Part II
Chapter Four

As this was a private audition, Mom only dropped Terrence off at Tillman, telling him she'd be back at four (Mac of course had left for Foster's, blurting out something about going to the park). Terrence, remembering where the music department was, found the building with no trouble, and headed for a corner of the lobby-like reception area outside the auditorium to wait his turn after giving his name to a man at a podium. He was looking for a chair when something made him look twice at a boy sitting nearby with a violin case across his knees. Recognition dawned slowly.

It was Billy Slocomb.

Terrence and Billy had been in the seventh grade together at Ferndale Middle School. Billy was small, and weak, and wore glasses, and had allergies, and was very smart. Terrence had quickly singled him out for "special treatment" and went out of his way to torture the kid on a daily basis. He didn't even commandeer the services of Nolan and the others, he just found Billy alone whenever possible and harassed the boy any way he could. Billy didn't have many friends, and he stayed after school a lot to study on the benches in the schoolyard so this was easy. Terrence got so comfortable with the arrangement that he even began to think of Billy as a Mac-away-from-home, so to speak, and he looked forward to tormenting Billy at school, coming home, and chasing Mac and Bloo to his heart's content until Mom came home. This arrangement ended abruptly three-quarters of the way into the seventh-grade school year when Billy suddenly stopped coming to school and Terrence learned his parents had transferred him to the middle school on the other side of town, where he continued to attend through eighth grade. Terrence hadn't seen him again.

Until today.

Terrence just stared at him. Billy was still small, still weak-looking, still wore glasses. His feet seemed to barely touch the floor. His mousy blondish hair added to his unremarkable appearance, and he stared down at the violin case in his lap with a detached sort of anxiousness. At once, feeling eyes on him, Billy looked up at Terrence, who stood there propping the cello case up with one hand. Billy gazed at him; he cocked his head just slightly, quizzically, and then, with a frown, said, "Terrence?"

Caught, Terrence flicked his gaze away for a second before returning it. "Billy," he replied, trying to sound casual.

"Bill," corrected the other boy quietly, and he looked pointedly at the cello case a moment. "Body?" he queried.

Completely baffled, Terrence scowled at the other teen. "Wh...what?" he asked.

Bill closed his eyes briefly, sighing softly - the same way Mac did whenever he knew Terrence didn't know what he was talking about. He looked Terrence in the eye. "Never mind, it was a joke," he said then, tapping his fingers on the violin case.

Terrence waited a moment, mentally daring Bill to remark on his new glasses, but when the other boy just dropped his gaze back to the violin case and fell mute again Terrence edged away, a bit gratefully. He hadn't wanted to talk to Bill anyways, not in this setting, and certainly not with so many witnesses. He would have to be polite, and it would be too weird.

But he had barely begun to head for another corner of the room when a familiar person stepped suddenly before him. It was Fae, and she was pushing a shiny black cello case. Adagio was not with her.

"Oh," Fae deadpanned, narrowing her green eyes and wrinkling her small nose. "You did come."

Terrence raised an eyebrow at her. "Yeah, so?" he blurted before his brain could tell his tongue to wait until it had thought of something witty.

Fae got a wicked look. "I hope your mother at least sprung for a delousing," she smirked. "After the obedience category the judges might give points for hygiene."

Terrence stared at the girl, frankly a little shocked at the rudeness.

"Boy, are you ever stupid," Fae went on, hand on hip. "No wonder you had to go to summer school, you don't even know when you're being insulted. Well, what did you bring?" she asked, changing the subject just as Terrence opened his mouth to blurt something.

"What?" he replied blankly, unable to switch his train of thought so easily.

Fae rolled her eyes. "Music?" she prompted in the most condescending tone imaginable. "What piece are you going to play for the judges?"

"Oh...uh...Alice."

That stumped Fae. "'Alice'?" she repeated. "Who's the composer?"

"Vrenna."

This was also beyond Fae's realm of expertise. "Well I'm going to play something famous. By a well-known composer." She tossed her blonde hair.

Terrence shrugged at her. "Yippee skip," he informed her shortly, and promptly walked away, trying to be as rude as possible. He heard a disgusted "Ugh!" behind him and was hopeful that he had succeeded.

Terrence wasn't called into the auditorium for more than two hours. Further practice wasn't an option but he didn't want to anyways. Instead he spent the time reading Mom's copy of Alice in Wonderland, which he had asked to borrow. He'd never read it before. He tried to enjoy it although it was nowhere near as interesting as the video game. He could see why Mom liked it so much, however; she had a thing for puns, and stuff that didn't make sense. Well, to each their own, he figured.

The auditorium, once he entered it, proved grandly intimidating - this was where Tillman held its concerts, and it was frankly one of the fanciest places Terrence had ever been in. After handing his sheet music to a runner he stepped out onto the stage, carrying his cello and bow, and hesitated nervously in front of the chair provided. A panel of judges sat at a long table before of the stage, dimly lit, and Terrence spotted Chess among them.

"Terrence Vaughn?" the woman at the center of the table stated more than asked.

"Yes," he said carefully, unsure of just how loud he should be speaking in this place.

The woman took the sheet music from the runner and looked at it; she turned from side to side, displaying it to the other judges. "Wasn't this piece available commercially printed?" she asked.

"Um...no ma'am."

"Did you do this yourself?"

"Yeah...er, I mean...yes. Ma'am." Terrence squirmed a bit as the judges all looked at him.

The woman picked up a pen and started writing something on the top of the paper, frankly alarming Terrence a bit. Was he getting a grade? Already? But he hadn't done anything yet!

"Terrence," said the judge, "when you submit your own arrangement of another's work, you are cheating yourself if you don't give the proper credit."

Terrence panicked inwardly. Did she just say he was cheating? His collar seemed to magically get even tighter.

Chess, who knew the boy, came to his rescue. "Don't worry, Terrence," he said, smiling. "She just means you forgot to put your own name on it. It's nothing to worry about. It looks fine. Now why don't you go ahead and play for us."

Feeling better, Terrence nodded and without further conversation he sat, arranged himself, and played the piece. In the big room it sounded a lot bigger than it had at home. When he was finished he stood up quickly.

"Thank you, Terrence," said the middle woman, smiling. They were all smiling kindly. Terrence tried to smile back, failed, and hurried off of the stage.

No sooner had he gotten backstage than his entire body seemed to revolt on him: his stomach bottomed out and his knees all but gave and his head spun. He tried his best not to fall right on his cello as he lurched to prop himself up against a wall as best he could. What the hell was he doing? Was this what he had worked so hard for? To go to a school where he had to feel like he was dying on a constant basis? The post-performance stage fright was one of the worst things he had ever experienced in his life - the adrenaline rush seemed to be threatening to terrify him to death. He trembled against the wall like a frightened rabbit for several minutes, not even hearing the next cello solo being played on the stage while he prayed for mercy. While he stood there the runner returned his sheet music, which he didn't even glance at. When the second wave of nausea passed he stumbled over to where he had left the cello case and put the cello and bow away; then he hurriedly meandered his way out the back door and into the much-needed fresh air, where he flopped onto the grass.

When he was finally able to, Terrence checked his watch. It was ten minutes to four. He had to start for the parking lot. Groaning, he got back to his feet, thinking about one of his grandpa's favorite phrases to describe someone who wasn't feeling well: "green under the gills." He idly wondered if fish ever got stage fright. Somehow he doubted it.

After Mom had picked him up and driven them home, she took the sheet music and stuck it on the refrigerator door. On the top right corner of the first page was now written in pen: Arr. by T.S. Vaughn.

End Part II