Chapter 2

A variety of instrument cases lay scattered around backstage, some open, some closed. The 40 or so orchestra members were busy getting ready and chattering quietly amongst themselves. Rosin was passed around the string players, white powder smearing their fingers. The sound of warm-up scales filled the air. Fingers were flexed and knuckles were cracked. Polishing cloths were waved around, and bows were tightened. Charlotte had gotten bumped around pretty badly on the crowded subway, and sat in a corner twisting the wooden pegs cautiously, tuning her violin.

Thomas Leroy stepped in from onstage, and everyone fell quiet. He clasped his hands together with that false smile of his.

"Good morning, orchestra! So glad to have you back with the company for this season. As you know, our first production is Swan Lake. You might think that everyone is sick of it by now, but I promise, this is a much more visceral version, stripped down to its bare essentials. Unique."

He paused for dramatic effect.

"I hope you've all been practicing. Such a complicated ballet like this—I know it must not be that easy to play."

There were some murmurs and a few glances were exchanged.

"Great! We start in fifteen, yes?" He looked around expectantly for a moment, then sighed and waved his arm. "This will not do! All your cases lying around like this. We need this space. Out, out. There's room in the back hallway."

And with that, he left to see to his dancers.