree (°F) weather and burdensome hills of snow, proved to be a tremendous struggle when dealing with a pulsing headache. My surroundings become a blur as I jaunt down a flight of steps, past a flurry of people, and onto the platform for the 1 Train. Auntie Mineko and Uncle Noboru, who use the same train to go to work, were nowhere to be found. I presumed that I lost them in the sea of commuters, hasting to work as it is now rush hour. When the train arrived and I finally boarded the car, my face pressed against the cold, steel walls as even more passengers shoved themselves inside. The train became a pig pen within seconds.

During my lesson, I became lightheaded as Dr. Cseszneky was giving me pointers about my interpretation on the fourth movement of Shostakovich's Ninth Symphony — another audition excerpt for both the London Symphony Orchestra and the New York Philharmonic.

Once lunchtime came around, I hid in the practice room because I was too skittish to see Chaeyoung especially after what went down last night. Neither of us expected to step it up a notch and smash each other against the seedy walls of the Asian Invasion with our lips and our hands. That scene replays in my head like a hybrid between a monumental chick-flick and a poorly constructed student film — it was clumsy yet iconic and amazing. 

No, Mina. Both of you were just drunk and . That's why you two pounced at each other like hyenas.

I tell myself that Chaeyoung and I are just friends, and that the kiss was just a factor of harmless experimentation with lesbianism. We'll only go as far as cooking meals together, Chaeyoung scolding me for not knowing how to act like an independent Japanese woman, me criticizing her favorite Korean soap operas to her annoyance, and having four-hand duets on the same grand piano. 

We used each other to dust off the stress that musicians face day-to-day, and that's absolutely okay.

Nothing takes my mind off of things than doing homework: etching out Tchaikovsky's years of suffering on pen and paper, and then formulating a research essay that exemplifies how tonal systems, scales, consonance and dissonance, and rhythmic relationships operate with respect to orchestration, ornamentation, and improvisation. A tidy workspace and a cup of coffee is unduly soothing even though my body is burnt out.

I completed a good portion of my homework, which grants me enough time to take a power nap before my 19th Century Music History class with Professor Brown. Junior, Jackson, Eunha, and Sana are also registered in this course. Eunha is diligent in taking notes while Junior and Jackson are more concerned about whether their water bottle will stay upright after flipping it. I have no say for Sana since she's not here.

Before Professor Brown could spurt a single word, a tall shadow advances down the row of seats from the door.

And the next thing I knew, President Polisi calls us from our class, "I need Sana and Mina. It's about their upcoming performance for the BBC Proms."

I forgot about the Proms. That just adds another event to my practice checklist.

Wait a minute. Sana is back already?

Indeed she is. The girl rose from her seat in the middle row and promenades down the aisle, in the direction of President Polisi. I don't know if it's just my hangover, but Sana looks so ing gorgeous right now. She returned from Washington D.C. radiating like either a Golden Globe actress or the First Lady of the United States, draped in one of those cream-tinged Ralph Lauren dresses with long sleeves, her jet-black hair in a low side bun with a soft side-swept bang. Fresh, elegant, yet understated. All she needs is a million-dollar smile, but her solemn facial expression says otherwise.

Did something happen to her?

The two of us were led into President Polisi's office where a mountain of papers, abandoned pens and paper clips, fruitless highligters, and stray bottles of Wite-Out invaded his work desk. Sana and I couldn't view President Polisi's face when he lulled down in his own chair.

"I'm waiting for one more girl. She should be done with her Percussive Methods class soon", he talks with a fluttering sheaf of papers clasped in his hands, using his head to point towards two lone chairs, "In the meantime, you two can have a seat over there while I file these documents."

Sana and I hover over to a pair of armchairs in front of his desk, keeping to ourselves while we waited for the third person to finish their class. I didn't want to talk to Sana because she seems so drained from her flight. There could've been other factors that contributed to her obvious fatigue, such as the numerous rehearsals she had undergone for the inauguration performance and maybe some other affiliated events like the inaugural ball. I didn't find the time to watch Sana's performance yet, but I'm praying that she went off without a hitch.

Behind us was Chaeyoung and her personal translator who follows according to her class schedule. The smaller girl was pleasantly surprised to see our faces in the same room; so pleasant that she heaved a sigh of relief as President Polisi pulled aside an extra chair for her. My shoulders tensed when she scooted closer to me, her smile big, not enervated in the slightest. Sana had no idea, so she fell silent and fidgeted with her fingers. 

"You three are pretty close, eh?" President Polisi begins, but the three of us don't say much except the fact that Sana and I let out a light chuckle. Chaeyoung's translator is rather slow at interpreting. "This is good because I have a job assigned for you three after the Bay Area Opera Festival." 

"A job?" Sana stares.

"You three are going to be sent off to London after your last day in San Francisco", he leans back in his office chair, "For spring break."

My lips twitched into a nervous smile, "London?"

President Polisi makes a clarification and it all makes sense why he would bring up the BBC Proms, "Remember the festival competition back in Paris? You and Sana are practicing new, original compositions for the upcoming summer promenade concerts as a result of your winnings. Sana will be working on a concerto with Eric Whitacre while you will be working on a sonata with Seohyun."

"What's Chaeyoung doing?"

"Seohyun can't be your piano accompanist for the sonata because she's developing tendonitis", he explained, "So Chaeyoung will do it."

"But—" I started, voice small, "She's not a piano major."

He shrugged, "Seohyun specifically requested Chaeyoung."

"Oh", I didn't bother to question any further.

"President Polisi", Sana spoke up, pressing her trembling fingers to her knees, "I don't think I can play that concerto."

I looked at her, my brows knitting in shocked disbelief, "What did you say?"

"Mina, it's not really your problem", her eyes grew watery and before I could anticipate it, she dashed out of Polisi's office. What happened to her?

President Polisi moved around his desk and placed a hand on my shoulder, "It's okay, Myoui. You didn't do anything to trouble her. Sana cracked a couple of notes during her presidential inauguration performance and the idea that she made those mistakes in front of famous figures like Lang Lang and Gail Williams is just overwhelming for her. The general public doesn't seem to be very pleased either."

Oh no. This is bad.

I've been through this nightmare before — not just in Paris when I butchered the last measure of Sibelius's Fifth Symphony and when I lost second place to Sana in the festival competition; but my life has been about people watching me the moment I was hailed as a prodigy. Ominous recollections fill my head as I think about thousands of indistinguishable faces brooding over me. 

My head lowered to the floor, caught in the sight of Sana's horn case still sitting underneath her chair in President Polisi's office.

The Thirtieth Measure 

Maestro Gilbert is flip-flopping between all four parts of The Ring.

The headache strengthens during Juilliard Orchestra rehearsals and by the same token, a thirty-second tinnitus attack arrives when the bassoons have to elongate the low E-flat note during the opening drone of The Rhinegold, portraying the stagnant motions of the river Rhine. But I stand firm anyways and pretend that the tinnitus was never there. I inserted my hearing protection, my lips, and played.

A ten minute break between the second and third acts of The Valkryie allows me to fish out my phone from my purse, coincidentally running my rag through the joints of my bassoon to maintain its cleanliless. Also, blowing through a nine-feet tube with green gunk is a nauseating concept.

President Polisi was right. None of the comments on Twitter seem appetizing at all, and there's not a single word about the U.S. President or the other performances at the inauguration. Ninety percent of the content is about Sana's -ups in Independence Day and perhaps some of the commentators are regular "haters" who have nothing better to do with their own lives. I'm astounded at how people dedicate their time to focusing on the negatives and making others feel miserable and worthless. It's kind of ridiculous how everyone scrutinizes Sana's small mistake in the same way that they would observe any other tragedy. It's not like she murdered anybody.

"Oh, Penguin-chan! You're reading those comments about Sana?" Jennie's head drifts to my smartphone, which is sitting on my music stand.

I remove my hearing protection to address the clarinetist, "What do you want?"

She attempts to appear romanticizing by sighing gleefully and gazing at the tall ceiling with large eyes, "You're going to London after the opera festival, huh? I'm jealous. I want to go back to Europe over Spring Break but I have to stay in New York for the friggin' Vandoren convention."

I ran my rag through my bass joint, "Okay, and?" 

Jennie's head lurches to the horn case sitting under my chair and the tiny percussionist sitting in the back, "And not to mention that you're going to London with Sana, Chaeyoung, and nobody else. So basically, it's an ?"

"Jennie, please", I released a frustrated sigh, popping my bassoon's bass joint back into the boot joint, "The three of us are just friends. And we're not going to London to dilly-dally; we're going there to actually get done."

"Methinks otherwise", she laughs, ing her hands suggestively.

I shot a pointed look at Jennie before I could place my reed on my lips, "You're crazy."

When Maestro Gilbert settles on switching to Siegfried, Chaekyung is sent out and Sana is summoned to take over at principal horn. The problem is that she doesn't come. It makes me wonder if she's either looking for her instrument (which I have) or sulking somewhere else. He turns to Xuan Yi, the fourth horn player sitting in between Johnny and Jimin, to ask about Sana's whereabouts. Xuan Yi doesn't mouth a single word.
 
It all comes down to me to look for Sana, because Maestro Gilbert can somehow detect social circles within the orchestra. I tucked my bassoon into its case before leaving, as I don't want to risk leaving it unattended. I also secured Sana's horn case with my other free hand.

I sprinted across each and every floor in the Irene Diamond Building, yet there's no trace of Sana. I can't access the dormitories because I left my student ID card in my purse, which Chaeyoung is guarding because I didn't feel like towing more baggage than I can physically handle. 

Halfway through my search, I reminded myself to take the medications that Dr. McIntosh subscribed for me. I retreated to the third floor restrooms and dug out my prescriptions from the front pocket of my bassoon case. You would think that my instrument is the only thing I hold in my case, but I have other miscellaneous crap in here too. Pencils, pens, my smartphone, earphones, earplugs, chargers, a mini bottle of ketchup — you name it.

"Mina?"

The familiar pitch of Sana's voice lead to me choking on a pill that I tried to swallow, "The hell?"

She tilted her head, "You had my horn all along?"

"You left it in President Polisi's office", I made clear, handing it back to her, "Why aren't you at rehearsals?"

"Mina. I can't", Sana shifts the case away from her, "I can't go back there. I can't face them. Nobody wants me there."

"I want you."

It's true. No other musician can play the horn parts in Siegfried better than Sana. I've heard her practice during rehearsal breaks and in between classes, and only Sana can replicate the heroism and fearlessness that make up Siegfried's character. Her horn rips through the texture of the ensemble like the sword Siegfried uses to slay the dragon Fafner. She breathes through her isntrument in the way Siegfried longs for a breath of adventure. I know that Sana can do it. She just needs a little push and some encouragement, just like Siegfried. 

Mime explicated that Siegfried and only Siegfried can kill Fafner. I believe that Sana and only Sana can act out this titular role.

"Think about it this way", I gave her a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, and then I think about that walk with Nayeon, "Tomorrow is a new day."

She coughed, "Easy for you to say. You always win."

"Remember what happened in Paris? I've read remarks about how my interpretation of Bach's Partita was 'boring', 'unimaginative', 'too technical', 'emotionless'. I also messed up the last measure of Sibelius Five and there was talk about that too."

Sana paused and looked up at me, momentarily confused. She must've forgot while putting herself in a self-loathing state.

"Just because I win doesn't mean that I've never been bombarded by malicious comments before", I continued, "For as long as I've competed, I've been labeled as 'overrated'; that I don't deserve the acclaim that I established since I was a kid. My competitors — those who ranked lower than me — were bitter towards me for gaining fame at such a young age, and therefore they collectively detested me to make themselves feel better."

Sana furrows her eyebrows, "That's not very nice of them."

I studied her face, taking a breather before resumed my statement, "But you know what? I stopped giving a damn and I put those hideous events behind me, because I'm not going to let a couple of cynics hinder my passion. They can spite me all they want, but they can't stop me."

I'm smiling to myself as I'm saying this. I felt a little bit of my self-confidence returning, I never thought that it could feel this good.

