Emma in Exile

Six

Things were really starting to look up for Emma.

Other than one test, her grades were just as good as they'd been at her last school, and she was growing accustomed to spending long hours in the library. Half the time she felt like she was Hermione Granger, and the other half they basically just hung out but without the guilt of feeling that you ought to be in the library because you were already there. Her relationship with Matthew was stronger than it had been for years, and Mr. Bentley had written a really nice note on her last essay in which he complimented her "delightful and eloquent prose." Plus, orchestra had turned out to be really fun and their conductor extremely bizarre, so much of their practise was spent trying to stifle her giggles with Charlotte, who also played in first violin.

Such was the case during their rehearsal on Halloween. Leo, who seemed intent on proving that he lacked talent in all areas of trumpet-playing, had just blown unceremoniously loudly into his instrument during a quiet moment during the piece. Beckford had been so distraught that he'd immediately told them all to stop and began shouting at Leo, who simply nodded very seriously and interjected with the occasional "completely understand, sir," or, "my apologies to Beethoven."

"Mr. Charbonneau you know perfectly well that this wasn't written by Beethoven," Mr. Beckford said tersely, tapping his conducting sticks together.

"Of course not – dogs can't write. Good point," Leo nodded, "I suspect his owners wrote it down for him."

Emma pressed her hand to her mouth to keep from laughing, pressing all the harder when Charlotte let out a loud snort and buried her head in her hands, shoulders shaking. If not for Reed's sudden fit of laughter Beckford might have turned his attention to them, but as the entire cellist section was now unable to control their mirth their instructor instead threw his hands up in the air, sticks flying. "That's it! You are clearly so entirely dissociated from your creative spirit that nothing can help you now! Go," he covered his eyes with a hand and sighed loudly. "We'll resume next week, if I haven't forsaken the art of musical education by then."

The orchestra packed their things up and, after Beckford had swept from the room, Leo bounded over to the strings and grinned at Reed. "You owe me twenty pounds, it's been less than forty-five minutes."

Reed opened his wallet and pulled out a few bills. "I'd give you thirty just for nerve, but the Beethoven joke was pretty cheap."

Emma snapped the case of her violin closed and cast them a bemused look. Reed looked up just in time and smirked at her. "Don't give me that look, Emma Miller. I saw you laughing, too."

"That whole performance was like a joke in a Christmas cracker: so sad that you have to laugh, or it will just be pathetic." She smiled sweetly, "I was just doing my charitable duty."

Leo laid a hand over his heart. "Just know that your early freedom came at my own expense."

"Don't worry, pal." Reed clapped him on the back, "she was laughing long before the Beethoven joke. As soon as you shouted your apologies for that one wrong note she was gone."

"That's because the tragic look on Beckford's face was too hilarious to pass up!" She laughed at the memory and the way he'd accidentally dropped one of his conducting sticks in surprise and horror.

"When you played that one soft note super loudly instead?" Charlotte asked, looking between them all.

"No, when I played a B flat instead of C," Leo said with a smug smile. "The entire section was compromised." Charlotte stared at him uncomprehendingly. "You know, when there are the four bars accentuating the trumpets? I played the wrong note, quite loud, too? It sounded awful—just total rubbish. I'm pretty sure a single tear trickled down Beckford's cheek."