"Yes, I'm Bella Swan." I answered him stepping forward while giving a big smile.

He checks his paper, "You're time is 10:45, but just hang on for a minute. They're just getting another refill on coffee. Eric, could you grab the next batch of kids from the student center please? We have a cancellation for the next slot."

Eric nods to Mr. Banner, then gives me an encouraging smile before walking towards the front door. When I look back at Mr. Banner I notice he's appraising me from head to toe.

"You look a little out of sorts, Ms. Swan. Is everything alright?"

Should I confess now? Or would that give me "sympathy points" opposed to actual "yes, you can sing points"? Ugh, I don't know! I don't want sympathy. I probably shouldn't say any—AAACHOOOO!

"You appear to be sick. Are you alright to sing today?"

Well, too late now.

"Yes, both. I am sick and I would like to sing today. I leave early tomorrow morning so I can't reschedule."

(Cough, cough) Ugh, now I'm wheezing!

Dear God, I hope I don't have bronchitis!

"I understand. Do the best you can and I will announce to the panel that you are ill so they will take that into account. Not to worry. Do you have your papers with you?"

"Yes." I hand over my audition papers and music to him.

"Then come right this way. They should be ready for you now."

He opens the door to let me inside the audition room. As I make my way inside I see a long line of people behind a long table. The big room is covered in dark wood paneling along the walls and ceiling, with four large windows dressed with thick maroon curtains over looking Berkeley School of Music. I hear my heels echoing on the hardwood floors as I near the front of the room. There, on a small three-foot high stage, sitting at a grand Steinway piano, Edward is waiting patiently for me to get into place. I notice, as I make my way on stage, Edward has no music set in front of him. He must have memorized both of my pieces. That is remarkable... and just a little intimidating.

Please don't mess up, please don't mess up!

I finally reach my spot at the crook of the piano, then I slowly turn toward the back of the room. The panel of twelve people are sitting facing me with pencils, papers, and coffee behind a long white table. Then Mr. Banner addresses the panel.

"This is Isabella Swan... or Bella... her number is 1275."

Jesus, I hope that isn't the number of auditions they've heard up to now. If so... I'm so screwed!

Mr. Banner clears his throat, then continues, "Bella has informed me that she is feeling ill today, but would like to proceed with the audition. If you're all caffeinated up, let's get started."

Then the blond gentleman, who's sitting in the middle of the panel, speaks in a calm soothing voice, "That we are! Good morning, Bella. How are you today?"

"I seem to have caught the plague, but otherwise I'm just peachy." Everyone in the room laughs, including Edward who is smiling with his arms crossed sitting behind me.

Hmm... good crowd. This might be painless after all.

"We understand traveling is difficult, especially during winter. We'll try to make this quick and easy so you can get home and recover."

I like this guy. "I appreciate that, thank you."

"Let me introduce you to whom you will be singing today. My name is Carlisle Cullen, and I'm head of the voice faculty here. Working from the far left of the table, you know John Banner, voice teacher. Danielle Cope, music coach, James March, our musical director. Victoria March, our opera stage director. Bree Tanner, German diction and voice teacher. Stefan Rollen, vocal pedagogy and voice teacher. Laurent D'Ambros, voice teacher and French diction. Aro Volturi, Italian teacher and director of the master chorale. Vald Brooke, voice teacher and director of the women's chorale. Caius McFarland, voice teacher. And on very end is the dean of our music department, Marcus Klaus. And you've already met your accompanist for today, Edward Cullen. Whew."

Okay, I'm not going to remember any of the names he just told me... but just smile and nod Bella.

"That's a mouth full isn't it, Carlisle. I told you so," Mr. Banner laughs by the door.

"It sure is. I'll pass the torch back to you for introductions, John. So Ms. Swan, what would you like to sing for us today?"

It's almost over! Just breathe...

I cough a little to clear the phlegm from my throat. "'Ain't it a pretty night' from Carlisle Floyd's Susannah."

"Good. When you're ready."

I glance at Edward and see that he is waiting for some kind of signal from me. So I take a low, deep breath to calm my nerves and to get into character. When I exhale, the first few notes of music begin to fill the room. Immediately, I can tell the room has beautiful resonance and excellent acoustics. I can hear the echo of the notes bouncing off the walls; this will definitely work to my advantage. When Edward finishes the first few bars, and cues my entrance... I wait for the diminuendo and glance around the room over the panel's heads, as if looking at millions of stars in the sky. I quietly float the notes of melody, singing the first phrase of the aria.

Ain't it a pretty night

Edward plays the echo of the melody I just sang... then artistically begins to accompany me as we collaboratively create music together.

