Blood, Sweat, and Hanon - A Ranger's Apprentice fanfiction

Chapter Four - Alyss

The audition room is a large, empty classroom, the desks and chairs stacked neatly to one side. Ms. DuLacy sits at a desk on the far side of the room, and a music stand with a few sheets of music is arranged just a few steps into the room. The room seems even bigger as Alyss walks across it and hands Ms. DuLacy her score.

Ms. DuLacy looks up from her writing and smiles at Alyss. "Hello, dear," she says. "What's your name?"

Alyss swallows, her throat suddenly dry. She manages to get enough air to say, "I'm Alyss Mainwaring."

Ms. DuLacy scans down the sheet of paper in front of her. "Oh, yes, I see," she said. Then she looks up at Alyss. "Oh, I remember you! You got into the Conservatory on full scholarship."

"Yes, ma'am," Alyss squeaks.

Ms. DuLacy nods approvingly. "Excellent. I enjoyed your audition videos, and I look forward to hearing you play in real."

Ms. DuLacy is tall and slender, built similarly to Alyss, and her blond hair, beginning to streak with silver, is caught up into an elegant bun at the back of her head. She wears a stylish gray silk blouse with a pretty diamond brooch shaped like a laurel branch.

"So, tell me about yourself, Alyss," Ms. DuLacy says.

Alyss tries not to panic. She reminds herself to breathe, and is gratified to hear her voice come out sounding confident.

"I'm sixteen years old and I'm from Norgate. I've been playing the violin for twelve years. I'm an only child, and my parents died when I was two. I lived with my grandmother until she died a year and a half ago, and I lived in a foster home until I was accepted here." She smiles in spite of herself as she continues. "I am thrilled to be here. Attending a conservatory like Redmont has always been a huge dream for me."

"I'm happy to hear that," Ms. DuLacy says, then goes onto business. "Have you tuned and warmed up?"

This is the part Alyss is comfortable with. She's been in this situation before, and she knows how to control her nerves from this point on.

"Yes, ma'am," Alyss said.

"Could I please hear a G-major 3-octave scale, four notes to a bow?"

And so it begins. For the first five minutes or so, Ms. DuLacy throws scales of gradually increasing difficulty at her. Then arpeggios. She does well on the scales, but a few of the arpeggios are a little rough.

Ms. DuLacy makes a note on her sheet. "Alyss, would you please play the music on the stand?"

So it is sightreading next, Alyss thinks. She doesn't play right away, but first glances through the piece, noting down the key signature and time signature. She also notices that it has fingerings already written in, for which she is extremely grateful. There's nothing worse than having to figure out fingering as you go.

Only then does she begin to play, slightly under tempo. The first page isn't too bad - she somehow gets through it without missing more than one or two notes - but she has a little bobble on the last line on the second page. It throws her off, and she never quite gets back on.

"Thank you, Alyss," Ms. DuLacy says, making another note. Then she opens Alyss's score. "Romanza Andaluza? This is one of my favorite pieces."

She nods at Alyss. "You may begin at any time."

Alyss hold her violin down in front of her, closing her eyes. She sees herself onstage in the auditorium of the community center back in Norgate, where she'd played the Mendelssohn violin concerto with the community orchestra two years ago. Only this time, she is the only person onstage. The auditorium is empty, the seats flipped up to their resting position. 

Alyss raises her violin to her shoulder. She lifts the bow to the strings. She takes a breath, and begins to play.

She finishes with a flourish, still onstage in Norgate. The sound of clapping startles her back into reality.

Ms. DuLacy is clapping - for her?

"That was excellent, Alyss!" the teacher says. "I'm impressed with your ability."

Alyss blushes. "Thank you, ma'am," she murmurs. "You have no idea how much that means to me." She does her very best to forge this moment into her memory. She never wants to forget it - Ms. DuLacy, clapping for her. Ms. DuLacy, impressed with her playing ability. It could be something that never happens again.

Ms. DuLacy makes a final note on Alyss's evaluation sheet and slips it into the stack with the other completed forms.

"I enjoyed hearing your audition, Alyss," Ms. DuLacy says. "Ensemble and studio placements will be posted in the main hallway after the orientation."

"Thank you, Ms. DuLacy," Alyss says.

Once she gets outside the audition room, she leans against the wall for a few minutes, trying to get her brain back. Across the hall, Sophie glowers at her, but it doesn't bother Alyss any more. 

She heads back toward the orchestra room to put her violin back in its case. The room is almost empty now; most of the other students have already finished their auditions and have gone to dinner. Her battered black canvas case, so dull next to the expensive, shiny, brightly colored cases of the other students, is against the wall where she left it.

She struggles with the clasp for a moment with her free hand - why don't they make cases easier to open when you're carrying a violin? - and finally swings the top open. She gasps. Her brand new cake of rosin has been shattered, and is crumbled across the inside of her case.

There's a folded sheet of paper on top of the mess. With shaking hands, Alyss sets her violin and bow down next to her and reaches for the paper. She unfolds it.

In perfect, delicate script, it reads, Go back to where you belong, peasant. There's no place for scholarship students at Redmont.

Furious, Alyss crumples the note, throwing it across the room. Her ecstatic post-audition feelings have vanished, leaving her fuming. 

"This is ridiculous!" she exclaims aloud. "Who would do something like this?"

"Like what?" a voice behind her asks. 

Alyss turns to see George standing behind her with his viola. He must have just come from his audition.

She clenches her fists. "Someone smashed my rosin all across the inside of my case!"

George comes closer to see the carnage and winces. "Wow," he says.

"'Wow' is right," Alyss grumbles. "Now, not only do I have to clean out my case, but I have to order new rosin! This was a brand new cake!"

"Hang on," George says. He quickly packs away his viola and bow, and comes over to sit next to Alyss. "Tell me the whole story."

"I came straight back here after my audition," Alyss says. "I went to open my case, and I found this." She gestures angrily at the mess in her case. "There was a note on top telling me that I don't belong here."

"Do you have the note?" George asks.

Alyss only points across the room to the crumpled ball of paper on the floor.

George gets up to retrieve it, and uncrumples it, smoothing the paper out as he sits back down. 

"I don't recognize the handwriting," he remarks, and then he finishes reading the message. 

"This is awful!" he exclaims.

"You don't say," Alyss says, half-sarcastically. 

He looks at Alyss pityingly. "I have to warn you, Alyss, a lot of the students really hate scholarship students."

"You don't say," Alyss says again, a little more vehemently.

George continues. "Most of them come from well-to-do families who can afford the tuition here," he said, "so they don't need to rely solely on their talent. Scholarship students do, so we tend to be at a higher level."

"We?" Alyss questions.

George grins at her. "Yes, we," he says. "I was accepted on scholarship freshman year. I've been around so long no one really bothers me."

Alyss finds herself smiling back at him. Maybe she won't be in this alone after all.