Page 84 of Best Year Ever

“Always?” she asks.

I nod.

“Like now?”

I kiss her again.

“And now?”

I really like this game.

She sighs happily. “Of all the time I’ve spent in this room, this moment is definitely my favorite.”

“Is orchestra class always like this?” I ask. “I’m wondering, because this is my only experience in a room like this.”

“Yes. Exactly. As far as you know, student musicians do nothing but make out and play songs.”

“Sounds like a pretty decent educational practice.”

“I’m solidly in favor of continuing this learning experience, but we should probably go find our seats.” She pulls my arm and we walk to the door where a student is taking tickets.

In the auditorium, the house lights are on and the room is filling. We sit in the red velvet seats and I watch Sage look around. “Different from this side,” she whispers.

“Tell me,” I say, turning so I’m facing her. She shifts in her seat, too, so our knees are together.

She talks about how the light’s different in the house seats than in the pit. How the audience voices are more distinct from these seats, as opposed to a wavelike murmur she could hear from below the stage. How relaxed she feels here.

This might not be completely true, but she’s working at it, and I run my fingers from her shoulder to her hand. I feel her tension unwind a bit at my touch.

“The very first time I played a concert in this auditorium, I broke two strings. It’s the only time I’ve ever broken two in one day. I was sure someone had put a hex on my violin.”

“A hex?” I ask. “Is that real?”

She pretends to glare at me. “Don’t you know all my worries are well-founded?”

“Okay. Sure. What did you do?”

“I always keep replacement strings in my case, but it’s not very subtle to change strings mid-concert. I had my case at my feet, and I tried to sneak my new strings on. Ghibli glared at me so hard I started to cry. Couldn’t see to finish the job. The two replacement strings just hung there, only attached at one end. I picked up my bow and played the other two strings. Crying the whole time. The next year, I was first chair.”

I know there’s a lot of story between the broken strings and first chair, and I’m so glad I’ll be able to hear it. To know we’ll be sitting somewhere together and she’ll tell me more. More details. More stories. More of what makes her Sage.

She tells me other memories of playing here, and I gaze at her, unable to pretend anything but total adoration. She’s got me completely hooked.

I feel a hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, doc.”

It’s Hayes Kline, the kid with the carbon monoxide poisoning. He’s grinning like he just got away with something. The expression looks very comfortable on his face, like it’s his usual. It’s not how he looked Sunday night, and I’m glad he appears completely recovered. Recovered, if not repentant. I have no doubt I’ll be seeing him in the clinic again for another prank. Hopefully not one that’s against the school rules.

I stand up and shake his hand, making room for him to pass. He and his date, Sage’s cousin Tessie, squeeze past us and into the next seats. Tessie whispers something to Sage, and they giggle and look at me. Sage steps close to my side. I have no idea what they were laughing about, but it seems harmless. And that the laugh was aimed not at me, but at Sage-and-me. As a unit. I like the feeling that we belong together.

As the orchestra warms up, I watch Sage’s face, her hands, her posture. She smiles. A couple of times, she closes her eyes and listens, nods. She has her fingers threaded with mine, her fingertips tapping against my knuckles as if she was pressing into strings to play notes. On her other side, her arm’s looped through Tessie’s. She’s enjoying this.

The lights dip and then come back, once and then again. The audience quiets down as the lights go all the way off. A spotlight hits the center of the stage and Wanda Chamberlain walks out and stands in it.

You’d be forgiven for thinking she was the main event. A roar of cheers accompanied the audience applause. Students stand, and Wanda shields her eyes from the lights and waves the kids down.

When the room is quiet again, she steps to a microphone stand and tilts it down toward her mouth. Even with her adjustment, it’s way too high. She pulls the mic out of its clamp and welcomes us to the evening’s entertainment.

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