The sky's so dark and velvet like

And it's all lit up with stars

It's like a great big mirror

Reflecting fire flies over a pond...

Edward follows my breaths and phrasing beautifully, almost like he can read my mind. Where I pause or add more rubato, he is right there with me. Finally, we get near the end of the aria... everything builds to a grand crescendo, while I sustain my high notes for the phrase, "...when I've seen what's beyond them mountains."

Then suddenly the music falls silent. I wait for his fingers to play the delicate theme of the aria once again, before I repeated my a cappella phrase, "Ain't it a pretty night." I sing the rest of the aria pianissimo with a delicate vibrato, which Edward reciprocates with the piano.

He is remarkable!

We end the aria together, leaving sad, yet wistful notes floating through the space of the room...

I break out of character the moment I hear Edward release the suspension pedal. Then everything falls silent.

I glance at the twelve members of the panel staring up at us on stage. Some have looks of wonder, others look unsurprised, the rest are still writing critiques or notes down on their sheets. I turn my head a little to show my thanks to Edward. His expression is the most surprising, he looks touched... almost emotional. I turn my head once more toward the panel when I hear Carlisle speak,

"Are you sure that you are sick, Bella?"

I take a sip of water, then blow my runny nose, "Quite sure, sir. In fact, I may be dead to the world after this is through."

They're so nice and welcoming. It doesn't feel like a trial or execution at all. I want go here! I hope I get in!

An older lady with salt and pepper hair speaks up next, "Do you have enough energy left to sing a part of the Nicolai for us? You don't have to do the entire aria."

Oh, please God, I hope I still have my high notes! I'm getting more hoarse as we speak.

"Yes, that would be fine. Would you like to hear the ending? After the cut...?"

Why did I just say that?! That's where the high F is! SHUT IT, SWAN!

"Yes, that would be fine. Is that alright Edward?"

Edward speaks to them while facing me, "I believe so. Is this where you mean?" He plays four bars of music absolutely perfect, and I am once again agog.

I realize I just missed something he said. " Huh?"

"I said, is that where you meant?" he was smiling once again.

Dang it! Stop being so charming so I can concentrate!

"Yes."

"Great, when you're ready Ms. Swan and Mr. Cullen."

I take a breath once again and Edward begins the measure before my entrance. I begin singing my up-tempo aria, "Nun eilt herbei" from Otto Nicolai's The Merry Wives of Windsor. I love singing in German. It feels familiar and I understand everything I'm saying... I can act the crap out it! When it comes time for the final scale, I follow the piano all the way to the high F and hit it staccato, then end with my money note, a sustained high E flat down to the B flat. Finito!

I did it! I hit the high notes! Oh, thank the lord!

Doing the happy dance! Shit they're talking again!

"That was excellent, Bella! Truly, we never would have guessed you were sick if you hadn't told us. There will perhaps be a time when you have to perform sick or under the weather; today showed us your technique is strong, and how committed you are just by being here today. So we thank you for your effort. We have a few closing questions then you will be done for the day."

Hallelujah! "Alright."

"How many languages have you studied up to now, and do you know any of them fluently?"

"I have studied German for one year, three years of Spanish in high school, and bit of French and Italian from my undergrad. French is my weakest though. I don't speak any of them fluently... but I'm hoping to change that."

"Okay. And why did you choose to apply to The Boston Conservatory above all the other schools in the country?"

I think about that question for moment before answering, "Because I really became inspired by the city of Boston and the artists that have graduated from the conservatory here. But first and foremost I wish to study with the faculty here. I believe this curriculum is the best match for my goals and education."

"Thank you. Why do you want to get your masters in opera performance?"

I don't have to think about this answer. I prepared several responses to various questions on the plane I thought they might ask before or after my audition.

"I want to become the best performer I can be. Eventually, I would want to teach and direct... possibly at a collegiate level, but I need performance experience first. Performing is my first passion anyhow, then teaching."

"I see. I have one more question. What made you want to become a singer?"

I look at him and the rest of the people in the room. Then I simply say, "When I sing... my parents always said it makes others around me happy, which makes me happy. There's really nothing else in my life that gives me insurmountable pleasure and excitement as performing on stage. Honestly, I don't go a single day without singing something... it's the norm for me."

Carlisle nods his head then smiles at me, "Thank you, Bella. That's all for today, thank you so much for coming to sing for us. You'll be contacted with the results as soon as possible. Good luck and we hope you have a safe trip home. And please feel better soon!"

"Thank you... everyone. Have a great rest of the afternoon."

