Practice Room 13: Reserved ---- A Juilliard Story

Chapter 1

Right when the plane lands is when the baby that has been screaming for three hours stops. How ironic. 

"Do we have everything John? I was thinking I might have left something, Madalyn you have everything right!" says my mother. She is  the control freak of the family.

 New York. The city of dreams. I have only been here once when I was five. I don't remember much of it but one memory I do remember is Juilliard. It was my mothers dream to show my into her workplace. She took me to see the winter concert. By the interval I had fallen asleep but my mother woke me up to show one of the students play the flute. A glorified recorder. 

However, the girl who played it manipulated her fingers round the keys to play the piece. Her deep black hair looked like thunder next to her almost snow coloured flute. "This is Vivaldi Winter," my mother whispered but I was completely zoned out. Just concentrating on the girl. 

Once she finished there was a eruption of applauds, people standing up, throwing her flowers as if she was a goddess. Her rosy cheeks covered with a smile nearly falling of her face. She took a short bow and returned to her seat within the orchestra. 

As a result,  once I was eleven, I paused my piano lessons and went to learn flute. Quickly falling in love with it. When senior year rolled around and college was on everyone's mind I knew the only place I wanted to go was Juilliard. 

The glorious blast of hot air that most people from Rhode Island always dramatically exclaim when they land somewhere hot and remember that the much of the world enjoys as climate which doesn't just veer between grey and cold. Sighing my mother removes her sunglasses and wraps her arms round my shoulder. "Your gonna love New York Maddie, I know you will." she smiles pecking my cheek. "Oh your so grown up, ah I remember my teenage years, going with your Auntie Claire with fake ID'S into clubs, having the time of our lives, oh those were the days." "Ok mom I don't really want to know how you and Auntie Claire spent your teen years but I'm not spending mine like your, I'm going to Juilliard, getting a degree and then I'm going to play my flute next to Leonardo DiCaprio when they remake the Titanic film." "Sweetie Celine Dion is an icon with a voice of an angel, I'm sure she'll send her thanks when I DM her next, I sent her four DM's on Insta a few months ago so we're effectively best friends."  "Mom that's not how DM's work!" I groan. God my mom can be the most embarrassing person I know.

 Once we reach the greenhouse that they call the airport, I spot a few other Juilliard students. A ginormous presumably Scandinavian boy yelling another language at the airport officials about how the bow of his double bass broke. That's is sad to be honest. A group of Korean girls signing each others lanyards with colourful sharpie huddle at a  stall at the entrance of the food hall. "C'mon I have a taxi booked by one of my best friends from Jersey, Michelle, she teaches viola at school Maddie," my mom exclaims not letting go of our hold. 

"Ahh Michelle! Oh my god I have missed you so much how are you? You look fabulous," my mom squeals doing the classic Italian two cheek kisses to Michelle. Michelle, a name that fits this fake tanned botoxed lady casually in five inch heels leans off her Black Porsche, pulls her Gucci sunglasses down to see my family before trotting over to my mom. "Oh Liz! How I missed you dearly, I'm wonderful and you," Through a breath says " you are gorgeous dear," Michelle purrs. Everything about Michelle was perfect. Her eyebrows are stronger than my parents marriage, perfect eyeliner and lashes that really popped. Her forehead was almost reflective and her thick lips perfectly coated in a champagne nude. All pulled together with her navy and white jumpsuit. 

A sharp snap of nails shock me out of my gaze at her. Michelle leans down to my eye level. I cant see hers but she is staring into mine. She smiles. "You kid, New York is gonna love you!" Michelle quotes in her silly New York accent. She then introduces herself to my dad and brother. Michelle claps her hand twice and calls over her chauffer Mateo.

Mateo was a middle aged man with a beer belly. His thick moustache covers the majority of his face including his mouth which makes listening to him with his heavy Italian accent quite confusing. "Ciao friends, were is the desired location?" his accent makes his posh sentence structure sound stupid. "Juilliard but take the scenic route wont you Mateo, we have fresh New Yorkers here!" Michelle beams. "I haven't been a tour guide since the start of the 90s, those were the days," 

We step into the sleek Porsche Limousine draped in leather seats with secret compartments hiding snacks. Michelle gracefully sits cross legged in the fancy armchair, my mother opposite her next to my dad on the couch. Me and my brother Thomas take singular sofa seats we later found that could spin. Thomas began aggressively pressing on a button labelled sweets. I can see my mom's piercing reaction, I nudge his shoulder and I watch as the colour leaves his face before my mom could even form a word Michelle pulls out a glass of French champagne already pouring five glasses out. Whilst she hands each one out she eventually comes to me and my brother. Referencing me to the glass I repulse at the overpowering smell of the alcohol. " I don't drink sorry," I state giving as nervous look to my mom. That was a lie, I love alcohol, unfortunately not champagne. "What! How? I love champagne I always forget Americans start drinking at twenty one, that's crazy because when I was your age sweetie I was drinking, in clubs in Milan with my friends every night," Michelle comments. She hands one to my brother who happily gulps down the glass. 

"Mateo take the black outs off I want our friends to experience New York!" 

Once the black blinds roll down I'm shook. We are crossing the Manhattan Bridge. The Manhattan Bridge. Before I know it were in China Town passing by temples and food places. My mouth drools at the smell of fresh noodles coming from one of the shops. Mateo must have cranked up the speed because we eventually reach the Empire State Building. Its tall and majestic presence looms over the city like a giant over a dwarf town. Passing Bryant Park, Rockefeller Centre and eventually we're next to Central Park. "Getta load of Broadway everyone," Michelle laughs through her sips of champagne. The trees shade the road that is covered with the classic New York taxis. 

After waiting about twenty minutes for a parking spot, Mateo sneaks in between a Crimson Toyota and a Navy Ford. 

"Your gonna drop your things off at your dorm and then head to the Peter Jay Sharp Theatre for the talk," squeaks my mom. 

I'm not even focusing till I read the sign glistening off the morning sun like little crystals. 

Juilliard

Dance, Drama, Music

AN: So sorry this chapter took twenty years to write. I had a massive writer block and didn't feel motivated to write any of this. I know its short but I promise the next ones I'm really going to extend. Enjoy your day or night ml xx