Page 114 of Encounter

My only saving grace was that I went second. I wasn’t sure how long I would’ve been able to wait and listen to all the talented, wonderful people going on the stage before me. This way, I had less time to have a mental breakdown.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. There are so many people out there.

Carefully, I poked around the corner to get a glimpse of the audience. I really didn’t think there would be such a turnout.God. Parents, families, random musically-inclined looking people. All of their eyes were on the stage—like they were going to be on me, listening and observing every little mistake, every falter.

“Your first time?”

Blinking, I turned around to see a girl around my age, with long hair twists and glass violin in hand. She gave me such a calming, worried expression, I figured I must have looked even worse than I felt.

I smirked anxiously. “Erm... Something like that.”

“I like to imagine there’s a wall between them and me,” she continued in her soft voice. “That way, they only hear my music. Nothing else should matter.”

Even though she tried her best to help me—a complete stranger and her competitor—the moment I heard the clapping and ovations, my stomach dropped even lower and my heart rate went out of the window.I’m next. Shit, shit, shit, I’m next!

Knowing I had to get it together, I stretched my fingers and took a deep breath. “Thanks for trying to help.” I turned to her with a smile. She still looked at me with concern, no anxiety of her own in sight, only confident brilliance I always lacked.

When the previous contender appeared backstage, I could already hear them announcing my name.

“Good luck,” the girl quickly put two and two together, giving me excited thumbs up.

There was no going back now. “A wall, huh?” I turned to her before stepping onto the stage, voice trembling. “J-Just imagine a wall,” I whispered, tensed up every muscle in my body, and walked.

The lights blinded me for a moment, and once again, I was shell-shocked by all the sounds blurring into an incoherent, terrifying buzz attacking my senses. I did my best to put up some kind of presentable face, but I most likely grimaced like the panicked, sweaty mess I was.

As much as I hated meeting the eyes of even one audience member or judges, Ihad tolook. No matter how many times he disappointed me, or how much I wanted to finally break away from the torturous need to make him proud, I still looked for Dad.

Knowing my brief glance wasn’t enough, I sat down at the piano, telling myself that he probably was there somewhere.Hopefully, at least Zola is.

I closed my eyes and positioned my fingers on the keys. The piano was the same brand and type I had at home, which made things much easier. Everything else, though, was the entire opposite of what I was used to. All the eyes, the whispers, the lights—I felt it eat at me, claw at me. Trying to conjure up the melody in my head became near impossible with my merciless heartbeats escalating and clanging like church bells through my mind.

How long was I sitting there? I couldn’t tell if seconds or minutes passed.

They are all looking, wondering what I’m doing.

I should’ve drank some water. I feel like I’m going to pass out.

Exhaling shakily, I stared at my hands. The wall I tried to imagine next to me, separating me from everyone else, kept crumbling at every slightest sound like it was made of dry sand.This isn’t working.

Scared more of the reaction to me not doing anything than failing, my fingers glided across the piano keys, but I was disconnected, playing with my brain instead of my whole person. I was going to make a mistake, overthink, falter—and then, what waited for me was an all-out panic attack right on the stage.

Chast’s words echoed in my mind as it tried to find a way to settle.

“The one you played the first time I heard you. What was it?”

“First movement of Gaspard de la Nuit, by Ravel.”

“You should play it. Suits you.”

Smirking, I remembered the time I played it for him on video-chat. By the time I was done and turned my attention to the phone again, Chast was sleeping like a baby, with a smile on his face.

Imagine you’re playing for him.Only him.

The music did the rest of the magic.

My body and mind finally joined in the same tempo, and the muscle-memory took over. The melody became my wall, erasing everything but the rich, comforting emotions it brought. All of my worries disappeared—even the competition wasn’t important anymore.

As the last note sounded in my ears, I blinked and opened my mouth, catching my breath like I was propelled back into reality from some higher state of being.

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