And this morning, it is time for All-Region Band tryouts, Phase 2. Zoe’s usual nerves regarding tests are at their worst, likely due to the “do-or-die” nature of having the result be decided by a single audition. (And I’m sure recent events aren’t helping her mood; they sure aren’t helping mine.) On the bus ride up, she has been rocking back and forth with her face in her hands. I don’t immediately say or do anything, mostly because I doubt anything I’d say would help. But after a while, it becomes too pitiful for me to ignore, so I give it a try anyway.

“How are you doing?” I ask gently.

She takes a few deep breaths, and then says, still hiding her face, “Ashleyimjustsonervouswhatisthishappeningidontknowhowitllgoformetodayinthisaudition.”

“Whoah there, slow down. You'll be fine, Zoe. You're a good player.”

She pulls her face out of her hands, looking as if she may be sick. “I feel like I'm just going to fall apart because of my nerves. How do you ever get over this?”

“In the life of a musician, you are forced to perform over and over, especially as a professional who does this constantly. So, you get used to it.”

She sniffles loudly. “But I'm not a professional. I'm sure a professional would be able to come in here and just knock it out. Like Duke Ellington! This would be nothing to him.”

“True. But I don't think Duke Ellington would put much stock in a competition like this. He was a true artist; a true performer. His inventiveness and creativity shaped the landscape of big band jazz. You know Sammy Nestico?”

“Oh… yeah, that was his, uh, friend who was also a composer, right?”

“That’s right. When they first met, Nestico had just written ‘Take the A Train’ while on the train ride there. Or was it a bus ride? Don't remember which. Seems like it should be a train, though, because of the song's title. Anyway, Ellington liked it so much he ended up hiring him to work with his band.”

“Wow, he wrote such a great song on the fly like that. That's really impressive.” Considering this makes a light turn on behind her eyes.

“The more you do music, the easier it comes to you.”

“Yeah… I guess you would know from your parents.” She stops for a moment and bites her lip, deep in thought. “It's like the saying goes. The apple tree that falls over doesn't go far from... wait, that's not how it goes.”

I chuckle at her. “Oh Zoe. You’re so pretty.”

She giggles back. “Awh, thank you!” She gives me a hug. Don’t worry, she knows that I’m just teasing her. I’m not exactly sure why, but Zoe seems to be in better spirits after this. I guess I’m glad I said something.

Before long, we get back to Westlake High School. The wait before horn players are called to do our second round is mercifully short. Laura, sitting in a spot around the middle of the room, waves at me, and I decide to sit next to her. She is a familiar face if nothing else.

“Ashley! How are you feeling?” she asks me, smiling at me warmly.

“Terrible,” I tell her honestly.

“Awh, why so?”

“Rough week. You don’t want to know.”

She frowns at me now, tilting her head. “Oh, I think I understand. I have so much homework, I think I’m just gonna drown. I’m so ready for the holiday.”

I’m not looking forward to the holiday, as it will just give me more time to dwell on being sucked into a human trafficking conspiracy and threatened. I’ve been trying to keep that off my mind for at least a little bit because suffice to say, I’m pretty burnt out on this supernatural bullshit. But obviously I can’t say that to Laura.

“Yeah, I’m basically in the same boat,” I tell her.

“You know, if we make Area, we’ll have to spend the whole break practicing!” she complains, putting her head down on her desk as if she’s ready to drop dead. “I mean, I want it, but I’d also kinda like a break… so I guess whatever happens, I won’t be too upset.”

“You better not be,” says a girl in front of us. “Because your chances of making it in are low. You should just give it up now.”

The interrupter is an older girl I recognize from the first round, who gave one of the best performances by far. She’s on the tall side, but is otherwise pretty plain looking, with long brown hair and a blank, cold expression as she looks between Laura and I.

“Hey, I’m not giving up!” Laura responds defensively. “I’m gonna give it my best shot. I owe myself that.”

“But they will only take the top four players to area. It’s cutthroat.” she explains.

“Well, I got fourth in round 1! So all I have to do is maintain that,” Laura says proudly.

“Forget it. You’re a freshman; a tiny little fish in a pond of sharks. