((YAY! Thank you for all your lovely comments! Yes I know I update sporadically. Junior yeardeath. And you know what I've found? String instruments are easier. I am not abandoning my beloved oboe, but…violin is easier! Does that make any sense?
Special thanks to Ren for your review…I'll be emailing you shortly, when I can squeeze out the time to, don't worry I will. I'm SO glad you like this little story of mine so much! And don't worry about being obsessive, if you think you're obsessive with HP, with my POTO obsession, I own 5 copies of the original novel as well as the soundtrack in five languages and counting, and…well, that's not where it ends at all. Les Mis is totally awesome you should see the musical, it has…well, the best oboe solo known to musical theatre. Brilliant book too, though it took me a month and a half to read it.))
The rest of my freshman year just kind of went on from there. I didn't get any more solos, although the band director did tell me that I did really well on the one that I thought I messed up on (I did? Since when? But I guess if he thought it was okay, then that was good because perhaps then I really would get more solos in the future). When it came time for scheduling next year, without a lot of effort I got into the wind ensemble, the higher band. I liked that idea because then finally I'd be able to play harder, higher level pieces. And maybe solos, because the wind ensemble oboist, Lycia, got lots of them this year. I heard every single one and hoped so much that I'd be in that position next year…so many solos, just out of reach, just a whisper away, waiting for me…
Chandler was staying with me, of course. I signed the form so I could borrow him over the summer. I was just doing it for legal purposes though, because I highly doubted that anyone even noticed that Chandler was being borrowed. I bet I could have easily gotten away with signing out nothing. But I did, just for the sake of precautions.
We played at graduation, which was slightly difficult because Chandler's thumb rest had fallen off and so I had to balance him with difficulty on my knee and keep him from sliding all about. But we did play, and Lycia complimented me on how loudly I played, which I felt was a good thing. It was fun playing at graduation, even if we did have to play "The Sound of Music", which was a musical I absolutely hated. Why couldn't we play something like…Phantom. Of course. It was the best musical in the world.
Wind ensemble though, was still the star shining just over the horizon. Next year it'd be great because I'd play harder music and get better. Maybe Lycia would think I was so good that she'd let me play some of her solos!
Then my mom would see. As soon as I had solos she'd see how good I was, how good me and Chandler was. She'd see how far we could go together. Damn their warnings, damn their lies, they will see the people rise! I'd been singing that to myself all year and I'd continue singing it to myself from now on.
For my determination only increased.
And in two weeks, I was auditioning for the state youth symphony.
Yeah, looking back I see it was a really dumb thing to do. But you know what it's like, when you're a freshman and you think that you can do absolutely everything just because you're not in middle school anymore. I think that's what this was, a bout of freshman egomania. All freshmen seem to have it, and it's quite amusing now, because they are freshman. But back then even I wasn't immune to that.
And so, this freshman belief of doing anything, I decided to audition for the state youth symphony. Things were working out pretty dang well until…well, until the day of the audition.
So I had this reed that was like, the best store-bought reed I ever owned. It was perfect and ideal and…it was the closest thing a store-bought reed could ever come to my someday junior year Reed of God. Even my teacher, though she was a flutist and knew naught of reeds, agreed that this one was particularly good.
The audition day came, and I was sitting in band with Chandler. We played a few songs when suddenly the Reed of Reeds (so I shall call it that, because it didn't quite reach the same level as my future Reed of God) ceased to play in tune. I blinked in bewilderment and took out the reed, examining it under my carefully trained oboist eye. It looked fine, what on earth could possibly be wrong? I put it back and played, but it wasn't playing. Still not playing, still not playing, hey, it was a good reed, what was wrong? I gave it a squeak, it was okay.
Sticking it back in, it worked, then abruptly ceased to work altogether. No! How could it not work? Oh jeez, was I forever to be doomed with unworking reeds? Nevertheless, I would get this one to work. I had an audition for The Uberest of Uber Youth Symphonies tonight. There was no way I'd go in without this reed. Prod, prod, squeak, water…why wasn't it working? Work confound you you blasted reed! You ARE the reed. As in THE reed. You can't not work for me! Work for me! WORK MY REED!
"Work for me!" I cried.
The bass clarinetist next to me gave me a weird look, then went back to his business. Oops, Phantom dork moment. There I am, commanding my reeds in a Phantomy voice in the middle of band…maybe I was losing it.
