Chapter Three
Are You Busy?
I'm so bored.
I look down at my watch for the five-hundred-millionth time. Is the battery even working? I hold it up to my ear.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Still working.
It's only eight o'clock in the evening. I'm going to be here until lunch tomorrow, and I have no one to talk to and nothing to do. The epitome of boredom.
In the room next to me several of some of the musicians are watching a film from last year's concert. They are laughing, talking, and poking fun at the images of themselves.
"Oh!" I hear Scott shout. "This is a good one -- until the French horns come in a mess it up."
I smile. Scott is one of those incredibly talented people who plays over ten instruments, including French horn, nearly perfectly.
Lacking any other productive activity, I decide to walk outside. The night is cool and crisp. From the top of the hill I see the last glimmer of sunshine hanging over the horizon. A ribbon of rosy light intertwines with the curtain of night. Tiny stars twinkle in the black, velvet expanse above me.
In a nearby field I hear screams of laughter and delight as musicians take a break from practicing and play dark tag. But near me all is quiet and still. It is a perfectly beautiful evening.
Not very far away I see a person walking alone. His arms are crossed and he walks slowly, evidently enjoying the serenity of nature as much as I am. How smoothly he steps, with no noise at all. His grey form is difficult to distinguish in the falling night, yet as he turns and meanders to the building I see his face. It's the Legolas guy.
Starting to shiver I head back inside. Maybe something fun and interesting will be happening. On second thought, it's not very likely.
I open the door and plop into an empty chair. The movie is still playing. Below me I hear the ripple of notes rising from a piano. I tap my feet together, feeling awkward and uncomfortable.
"Joy!" I hear.
I look up. The band manager smiles at me over the pile of papers she's carrying.
"Busy?" she asks.
"Not really," I reply.
"Great. Want to do me a favor?"
"Sure, Karen."
"Excellent. Here, take this music downstairs, first door on the right, and make a copy of each piece for me. Think you can do that?"
She hands me the stack, nearly fifty sheets high. I look at the title.
"Awesome! Who gets to play Pirates of the Caribbean?"
"Nita's group," Karen says.
"No fair!"
Karen laughs and pats me on the shoulder. "Oh come on, Joy. Think what you get to look forward to."
"Strauss and Souza?"
"Exactly! Now remember, first door on the right. You can't miss it. And don't worry about taping, I'll capture some other volunteer for that."
I turn and head towards the stairs. Great, a "tete a tete" with the photocopy machine for the whole evening. Sounds enchanting.
Are You Busy?
I'm so bored.
I look down at my watch for the five-hundred-millionth time. Is the battery even working? I hold it up to my ear.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Still working.
It's only eight o'clock in the evening. I'm going to be here until lunch tomorrow, and I have no one to talk to and nothing to do. The epitome of boredom.
In the room next to me several of some of the musicians are watching a film from last year's concert. They are laughing, talking, and poking fun at the images of themselves.
"Oh!" I hear Scott shout. "This is a good one -- until the French horns come in a mess it up."
I smile. Scott is one of those incredibly talented people who plays over ten instruments, including French horn, nearly perfectly.
Lacking any other productive activity, I decide to walk outside. The night is cool and crisp. From the top of the hill I see the last glimmer of sunshine hanging over the horizon. A ribbon of rosy light intertwines with the curtain of night. Tiny stars twinkle in the black, velvet expanse above me.
In a nearby field I hear screams of laughter and delight as musicians take a break from practicing and play dark tag. But near me all is quiet and still. It is a perfectly beautiful evening.
Not very far away I see a person walking alone. His arms are crossed and he walks slowly, evidently enjoying the serenity of nature as much as I am. How smoothly he steps, with no noise at all. His grey form is difficult to distinguish in the falling night, yet as he turns and meanders to the building I see his face. It's the Legolas guy.
Starting to shiver I head back inside. Maybe something fun and interesting will be happening. On second thought, it's not very likely.
I open the door and plop into an empty chair. The movie is still playing. Below me I hear the ripple of notes rising from a piano. I tap my feet together, feeling awkward and uncomfortable.
"Joy!" I hear.
I look up. The band manager smiles at me over the pile of papers she's carrying.
"Busy?" she asks.
"Not really," I reply.
"Great. Want to do me a favor?"
"Sure, Karen."
"Excellent. Here, take this music downstairs, first door on the right, and make a copy of each piece for me. Think you can do that?"
She hands me the stack, nearly fifty sheets high. I look at the title.
"Awesome! Who gets to play Pirates of the Caribbean?"
"Nita's group," Karen says.
"No fair!"
Karen laughs and pats me on the shoulder. "Oh come on, Joy. Think what you get to look forward to."
"Strauss and Souza?"
"Exactly! Now remember, first door on the right. You can't miss it. And don't worry about taping, I'll capture some other volunteer for that."
I turn and head towards the stairs. Great, a "tete a tete" with the photocopy machine for the whole evening. Sounds enchanting.