"Our lives are strenuous. We take up a profession that is hard on our minds, hard on our bodies, hard on our emotions — the demands, the expectations, and the backstabbing is always high", I cleared my throat again, opened my case and looked down at my bassoon, which I considered a part of me for several years. I grinned as I gingerly its wooden exterior. "We're human too, and humans aren't exactly perfect."

"We have our bad days, and we make mistakes too", Sana added, following my gaze.

"Right", it took a rush of breath for me to complete my statement, "I learned from past competitions that we can't please everybody. Some people are very opinionated, while others like to dwell on the negatives and dedicate their time into making us feel bad about ourselves. Those who are embittered think that downgrading us will raise the ego of themselves or their friends. They want you to fail. They'll never be happy."

Sana's fingers closed tightly over my wrist, "I love music. I really do. I just don't like the critics; the authorities."

I don't like the critics either, at least those who aren't constructive in their reviews. I've had my fair share of them in the past, and these people allot their lives into making others suffer. They treat the tiniest errors or the littlest deviations as a worldwide catastrophe, and it's no wonder why my playing had been perceived as 'technical' for all these years until Le Cygne Noir. That piece — the one that Seohyun wrote — was relatable.

At first, I wanted that performance to end. But in the aftermath where the audience broke into an emotional applause, everything felt right.

Your fans; your admirers; your beloved ones — these are the people that matter the most.   

"You can't let the cynics win", I answered, shutting my case, "It's their victory once they've seen that you've fallen. But if you keep your head held high, follow your intuition, and ignore the egotists, they'll learn that they've wasted their time. Focus on you and the people who'll cheer for you."

I feel at peace after letting all of those sentiments out. Happiness is truly a weapon that can extermine hate.

A buoyant giggle emits from the hornist, "Is that really you, Mina?"

"This is the 'Mina' that I want to be", I smile so hard that my eyes begin to close, "And I'm happy with her."

Sana's eyelids flutter, blinking away a few tears, "You did overcome, huh?"

I tucked a stray strand of red hair behind my ear, "I guess. And what about you? You're okay after your dad died?"

"I've been okay", Sana laughed, "But just because I accepted my dad's death doesn't mean that I forgot about him. There will be times where those memories will spring up and I'll start to become emotional, but then I'll remind myself that he's not truly gone and that I'll meet him again soon."

"Does that show through your music?"

"Sometimes it does", she says softly, "Especially heroic ones."

I snug the horn case back into her hands, "That's why you'd be perfect for Siegfried."

Sana nodded, letting her dimples show as she accepted her instrument with compassion, "Thanks, Mina. I'm glad that you're becoming more brave." 

I supported Sana up to her feet and we held hands while walking back to the rehearsal area. Her fingers bore the innocence of a young girl — soft, delicate, and small, yet they were also the same hands used to play that all-mighty horn. She nailed the horn call in Siegfried first time around, fearless and undaunted.

And that reminds me: there's another fear that I need to overcome as well. I'm tired of being dishonest and uncomfortable with myself.

BONUS (Survival of the Fittest)

Friday: February 19, 2021

The slender Taiwanese girl seated herself in the corner of Indie Food and Wine, her cello case resting in the chair on her left as if it were another person. Her large eyes skim over the menu, occasionally making a flit towards her instrument case because she doesn't want to go through the same ordeal that Dahyun went through in Paris. The other diners seemed relatively calm and composed, too indulged in their books, but Tzuyu knows that New Yorkers aren't the most trustworthy people. She experienced that kind of culture shock firsthand when she rode the subway for the first time, during rush hour when an alluring thirty-year old attempted to abduct her three-hundred thousand dollar cello by flirting with her.

Tzuyu isn't eating alone either. Jennie just happened to bump by the tall cellist on her way to class, dropping her books and music folder in front of her. Tzuyu isn't heartless enough to just ignore Jennie, so she dropped to her knees and assisted the clarinetist by picking up the fallen sheet music that was dispersed all over the floor. At that moment, Jennie wanted to thank Tzuyu by treating her out to dinner.

Tzuyu's parents are at home and she's living with Dahyun in a project home in The Bronx, thus she's not in the most financially stable situation. She accepted Jennie's request with grace, even though she's confused by the exceedingly generous offer just for returning her belongings.

