The Broken String

The Broken Bow

Dresses. Are. The Worst.

After a short argument with my mother, which mainly consisted of me grumbling and her on the verge of screaming, I finally gave in to wearing the knee-length all-black dress we had bought for this concert. The school's first orchestra concert was always the Thursday night before school lets out for Christmas break.

My dress, violin case, and hair, which was neatly tucked in a french braid, all matched. I started to wonder why I liked black so much since it's not everyone's choice of color, but I just really liked it. I used to be a light-brown headed, sweet-looking girl, but high school kinda changed that. So, I guess the dress isn't so bad. It is black for all I care.

As we started to make our way out the door, my Dad took my violin case from me, examined it, and said, "There's a lot of scratches on your case. Are you sure you're taking good care of it?"

"I'm sure." A lie. I was the clumsiest person on earth.

He handed it back to me with a skeptical look before getting into the van. My Dad was an extremely good bass and cello player when he was younger, and still plays from time to time.

"Shannon, did you put on any make-up?" My Mom asked from the passenger's seat. "Just some eyeliner..." I told her as I took my seat.

"I thought you'd want to add some color to your face. You're so pale that you're starting to look like one of those... oh... what do they call them, Robert?" She asked my Dad.

"Emas... Emmys...?"

"EMOs!" Mom exclaimed.

My eyebrows raised then I let my entire face fall. "I can assure you i'm not emo, Mom."

"Well, you listen to their music... and you sound like an emo!" My Dad said.

I almost felt like laughing, but the fact that I was wearing a dress displeased me in general enough to suppress it.

The drive to the school was pretty short; It was about 10 minutes. As we searched for a parking space, my Mom grumbled about the people that kept walking in front of the car while my Dad was still stuck on the subject of me being Emo.

"Why would anyone want to stretch out their earlobes? Shannon, promise me you'll never stretch out your earlobes."

"I won't," I told him as I slid the van door open. We were kinda far away from the entrance but that didn't bother me since the temperature was so lovely outside.

I led my parents inside and followed the crowd of people heading towards the auditorium. My hand gripped the violin case as the crowd packed in tighter closer near the door. Tight spaces weren't exactly my cup of tea...

Once inside, my parents took a seat in one of the middle rows. I made sure of their seats, waved them goodbye, and left after my Dad shouted, "Good luck!". I made my way to the orchestra room, which was just across the hall. There, everyone was getting their instruments ready; rosining their bows, making sure they're all tuned, practicing their music. It was pretty crammed inside the room since the whole 11th grade orchestra was packed inside. I found a spare chair, set my violin case down on it, and unpacked my violin. My bow needed rosining so I took it out and began to glide the rosin on the hairs.

"Alright, everyone!" Mr. Owen, our orchestra teacher, began. Everyone quieted down at the sound of his voice. Mr. Owen always wore a cheery smile, his teeth as white as his hair (which was actually just a very light blonde and not actually white. He's old, but not that old, I don't think.). "It's the big night! You've all worked very hard for this night and what a way to kick off Christmas Break!"

The room erupted with clapping and cheering. One kid in the back with a deep voice even yelled, "YOU ROCK, MR. OWEN."

"Thanks, Richard," he laughed. "Anyways, is everyone ready?"