Legend ➨ [ Italics used in dialogues = characters are speaking in English ]

➨ [ Italics used in narration = character's thoughts ]

Glossary:

Ricochet - bounce of the bow on the string setting off a series of two or more successive notes.

Pizzicato - playing technique that involves plucking the strings of a string instrument.

(Stage) Spike - /in stagecraft/ a marking on the stage, usually made with a piece of tape, used to show where set pieces, actors, performers and other items are required to stop or be placed during a performance.

Arpeggio - playing technique in which notes of the chords are to be played quickly one after another, instead of simultaneously, in a rising or descending order.

Andante - at a walking pace.

Malinconico - melancholic.

Animato - animated, lively.

Allegro ma non troppo - "fast, but not overly so," cheerful, lively, fast.

Più allegro ma non troppo - more cheerful, faster.

Virtuoso - genius, person highly skilled in music.

Pakeha - a Maori term for white people, especially New Zealanders of European descent /not derogatory/.

Kiwi -  New Zealanders /not considered offensive/.

Crescendo - gradual increase in loudness.

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December, 2012

In a small Aucklander venue it is held the local Secondary School Division's annual violin competition. Half of the contestants have already presented a classical piece of free choice for the first round, and so far, the jury is a little disappointed. Some performance is outstanding and tremendous, yet monotonous and repetitive. Almost all of them had brought a composition by the most famous composers, in particular, at least a dozen played 'Ballade in A Flat. Op. 47' by Chopin, 'Caprice No. 24' by Paganini, or 'Violin Sonata No. 9' by Beethoven.

Fortunately, the last participant had brought something new and different, but the flaw is that he chose Bazzini's 'La Ronde des Lutins, Op. 25', an extremely hard-to-play piece that requires great bowing techniques achievable only with many years of experience. Thus, he messed up the ricochet bowing and the left-hand pizzicato, though he started well. On top of that, he was off-key.

Even the few spectators present are getting a bit bored. Some have fallen asleep, while others have their heads down to look at the phone. Honestly, the audience has only come to support the competitors with whom they are related, correlated, affiliated or whatever. Most don't know anything about classical music. Among them are Ashley and Loren, along with the whole Park household―yes, even the chauffeur and the housekeeper―and Alice's boyfriend. They are all eager for a certain 15-year-old girl's turn, whose name starts with an 'R', and ends with an 'e.'

"Miss Roseanne Park," announces loudly someone, "Please step up on the stage."

From the darkness emerges a young Asian long-haired brunette girl who advances onto the stage to place herself on the spike made with adhesive tape. Her brown hair is half pulled back in a ribbon that matches her long light blue polka dot slit dress, which shows her confident steps. Once positioned, she bows to the audience.

"Go, Rosie!" cheer her friends from their seats, waking up some spectators and earning disapproving looks from some judges. Roseanne can hear her father shushing them.

She smiles and then closes her eyes to get her focus back. Pure silence allows her to hear her accelerated beats. After sighing, she puts the violin under her neck and over her raging heart, and gestures to the piano accompanist that she is about to play.

The accompanist begins to play, and at each contact of his fingertips with the keys, the piano emits notes. Roseanne joins seconds later. She makes the strings vibrate with her bow, and touches it swiftly with her finger, then the other, and so on. And in a union of different bow , harmonic sounds spread throughout the auditorium. Immediately, the jury recognises what the young lady is playing.

It is Saint-Saëns' 'Introduction et Rondo Capriccioso, Op.28'.

It is another masterwork still not performed by any previous competitor. A few assessors seem pleased by her piece choice. As she proceeds skilfully with her virtuosic arpeggios and chromatic scalar passages, classical music experts await the most jaw-dropping moment of the Saint-Saëns' composition―the transition from andante malinconico to animato.

When it finally comes, the bored and indifferent faces of the judges take on a surprised and confused expression. Others are stunned, others shake their heads with distaste, and one returns impassive.

Since it was another piece not recommended for novice violinists, they expected everything, her missing a note, messing the melody or starting late or too early, but never what they have in front. What are their ears listening to?

Roseanne is playing it in a totally different style compared to the original score. It is so unique that she even manages to impress the audience. They even doubt it belonging to classical music. And they are not wrong because when Roseanne read and studied classical authors, her head conceived them in a modern way.

She defines herself as a modern violinist, looking for sounds for her violin without limiting it. She wants to modernize the image of the violin which has remained classic for too long. She feels it a necessity playing with her own style, and proposing it to others without fear of judgement. She tries to convey her emotions, experiences through her stringed musical instrument.

Energy, love, freedom, passion.