"There you are!" Jennie exclaims from the doorway of the establishment, "Punctual as always, eh?"

Tzuyu sets the menu aside, "Where have you been?"

"Teaching kids in the pre-college division", she explained, hauling a vacant chair to sit in front of Tzuyu, "Apparently, a fifteen year-old Chinese kid talked about your interpretation on Elgar's concerto and how you sounded like sweet cream to his ears."

The cellist raised an eyebrow, "Chinese kid?"

"His name is Chenle."

"Oh", Tzuyu hiccuped, "He's my mentee."

Jennie set her spoon down after swirling her latte, "And apprently, he has a crush on you. Sowon, the other cellist mentor, confiscated his phone because he texted his friend during his lesson. No joke, Sowon read his text messages out loud and he said that he wanted to "do it" with you."

"That motherer", Tzuyu hissed, eyes flicking to her cello and then back to Jennie, "I told him that I have a girlfriend."

The two girls continue to talk about feminism,  politics, the new U.S. president elect, Queen Elizabeth II, the 2012 Olympics, Edward Elgar, and the BBC Proms over café lattes, kale salad, pastrami and club sandwiches. Somehow, Tzuyu and Jennie wind up being the last standing customers at the restaurant. There is an antsy waiter relaxing in one of the booths, itching for the two girls to leave so that he could get off work. Much to his expense, Tzuyu orders bread pudding and the waiter has to hold off for another hour or so, just to wait for the two girls to finish their dessert and demand a check. Jennie slips her credit card into the sleeve of the checkbook, hands it to the waiter, and Tzuyu gleams at her.

"I'm surprised", the cellist rasped, brown eyes blinking at the clarinetist with wonderment, "I haven't had a fun night like this in a while."  

"I'm happy to hear that you quit smoking too", Jennie smiles back.

"Cigars became expensive", Tzuyu mentioned, "I have rent and cello maintenance to pay for too."

Jennie nods slowly, "True."

Tzuyu turns to her, balancing her cello case in her hands, "Thanks for dinner. Have a good night."

"Wait", Jennie moves in front of the cellist, "Where are you heading?"

"I take the Number Two train to The Bronx and then walk down to Mott Haven", she elucidated.

"Coincidence. Me too", Jennie said, "I get off after Central Park North. Let's ride the subway together. It's dangerous to go out alone at this time."

And so they went — slogging down Amsterdam Avenue until they reach the subway station at 72nd Street and Broadway. The snow from January is beginning to disintegrate and make way for the upcoming spring season, leaving thin terrains of ice on the sidewalks and the roads. Tzuyu slipped twice trying to catch up to Jennie while heaving her bulky cello case. This chick just walks too fast, Tzuyu thinks.

When Tzuyu and Jennie board the train, they're alone in the same car, yet not a single word was shared between the two. Jennie sets her purse on her lap to extract her smartphone, devoting herself to an unforeseen phone call from one of her friends. Tzuyu believes that it's one of The Six.

She feels uneasy at Jennie's over-the-phone talk because her tone of voice suddenly fluctuated from amazingly sweet and courteous, to menacingly flippant and impudent. Jennie is speaking in her native tongue too, and the only other Korean member of The Six that Tzuyu can pinpoint is Jeon Somi. Halfway through, Reina's name is brought up and things can't become any more suspicious than this.

Once Jennie stuffs her phone back into her purse, Tzuyu makes an attempt at a light conversation-starter, "W-We should eat out again."

"Tzuyu", she began, shooting her most alarming frown, "I'd love to play buddy-buddy with you, but let's get real here. I didn't bring you on this date to become friends with you. Heck, I would never make friends with anybody associated with Mina."

"I don't get it", the cellist felt a sting of confusion in her chest, "What do you have against Mina?"

"Mina took home every award she could get her hands on", Jennie mumbled through gritted teeth, "Mine, Reina, Somi, Yuzuna, Karen, and Shuuka's parents always compare us to her. It was always 'why couldn't you be more like Mina?' I hate it."

Tzuyu stared at her, trying to convert her nervous energy into spoken words, "I don't think Mina meant any harm. You have to understand that it was never easy for her to be in that position. She thrived under the harsh expectations of her parents, who wouldn't be satisfied if she had gotten anything but first place. Her backstory is on the news and online too. I don't understand how you don't know any of this."

