The first rehearsal was January 30th, right after school, in the Caldecott Theater. Fortunately, the theater was about fifteen minutes walk from the school.

"This is it?" I asked, awed. Holmes grabbed my wrist and doubled-checked the address I had written there. In permanent marker. Oops. But oh well, I wasn't likely to forget, was I?

"Yes, this is it," he said, letting my wrist drop.

"It's... beautiful..." I murmured as we walked forward. A row of oversized steps led up to the towering marble columns. Once behind the columns, we found ourselves facing a huge black doorway. Etched into the door were wild roses, and I reached out a hand to stroke one.

Holmes, indifferent, pushed the door open and we entered.

The floor was covered in plush velvet carpet, and on either side of us a sweeping staircase led to the mezzanine and the balcony. We walked forward through another doorway and found ourselves in the theater. Rows and rows of cushioned seats were illuminated by a tiny line of footlights. The enormous stage in front of us was lit from all directions, and I could see people milling about.

"This is cool!" I said appreciatively.

We walked forward and starting climbing steps to the stage.

"Name?" asked the nasally woman from the auditions. She began flipping through pages on her clipboard.

"Sara Watson," I said.

"Fifth row back, sixth seat," she whined, pointing. "Name?"

"Sherlock Holmes."

The woman's face came alive. "Oh, Mister Holmes! It's a pleasure!" she said, pumping his free hand. "Of course, you know where the concert master sits!"

Holmes glanced back at me and I rolled my eyes. He smiled and went to the front of the stage.

"Mister Holmes!" said the man at the podium. "Welcome, welcome. I am Mr. Hailey, the conductor." Holmes had his hand pumped once more. Mr. Hailey was tall, with sandy brown hair just a shade lighter than Holmes'. His blue eyes were sparkly above rather chubby cheeks. All in all, he looked like somebody's grandfather.

I found my seat and shrugged out of my private school jacket. The lights made the stage hot, so I took off my blazer as well, glancing around. A boy in the front row was watching me, and when I looked his way he smiled and winked. I scowled and was about to make a very rude gesture when someone spoke.

"Excuse me," said a soft, timid voice. I looked up.

"Victoria!" I said, gleefully, "You made it! What chair?"

"Fifth."

"Excellent!" I scooted over to let her by.

We began unpacking our flutes. "So, Victoria, where do you go to school?" I asked.

"Please," she said, with a giggle. "Call me Vicky. And I go to Fairland High." (Author's note: Bwhahahah Piano Ann!)

"I go to Hopkins," I said sliding the head joint in.

"I noticed," Vicky said, indicating the green tie around my neck.

"Oh, I know, isn't it hideous?" I moaned.

Vicky giggled.

The other flautists slowly began to arrive. Most of them were older than I. The first chair was a tall, gangly girl with black hair down to her waist. She looked about eighteen. Then came an Irish looking girl, maybe sixteen. A girl with short brown hair was next, about sixteen as well. I watched, open mouthed, as the prettiest girl I had ever seen, about my age, sat in the foruth chair. Which left Vicky and, finally, me. Last chair. Oh well.

"Attention, attention," Mr. Hailey said from the front. "I'd like to welcome everyone to the first rehearsal of the Greater London Youth Symphony Orchestra!"

I cheered.

And I was the only one - my voice rang out and echoed into the silence. I bit my lips and felt the color rising to my cheeks. Every head swung in my direction.

There was a moment of very uncomfortable silence. "Um," I said softly, "If any one needs me I'll be under a rock."

Vicky started to giggle, then covered her mouth guiltily. But the bug was started. I chuckled, then snorted, and suddenly everyone was laughing all out, including Mr. Hailey. "I can see we're going to have a very interesting season," he chuckled.

I grinned.

But, as it turned out, I had no idea just HOW interesting...