For her this is the beauty of playing an instrument, it is a path that we undertake on ourselves, on the strong development of our sensitivity, will and ability to say something true and real, to arouse emotions in the audience by putting our own into play.

Rapid bow , agile fingers moving fast but gracefully, her peaceful yet passionate and focused expression, and her slight head and body movements accompanying her forearm in its magic―Roseanne has cast a spell on the audience as they are enchanted by the powerful performance. Everyone can see how incredible she delivers the intensity and the light yet really dark tone of the piece. She goes from allegro ma non troppo to più allegro.

And just as she finishes her overwhelming performance, cheers and a round of applause erupt in the whole concert hall. She's got a standing ovation from her friends and father. Roseanne bows in gratitude.

"Bravo! That's my daughter."

"Virtuoso Rosé!"

"Y'all can Roseanne's non-existent di―" before Loren can shout the inappropriate word, Ashley shuts his mouth up.

The young brunette violinist looks at them from the stage, and tries to lower the tone of her laugh with a hand. She feels content. However, her heart is longing for someone else's presence, but this emptiness will be filled in three months.

დ

"Far out, that's rat," comments Loren, "I can't believe you didn't make it to the next round."

"Maybe if you weren't so vulgar, she would have."

"Don't be a wally, Ash," he rolls his eyes and is about to answer back, but Ashley impedes him.

"I swear if they've disqualified you because you have such a being as a friend, I'll permanently sew his big mouth and slap those stupid judges," says Ashley menacingly as soon as she can literally keep the boy's mouth shut.

Loren manages to remove his friend's fingers from holding his lips, "The judges were just envious. They can't accept the truth that a 15-year-old Asian is way better than them. It's totally rigged. Otherwise, they have hearing problems."

A week has passed since the first round of the violin competition, and only yesterday morning the results came out. She shouldn't be surprised, she had honestly expected it given how she had played the classical piece. With her own style. When her parents asked her if she moved to the next round, she simply told them the truth, and they gave her a pitying smile. She didn't want and didn't need it. She was fine. She can do better next time. She was happy to have performed, to have transmitted her passion in just ten minutes. She was really happy. Really.

She smiled at them to show that she hadn't been affected. She also went out with her friends yesterday, and they had fun, they ate ice cream, she and Ashley teased Loren, Loren ran after them with Ashley's skateboard. It was a sunny day, so it was a shame to waste it. In short, she was fine. She was really fine, but she doesn't know why she burst into tears when she heard her best friend's voice later in the evening.

As soon as his name appeared with the stars on her screen, the emotions she was convinced she had and didn't have hit her abruptly, and when she accepted the call, she couldn't resist anymore. 

She attempted to lie, using her sensitivity and saying that she was crying because of a K-Drama, in which Gong Yoo starred in, but as always, he could read her from a distance, whether it is of time or space. He just knew.

The girl told him how the audience had applauded her and how happy she had felt having introduced other people to her art. It was just a prize, a title. The important thing was to express herself through music. And he let her speak.

"But I also wanted to be recognized, I really hoped for their validation," she admitted. It seems like her art is too modern to please those who love the classic, but too classic to please those who love the contemporary.

"You surely don't need that, and they clearly don't understand art. You could not replicate the piece because you're original. Remember what you told me, Chae?" Roseanne shook her head and whispered a 'no', "I tell you a lot of things."

They chuckled, "Let me refresh your memory, you once said, and I quote, 'An artist should have creative nonconformity to be able to create a masterpiece'. Do you remember now?"

"Maybe," she smiled, and he continued.

"Those judges may not like your music, but many people definitely do... I do," he said, making his best friend chuckle, "Remember our discussion on which of the moon and sun is better? You said, although the moon is only an astronomical rock that orbits the Earth, it is the celestial body most loved by poets, most looked at by lovers, and most painted by artists―"

"And it's not a star," they said at the same time, and the brunette giggled, tears long gone, "Yeah, I remember now. Thank you, Gguk."

"Good night, my Moon."

As she finishes remembering their phone conversation last night, a hand shakes in front of her head. Roseanne realizes that she has stood like a marble statue looking inside her locker.

"You okay, Rosie?" asks Ashley and looks inside her friend's locker too, "You were looking dreamingly at something, but I only see books... don't tell me you fell in love with our textbooks."

The black haired girl wiggles her brows at the brunette, but suddenly a hand pushes her face away from the vision of the latter.

"Loren, you ratbag!" hisses Ashley.

"Calm down, she's taking in yesterday's result... surely had a bloody mare last night. The ing judges didn't even deserve your performance. A total sh*thole of competition"

"Right, Rosie you are the real winner, the most memorable violinist of that day. That competition wasn't worth it."