But the reed didn't work, despite my lyricking and mad oboe desperation. By the end of band I picked it up and looked at it and there, and there, was a tiny, hairline crack running from the tip to halfway through the reed itself.
Oh bloody flaming buggering…
The Reed of Reeds was broken.
I couldn't say I was surprised, exactly. I mean…these things do happen. It was the curse of an oboe player, to have broken reeds. In my very first 'solo', I had a broken reed. But this wasn't a solo! This was an audition! An UBER audition! And…and…no. Just no. But there it was, a crack in the Reed of Reeds, the most in-tune, working, store-bought reed I ever owned and there it was, dead the very day of my audition. Not waiting until after! But…this very moment during this very band class!
I banged my head on the stand. Kathryn, you idiot, you should have bought more. I had what, like, three reeds? But they were all really bad, only the Reed of Reeds worked. I couldn't audition on any one of those others! Why hadn't I prepared?
Well of course, who can prepare for things like that? Who can prepare for such disastrous, unpredictable events that befall oboe players! And right before auditions! Oh, what horror, what fate, what…
What was I going to do?
I had no idea. I couldn't go into an audition with those reeds! They weren't good enough, they didn't play any low notes (well, neither did Chandler himself, but with the Reed of Reeds, it even made Chandler's iffy low notes work!), and…oh, what was I to do? I had to do something. And I had to do it fast.
I was desperate. I had to do something. I first went to the two band directors, but they were oblivious to any oboey plights. Of course they had no reeds for me.
That day I went to the middle school to teach colorguard. When I got there, I found that colorguard was cancelled. But…wait! The middle school was terrible, but they did have a band room. Mr. Jameson was gone, I think he went to another school or something. Good bye and good riddance, I felt. But that meant that there was a chance that the new band director at least had a vague notion of what was going on. Maybe he'd have a reed! Granted it probably wouldn't be a good one, definitely not as good as the one I lost, but it would be something!
In my desperation, I flung myself into the old middle school band room. "Hello! Is anyone there?"
Out came the current band director. A rather tubby chap who I didn't recognize at all, but he knew me from the colorguard teaching apparently. "What is it?" he asked.
"I'm really desperate here," I began, throwing my plight right out into the open. "I have an audition today and my only decent reed cracked and is no more. Would you by any chance at all have a reed I could borrow? A new one? I'd pay you back like, tomorrow, or whenever I can, but really soon, I promise. Please?" I pleaded, clasping my hands together desperately.
The band director grinned and shook his head. "Ah, the plights of oboe players," He said. He went into the office and came back out a minute later, handing me a new reed in a case. It wasn't the type I'd normally use, but it was brand new. I mean new reeds aren't entirely good for auditions because they needed to be broken in but…
But I had a new reed! And it worked! "Oh, thank you!" I flung my arms out enthusiastically. "Thank you from the depths of my heart. I'll pay you back as soon as I can!"
"It's nothing," He answered, waving his hand. "Good luck at your audition tonight."
"Thank you!" I called over my shoulder as I ran out of the school, grateful that my reed problem was solved, and having to practice very much in the short time to go before we left.
"Kathryn, did you do your homework?" As soon as I walked through the door, I was immediately assaulted by my mom.
"Most of it. I'm almost done." I replied instantly. She scowled at me.
"You'd better be. If I have to take you to that damn audition today, you had better be."
I winced. My mom was in one of those foul moods that she gets in to every so often. I was used to it, she had been doing it for as long as I can remember. It was best to just stay out of her way until it passed. I was just hoping it wouldn't be on an audition day…
I went in my room to practice a bit with my new reed. Then my mom stormed in.
"Kathryn, you never practice!" She screeched. I blinked. What was I doing right now, fishing? "Never, you just sit around and do nothing. You don't clean your room, you don't help around the house, you just sit there and be lazy…"
Oh no. A tirade. When she was in these foul moods, everything was my fault. She went to yell at me for every fault, every shortcoming, positively everything you could imagine was my fault. She'd rip me up one side and down the other, me as a lazy piece of crap who never did anything. I still hated it; used to it, yes, but still hated it. No one liked being called worthless by their own mother. Or a lazy piece of crap. I had to do my homework. God, I had an audition today! Why did she have to do this now?
I endured a half hour of this, clutching Chandler so tight that his keys left shapes in my fingers and he complained loudly that I was squishing his Ab too tight. I closed my eyes, waiting until the tirade was over.