"You're just unaware. I've known Mina longer than you and her personality matches that of an entitled, haughty, and privileged son of a b—"

"Mina is different now", Tzuyu interrupted, "You're the one who is unaware."

Jennie snarled and stood up from her seat, and now she is chest-to-chest with the taller girl, "I'll just have you know that we're not going to go easy on you guys after Reina and her boyfriend had to pay back Chaeyoung's family."

She knew it. The Six wouldn't even dare hurt Mina because of her crazy fanbase established on campus, so they would do this indirectly by hurting one of Mina's friends. The Six had always been fed up with Chaeyoung since the beginning, not just because she caused Juilliard Orchestra rehearsals to be extended, but because Maestro GIlbert agreed upon admitting her into the ensemble after a second chance at an audition — a right that none of the other auditionees were warranted to. There are competent students who couldn't get in until their third or fourth year.

They sought Chaeyoung — a short girl with a hearing impairment — as vulnerable. The percussionist may have a knack for martial arts, but she wouldn't dare utilize her abilities against The Six. Doing so would only cause controversy to arise and physical assault can lead to expulsion from Juilliard.

"Really?" Tzuyu sighs, wobbling in response to the train's unsteady movements, "Are you guys just too afraid to confront Mina face-to-face?"

Jennie diverts "Chaeyoung is the reason why Reina's parents aren't talking to her."

"Reina deserves that."

*SLAP*

Jennie's hand cracked upon Tzuyu's left cheek, like the snapping of a stick or the lash of a whip. Tzuyu was done with her crap, so she grabbed Jennie's shirt where the fabric met her collarbone, and then the she looked down at the shorter girl with blood hot in her eyes. The clarinetist realized that she underestimated Tzuyu's strength. That girl lugs around a cello case to and from school every damn day.

"You need to wake up and act like an adult", Tzuyu jeered as she took a sharp breath through her nose, "If you want to be better than Mina, you need to ing work to get better than her. Mina is improving and becoming stronger every day, but are you?"

"Honey. This is the classical music industry", Jennie's voice was sure, "It's about survival of the fittest and it always has been."

"Then why don't you work on building your own strengths instead of undermining others and resorting to being a whiny little ?"

"The did you just call me?"

"Honey", the cellist mocks, "It's the truth."

"You can't touch us!" Jennie discards Tzuyu's arms, "The Spectacular Six are like a cactus."

"The six of you are a cactus because everyone is a prick!" she retaliates.

This heated exchange comes down to a cat fight between the two girls, in which there's hair-pulling, wrestling, and kicking involved. Neither Jennie nor Tzuyu are skilled combatants, and on the inside, they're both afraid of drawing blood and leaving bruises because the police would get involved. When the train comes to an abrupt stop at Central Park North, Jennie falls backwards and nearly hits the rear of her head against the steel interior, supporting herself by latching onto the train ring above. This inelegant, childlike fight is neutralized and counterchecks any further harm. They're both exhausted and satiated in hunger, and it's well past midnight which is why Jennie and Tzuyu are getting antsy and aggressive.

"Remember what happened to Nayeon when she left The Six? Remember her Snapchat nudes and her drug controversy?" she laughed, exiting the train and entering the platform, "You have until the last day of the opera festival to give Reina her money back, or else."

"Chaeyoung doesn't owe you anything", Tzuyu challenged, "Stop turning this into one of your high school soap operas and grow the up."

"Survival of the fittest!" Jennie repeats.

A/N: I apologize for being late on updating. Winter break is over and a new semester of college has begun. A lot of stress has been resonating within me in an attempt to get the classes that I want. I've also been blasted with a lot of homework on my first week back, so I couldn't find ample time to write. In return for making you guys wait so long, I'll give a little insight as to what's going on in the next chapter :)

By the way, Pristin isn't a cover group. They're actually an official group now.

Next Chapter Preview:

So I came out to my aunt, uncle, and grandmother, and this is what happened.

----

Sunday: March 21, 2021

"San Francisco, here we come!"

Characters