"Copycat," has muttered the long haired boy, but the black haired girl hears him.

"I am not, you egg of a muppet."

"You've just repeated what I said in other words, and was that an insult? I could do better, Assley."

"It's not my fault that I express myself better."

"Then you admit that you are copying me, fake Nirvana fan," he attacks and Ashley gasps dramatically, putting a hand on her chest, right on the just mentioned rock band logo, "Excuse me?".

"You are excused."

"You try-hard goth, wanker―"

Roseanne bursts out laughing, she can't hold it anymore. Her laughters are lost in the chaos of students in the school hallways. Her two friends are staring at her happily. They have achieved their goal. Finally they see her smile genuinely. Yesterday they noticed that something was wrong, but they ignored it because they knew Roseanne. When she is upset, she tends to smile, laugh and joke a lot, and yesterday was a little hard not to ask questions because if they had asked, they would have gotten nothing. Despite appearing outgoing and cheerful, the brunette is the type of person who does not open easily. You have to wait for her to come to you to know what's going on. And this morning they've received their answer.

So this is how the three friends have spent the morning before attending the first classes of the day. Then it's time for lunch, and the canteen is full as always.

The canteen is likely the only place in the school where one can see how the students are divided into various groups, which are distributed among the numerous tables in the large lunchroom: there is the table of the Pakeha, the Maori, the mixed group, the popular, the nerds, the Asian nerds, the cool Asians, the losers, the cheerleaders, the rugby team and so on ... and then there's the trio of Roseanne, Ashley and Loren. They can't be labeled as they are very different from each other―a bizarre combination of a violinist, a tomboy and a goth. 

The trio makes their way to their usual table, near the public restrooms and the waste bins, but not too close. For them, it is the perfect place not to walk miles and undergo others' stares, to be in peace, to stay away from the line of hungry students eager to fill their trays.

As always, Ashley and Loren bicker like an old married couple, and then there is Roseanne, who just looks at them amused. It's a daily routine for them. All three were born in the same year and have Korean descent, and although Ashley and Loren have known each other since the third grade, they only became friends in year 7, thanks to Roseanne. 

This is because Ashley appeared to people as an aggressive girl, ready to devour you if you take a wrong step. This even now, but a little less. Loren, on the other hand, thought she was just a bully, who loved putting on rock, and punk band merch to look intimidating. He hated her skateboard that disturbed his quiet mornings as she asked the passers to make her way because she had to pass. While Ashley didn't like Loren because the latter always glared at her, even though she hadn't done anything to him. If he didn't like her, then she didn't either. Nothing simpler than that. In reality, all of these things were misunderstandings. Who knew these two would become great friends? Nobody, well, except for Roseanne. She was the missing puzzle for their possible friendship. She was the calm between Ashley's rough sea and Loren's thunderstorm. 

"Hey."

Their conversation is suddenly interrupted by an unfamiliar blond boy who is probably a year older than them, wearing proudly his varsity jacket with the school rugby team logo embroidered on his jacket that hugged his tall and buff anatomy. He is the typical arrogant jock. The trio is wondering why he tapped Ashley's shoulder to get her attention.

"Oh ! I thought you were a she," he exclaims, clearly faking his sorry , and cackles come from the jocks and queen bees table.

"What do you mean?" Ashley shoots him a death glare from her seat. The jock steps back when he heard her very femenine voice.

"Wait, you're really a girl!?" His eyes widen and they move to his friends' table, looking for help.

"You dumb rude blind eggsh*t! I am a she." 

"They chose the wrong target to mess up with," mumbles Loren, but Roseanne hears it. He's right. The long haired boy continues to eat as if it were nothing. There is no need to defend her friend. She's a tough girl who hates being treated like a weakling. Ashley probably has more balls than all those jocks combined and a sharper tongue than those queen bees vipers.

"Calm your , it was a simple unintentional mistake."

"Unintentional mistake is your teeny-tiny d*ck," she retorts. Roseanne covers in shock, while Loren chokes on his drink and almost spits, and now the students that are around them turn to look at the scene. Others even record with their phones.

The blond jock is taken aback by her comeback, and his male ego is clearly hurt. He wants to scream in her face, but looks at his friends who are sniggering. One of the queen bees speaks, "Choi, relax. Caleb is new. He has likely mistaken you for a boy, because your clothes and your flat chest scream so. Fortunately you have long hair to say otherwise."

"You little bit―"

"Oh please, I have long hair too," Loren butts in even though he told himself he wouldn't. 

"You are a boy?!" the blond asks incredulously, making his friends laugh more.

"I see you've chosen death, mother