As I make my way toward the exit, I see a few members of the panel converse with each other while others scribble notes on their papers. Before I make it to the first step off the stage, I am stopped by a hand on my shoulder and hear a melodic whisper in my ear, "Wait for me outside the door?" I turn my head slightly to Edward, then nod my head knowing he can feel the movement. I exit the room with chaotic butterflies in my stomach having a fiesta.

What could he possibly want? Oh my head... ugh. I need a Tylenol and 24 hours of sleep!

I wait for a few minutes outside the audition room, pacing the floor as Eric gives his next speech to the new batch of vocal applicants. Just then the door swings open gently and Edward makes his way outside and softly calls my name.

"I'm here. Was there something I forgot? OOPH!" I accidentally step toward him too close. I reflexively grab his forearms to balance myself, then nervously gaze up at his beautifully proportioned face. His skin is pale with a few scattered freckles. His eyebrows are perfectly arced shape, and his nose is small but very straight... my favorite feature from this angle is his strong jawline with a bit of stubble. His hair is such a gorgeous shade of bronze with a few low-lights of brown and a bit messy. The only thing I can't see is the color of his eyes, because they're hidden behind the dark shade of his designer glasses.

Jesus, he must be at least 6'2, 'cause my neck is starting to hurt looking up so high. OH...I'm still holding on to him!

I finally decide to take a few steps back to give him his personal space. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to... um... grab you. I'm just highly wobbly."

"No, not at all... it's alright— I...um—"

Why does he seem so nervous?

"—I just wanted to tell you how... excellent... I thought you were."

"Oh... thank you. I'm sure you've heard many other good singers this morning... your hands must be exhausted."

"I switch off with another student throughout the day. So it's not so bad... but it was a breath of fresh air to hear someone with your set of pipes sing that Floyd aria. I can't tell you how many bad singers I've heard today alone... it was refreshing... and I don't know... I think you're really talented. I could feel all the emotions in your voice. It was very... remarkable. I'm sorry I'm rambling."

"No! No! It's alright. That's very reassuring, but I have to give you partial credit for memorizing my music like that. You play like... I don't even have the words."

"It helps that I've played both pieces more than a billion times. Anyhow, I just wanted to let you know that I have a strong feeling you'll get in."

"Oh. Well, thank you... for the confidence boost. I'll need it to get by the next few months while I'm waiting night and day by my laptop for a response from one of the schools I applied to."

Edward furrows his brows before he tentatively asks, "What other schools have you auditioned for?"

"San Francisco Conservatory, Manhattan School of Music, Julliard, and USC."

"Wow, you've been busy."

"You have no idea! I'm so sick of the airport... literally! Please don't stand too close. I'll never forgive myself if I infect an innocent bystander, or have you remember me for the wrong reasons."

"I doubt that would be possible, you bowled over Eric Yorkie, sang two killer arias while being very sick, and you still have a positive attitude and sense humor... that's pretty memorable."

"You're too kind."

"Actually, I'm hungry. How about you?"

"What?"

"Would you like to get a bite to eat? I have an hour before I have to be back for the next round of auditions."

"Oh... uh."

"Come on... there's a place that's excellent right across the street. They have great soup too, made specially for sick opera singers." I stare at him in a confused stupor.

He's asking me out to lunch... say something you twit!

But you're seriously about to pass out here, and you probably have a 102 fever! Ask for a rain check!

There may not BE a next time! Say something!

"Sure... soup sounds great. But if I pass out on you, please don't call the ambulance, call a taxi."

"If that's what you wish, but there's no pressure if you're not feeling well enough."

"No, I'll be alright. All this soup talk is making me drool."

He laughs a little then casually says, "Do you mind if my friend comes along?"

"Not at all."

"Brilliant. Harry, come on." He calls out toward the hallway behind me that leads to the back stage of the audition hall. I see a yellow lab stands up from the shadows under the stairwell, and slowly saunters toward us. Edward holds out his hand as Harry positions himself just right so his master can grab his harness. I pick up my bag then casually say,

"Lead the way Harry, you're buying this time."

Edward chuckles a little at my lousy joke and starts down the stairs, toward the back exit of the conservatory. "I tell him that every time, but he always forgets his wallet."

Once we're outside, Edward stops on the stairs in the cold wind, then faces me. "I think we're going to be great mates, you and I. Andiamo, Bella!"

Did he call me by my name, or did he just say "Come, beautiful" in Italian... it must have been my name because he obviously can't tell if I'm pretty or not.

Don't be ridiculous, Bella.

I begin to follow Edward and Harry down the street.

As we enter Woody's Pizzeria, I realize I just made my first friend in Boston... that definitely is enough to put a smile on my face for the rest of the day, despite how crappy I feel.

I just hope today isn't the last time I will see him.