Finally it was, but by then it was too late to practice. I had to get my homework done. With a sigh I put Chandler away and did my homework, and before we knew it, it was time for the audition.
"Just get in the car," My mom sighed. Her mood was still on, there was no escaping it. And I had an audition. An audition, and she'd be yelling at me the whole time. There was no way I'd be able to get my mind in focus like this! Not with her screaming in my ear that I was lazy and never practiced. I had to make this audition, for my own peace of mind, and just to prove that I could do it, dammit, and even my mom could not stop me. Because I could do it! I had to do it. Just to throw it in her face that I wasn't a worthless oboist.
You're not a worthless oboist. Chandler said.
He believed in me. Unfortunate it was, that the only one who believed I could make something of myself as an oboe player was my oboe. No one else did. Especially not my mom, who was yelling at me at this very moment of how I was never going to make it as an oboist. On the way to an audition, too…
Don't listen to her, Chandler told me for the five hundredth time that year. I tried my hardest to listen to my oboe. Oboes were such sensible instruments! At least Chandler was, he had that strong oboe sensibility under his dreaminess and longing for an orchestra. It's why I loved that oboe so much, my dear Chandler. He believed in me.
"Shit," My mom said suddenly. "Shit, I went the wrong way." She did, she made a wrong turn. We went back, then another wrong turn was made. Then…oh soon we were entirely lost.
"We're lost!" I cried. "Lost, I'm going to be late!" Late for my first audition! What an impression that would make. First my reed broke, now we were lost…it was almost like something didn't want me to have this audition. Maybe it was a sign? A sign from the Angel of Music, telling me I should turn back now, I wasn't ready for an audition, I should try again later. He was sensible, maybe I should listen.
No, audition anyway. Chandler again. Audition even if we don't make it. For the experience. Now he sounded like Mr. D. Maybe he had spent too much time in the band room before I found him. I listened to him, trying not to think of the broken reeds and the getting lost as an omen.
Finally we found our way, but when I glanced at the clock…oh, shizz. The audition was in five minutes. My scheduled audition was in five minutes! There was no way to make it on time! My mom yelled again, now she was cursing on me for having the audition and getting lost. I went over my scales in my mind in order to block it out. A major had two sharps, F and C, A minor had no sharps at all…
"I think that's it," My mom said finally, as we entered the parking lot of a random building. Yeah, I think that was it, she was right. I vaguely remembered it from a fifth grade audition for the same symphony. That audition didn't even deserve a mention, because I wasn't serious about it at all, I was just doing it for the heck of it and really didn't care. But this one mattered. It would maybe launch my start as an oboist. It would give Chandler his orchestra. And even more importantly, it would prove to my mom once and for all that I could do it.
I had to make it in. There was just no other option.
We entered the building, and my heart immediately began pounding, my mind going off on a panicked thought. The last time I auditioned…I didn't care at all, that could be why I didn't get in. And I was reading the book Tales from Watership Down which was a good book. But this was four years ago, stop thinking about four years ago, you didn't have Chandler then or this desperation and passion. This year…oh, I could make it, I had to make it!
I could not be late…
Immediately I was met by a lady sitting at a desk.
"Excuse me?" I said, as polite as possible. "My name is Kathryn, I'm here for an audition, on oboe…"
The lady gave me a critical look over, from my slightly messy hair, to my Les Mis sweater, to Chandler, who instead of being in the tiny case of professional oboes, was in the rather large case belonging to an Armstrong oboe who was but a student instrument. Her gaze lingered for a long time on Chandler's large case.
"Yes, I have you down." She said finally. "Go in that room over there, you can go warm up there until your audition is called."
I went into the room, glancing around fearfully. There was a girl with a clarinet and a guy with a violin, both were warming up. Nevertheless, I took out Chandler, and the reed, and prepared my warm up. Mom sat next to me, her pitiless gaze scanning the other instrument players too competing for a place in this ever so prestigious symphony. "I bet they practice more than you do." She hissed in my ear. I ignored her, put my reed in, and ran up and down my major and minor scales. I couldn't believe that I had contributed every single one of them to memory! Neither could Chandler, even he had trouble keeping them straight and he was an oboe.
