A week had passed since those terrifying auditions. Everyone had soon forgotten about it...except for Quatre.

/I can still see the hurt in his eyes, betrayal written all over his face. I can see his mother, laughing and cursing Mr. Driab for not letting her son keep first chair. I can see Elizabeth, the first chair cellist, upset. Meghan is too competitive.

How did Meghan get first chair in the first place? Even I thought she was too competitive. It was Mr. Driab's fault in the first place. He said that her and Elizabeth always ties for first chair. Elizabeth always won the tie breakers.

This time, Meghan went a step too far. She asked Mr. Driab to tape the two of them and let Mrs. Snillum seat them. Elizabeth gave up. It was all too much for her. Mrs. Snillum is a very strict teacher, and an extremely good one also. Of course, the person she said who was better would be happy, while the other would probably be upset for the rest of her life. Elizabeth knew who was better, but she didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings.

I saw the pain writhing around in her heart. Elizabeth tries so hard to put that aside, but she can't. Mr. Driab has hurt so many people. Me, Trowa, Elizabeth, Catherine...the list goes on and on.

Mr. Driab can't just hand me back my chair and pretend that nothing ever happened. He already destroyed my reputation, my love for music, everything that I hold dear to my heart. I've lost so many friends through that damn audition. I hate him. I won't forgive him. I can't forgive him. Every time I pick up my violin, I see the chips of paint that had come off. I feel as if each chip was a hole in my heart. I don't think I can ever look at the surface of my violin ever again.

People at my Arabic school are always saying how good I am at playing the violin...but it only takes one parent to say, "But Trowa won the chair audition. The only reason why Quatre is in first chair is because Mr. Driab let him. Probably out of pity."

That's all it takes. He's destroyed my life. That bitch. Sometimes I wish he'd die and go to hell, but that's not very nice. So now, I'm wishing that he would go away, and that I'd never have to see him again.

Trowa never seems to talk to me anymore, except in imperative times when he has to talk. I don't know what I can possibly do.

He was the first friend I ever had. I never had a single friend until second grade. That was when I met him at Arabic school. His parents made him go. Well, our mothers got along fine at the beginning. He always came over when his mom came over, and we usually played in my huge backyard. One time, we were doing cartwheels. He was a tad chubby back then, so he always did them lopsided. It was even funnier when he tried it inside. He hit his foot on one of the desks. I feel sorry for his foot.

If only the present could be like the past. Oh why was orchestra invented anyway?! I hate it. I HATE IT!/

Quatre's heart screamed with rage as he ran into the park. He couldn't stand it anymore He didn't even know if he could ever live this down.

The blonde sat down onto he swing. He knew he had been a bit rude to Trowa. He couldn't help it. His friend's mother had made him this way. Quatre sighed, and pushed his legs forward. He wanted to feel like a little kid again, when there weren't such complicated problems. He wanted everything to be easy like it used to be. But he knew that it wouldn't happen...everything was gone with the wind...forever...