Melodies of Rival Hearts

Prologue

I heard the clicking of my heels across the marble floor. Every motion was echoed throughout the silent room, with peers awaiting my performance. I stood with my head up high, ignoring numerous people in the audience. Focus, Cordelia, it's just a recital. As I made my way to the big baby grand piano, I tried to cool down and remember my starting pitches.

I closed my eyes briefly, letting the atmosphere fade around me. It's just the piano and me. I exhaled, lifted my hands, and straightened my back's posture. Remember everything Maestro Giovanni taught you. My fingers spontaneously pressed the right notes in a fast tempo to Allegro in D Major by Mozart.

As the audience around me gazed at me and judged my talent, I felt tranquility in my fingers gliding across the piano's 88 keys. I tried to keep my brain from getting too distracted and focused all my energy on this one piece. The church where I was performing did not exist. It was only the piano and me.

When I realized the third-to-last measure had just begun, I played the ending as dramatically as the piece demanded. I smiled once I saw the audience's hands clap in unison at the end.

I adjusted the bench that I was sitting on so that I could stand up. My Maestro was just behind me and immediately gave me an embrace once he heard me finish.

"Bravo, Cordelia. That was beautiful." His smile stretched across his whole face, revealing two wrinkle lines at the sides. His thick, strong Italian accent showed his satisfaction with my performance through his comments.

Making my way down the stairs of the church where I performed, I found one section of a pew available. There was only one more act after me. The only act left was a man named Atticus playing the cello.

Atticus walked up the steps leading to the stage. He got his cello adjusted and waited for the crowd to get silent. He closed his deep blue crystal eyes and placed his bow on the instrument. He immediately began to play one of the most difficult pieces that I had ever seen in a cello book. Is he going to pull this off?

When he started to play, my brain could not fathom how wonderful he sounded. His intonation was superior, his dynamics were sharp and smooth, and the way every note echoed from his cello left me in awe.

A pang of envy mixed with adoration coursed through me.  How did he play so effortlessly?  My heart pounded in my chest as I watched him command the stage.  He was born to perform, every movement a perfect symphony between man and the instrument.

The audience blatantly felt the same way I did because when he was done with his piece, the whole room decided to stand up and clap in unison. I clapped slowly, my eyes drifting to the paper listing the recital's participants that I had been handed. Where have I seen Atticus before?

Then it hit me.  He was my biggest rival in my school, Da Capo Institute of Music.