Then I launched into the piece, a happy, cheery little piece from my lesson book. Halfway through someone new came in, and sat a short ways away from me. I paused, taking the time to check Chandler over for anything I could have missed, while secretly trying not to freak out as that time grew closer. The girl next to me took out her instrument…
No! No don't look that way! Chandler quickly exclaimed. Of course I looked that way anyway.
The girl was one of those Oriental girls sitting there with an oboe. An oboe…oh Angel of Music, oh Valjean, oh Fantine, oh Christine, oh dearest candelabra from the furthest reaches of the house on the lake, oh red flag from atop Enjolras's brave barricade…an Oriental girl with an oboe!
I think this was the final sign that I should have just gotten up and gone home right now without even bothering to audition.
The girl took her oboe and immediately played up and down the scales at an inhumanly fast rhythm, then began her piece. Which happened to be one of those evil classical pieces for super super oboists that are populated by 16th notes to the point where you can barely see the staff lines that they rest on…surely everyone knows the pieces I'm talking about. It was one of those, one of those that I could never play even if Chandler and I lived to be five hundred years old.
It was at that very moment that the slim chance I had became no chance at all.
I was this close to fainting. I felt lightheaded and dizzy, like I was going to float away, even my grip on Chandler and his sturdy keys felt far away and vague. My heart seemed to want to take a life of its own and join my marching band, the way it was pounding. My hands began to shake and sweat, and I knew at that moment that if I tried to play anything it wouldn't work because my hands would shake so bad and mess up all of my notes.
I should just get up. Get up and go home, go home Kathryn and Chandler, there is no place for you here. Oriental oboe girl kept playing, oblivious to my near passing out. Mom, just a roll of the eyes. Ladies next to me who were writing down things were scowling when I made a feeble attempt to play "Angel of Music" just to see if I remembered it (I didn't).
And of course, as if things weren't bad enough, my name was the next to be called.
"Good luck." My mom said as I tottered off to the giant room with my music and Chandler.
The room was enormous, and the judges were all sitting at a white table with paper in front of them. None of the judges were under the age of 40. There was a single chair and music stand in the center of the too-bright room.
Don't worry! Chandler said. But I did.
I sat down hard in the chair and put my music in front of me. "Kathryn, is it?" said one of the judges.
"Yes," I answered.
"Describe your oboe and oboe career thus far to me." Hah. Career.
"I've been playing for five years, and my oboe Chandler here is an Armstrong." I began. Stupid, stupid, stupid! You don't tell the judges what your oboe's name is! Even if your oboe does have a name, you certainly don't tell it to the judges! Oh I bet they think I'm a psycho now. "I'm in the concert band at my high school and I had a solo in April. I'm so sorry if I sound bad, my reed broke today and I'm on a brand new one…." More stupidity. Kathryn, just shut up and don't say anything more.
"That's okay," Another judge said. "We've had many people make it in on broken reeds. Now what about yourself?"
"I like Phantom of the Opera and Les Miserables," I said a bit too quickly. "They're really good musicals and everyone should see them." Shut up…shut up!
"Ah, Phantom. I know the first oboist of Phantom."
"Melanie Feld?" I asked, then had to mentally slap myself again. Way to show them how obsessed you are, I thought. But the judge just nodded.
"Well, let's get this started then." He asked me for several major and minor scales and I played through those no problem, even with my shaking hands. Thank god I knew all of those by heart, that was simply glorious. Then I played my piece, with only a few minor problems that I tried to push out of my head.
Then there was the sight reading. A piece by Tchiakovsky…
And I never blew more at sight reading than I did that day. I collapsed and died before the first triplet was out, barely stumbling along with rhythms and key signatures and my sharps and the whole piece simply fell apart…no, not just fell apart, exploded and died into a million teeny tiny pieces at my feet. Totally. When I finished, I was closer to tears than I had ever been before.
"Thank you, Kathryn," A judge said. "We'll be in touch." I barely managed to nod before running out of the room, just in time to see Oriental oboe girl with her super oriental talent go in after me. There was no doubt she was going to get in. And I was willing to bet she didn't have a quarter of the passion or desperate need to get in that I did!
I didn't say anything to my mom for the rest of the trip, but I could tell that she knew and was silently gloating.
And it was all confirmed to me two weeks later, when once again the letter came…
"Thank you for auditioning, but
…better luck next time."
That's what they always said to me after an audition.
Even in my sheer desperation, I didn't see why this would have been any different.
