Summer's First Colours

Chapter 2: Rivals- past and present . . . ?

Not knowing what I had done, the theory class had started.

“Okay so everyone is currently doing grade 5 or a bit of 6,” Rachel said. “Let’s start off with these test papers.” She handed us each a booklet. I stared at the sheet of papers, and felt like screaming.

“Rachel!” I exclaimed. “We don’t have to do that much, do we?”

“Well it’s to get you ready for your exam coming up in 2 months so you might want to get ready and practise a bit more . . . .”

“No but I have a violin concert coming up so I might not be able to finish it all . . .” I told her.

“Oh right,” she replied. “I just remembered that you’re also a violinist. How’s that going?”

“Wait you play violin? Miss . . . .” asked Tyler, turning around on his chair.

“Natalie,” I finished. “Call me Natalie or Nat.”

“Right . . .” he said. “Well Tyson and I only do piano but we do know how to play a bit of cello and guitar.” ‘Wow . . . so talented,’ I thought.

“I do a bit of drums . . .” Tyson corrected.

“Ah sorry,” he said to his brother. “So can we come and watch?”

“Well sorry but no,” I answered. “I’m not that good and we’re playing as a group so you probably can’t hear me . . .”

“Guys . . . do your work!” Rachel complained. “And speaking of concerts, we have one coming soon for piano though . . .”

“Huhh?!” we all whined in unison.

“Yes, it will be coming soon and I expect every one of you to do well so I’ll give you a song next week.” I wondered what song I was going to play as I thought about the concerts. Many of the previous ones had been really bad and I failed to do as well as the others so I wasn’t particularly looking forward to it.

“Great!” said the twins. “I’ll practise heaps until I beat Tyson/Tyler!” At the end of the class, they both walked out of the studio happily.

I looked at Rachel. “Those two seem really energetic . . .”

“Yes I think so too,” Rachel agreed. “I’ve had them as my students ever since they were 5 years old and both of them always walked into the studio with smiles on their faces . . .”

“I wonder how they do it.”

“They are amazing. Their playing is so enjoyable and lively. I think you can as well Natalie.” I stared at her. “I’m not joking, you’re young and sometimes lazy but you’re talented and you play well. You’re able to obtain incredible scores from your exams but for concerts you just need a bit more confidence.”

I looked up. “I don’t play well . . . enough. My piano playing is nothing more than notes and my violin sounds are disgusting. I seriously don’t think that this concert’s gonna be any different from the ones before.”

“Maybe, but I know one day, you’ll be able to hear it- the sound you want to play. It will be heard, just work harder.” I groaned. Sometimes that’s all she had to say.

“Oh,” Rachel realised. “Have you come in contact with your father?”

“No, not yet”

“Where is he?”

“Probably somewhere enjoying himself . . .”

“I heard a rumour, but apparently he’s judging for a violin contest in the city.”

“If he’s there, then I do anything to let him hear my playing- even if that means playing that damn violin in front of millions of people! I’ll make him eat those words he said 4 years ago!” My father’s voice echoed in my mind:

‘What are you doing Natalie? This sound is horrendous! Didn’t you practise like I told you to?”

“I already tried. I repeated it 20 times today daddy.  .  .”Natalie sobbed.

“Listen, there is such thing as 100% perfection, 101% perfection, and 200+ % of perfection! Do you know what my expectations are of you?”

“200% or more . . . ?” she guessed.

“No,” he replied furiously. “What I want is absolute perfection that can live up to my standards. That means: no out-of-tune notes that ring, emotions and effort that is to your very best. Go back to your room and play until you get it in your head. Follow the composer’s rule and style. If you get bored and tired, stop, and play piano after that  . . .”

This was the kind of person my father was- a perfectionist. Ever since I’ve done my grade 2 piano exam, I had this thought that stuck with me for the rest of my life. If my test results were:

A+ and really good comments- that is best.

A+ - a really good effort for trying.

A – not good enough yet but still okay.

B+ - automatic fail.

My mum came and I walked out the door. “Thanks Rachel!” I cried. “See you next week, bye!”

It was raining so I quickly rushed to mum’s car. She turned around to face me from the driver’s seat. “How was your lesson?”

“The usual . . .” I sighed. She looked at me, and I gave her ‘the stare’. “Okay, I didn’t do as well again- as I should’ve.”

“Nat,” she began.  “You know I don’t care about that. . . . just try your best and putting in enough effort is good enough . . . .”

“Yeah . .  .but dad doesn’t think so.”

“We’ve been over this honey. He was under great pressure from your grandma and teacher.”

“That’s no excuse.” I complained. I hated the way she always covered for him when he was in the wrong. “Anyways,” I continued. “Can we please drop the subject and go home? I have my concert the day after tomorrow and I really want to at least practise.” My mum signed and I felt bad inside. She really took care of me all this time but I always whined about situations which were preventable if I had put more effort in. We drove all the way back home in silence . . . .

I rushed in through the door as soon as it was unlocked and ran into the kitchen. I threw my bag across the floor so it ended up near the piano and swallowed a whole glass of water. I then immediately opened the kitchen cupboards and searched hastily for something to eat. I found some chocolate and shrugged. It didn’t really matter so I let my mouth taste it. I walked upstairs and then turned on my iPhone. There were 2 new messages, the first read:

Hi Nat! It’s Tyler here! Rachel texted me your number and add me on email! This one’s mine-  TylerM;)@email.com

I thought this was a good idea since we both like music and we’re in the same class this year!

I made a disgusted face and exhaled. “What the hell?” I said, annoyed. “Why did Rachel give this guy my contacts?” I let my head drop and then continued scrolling to the next message. It was by far the worst email that could come after the one I just read:

Hey Natalie, it’s Tyson! Tyler thinks it’s a god idea so add me on email and your phone. Cya next class. – TysonMJ@email.com

I had no idea what made them so attached to me – if I’m being too conceited,- or music but I wanted to see how these people were going to handle piano with me being there. “Well,” I said to myself. “Making a couple of new optimistic and lively friends isn’t so bad I guess . .  .” Just then, another text came through to my mobile:

I’ve decided! You’re going to playChopin’s Waltz no. 6 in D flat, Op. 64 no. 1 (Minute Waltz). Try learning it over the week and see. I’ll help you next week! Looking forward to it!

Rachel*

I am so screwed, I thought to myself.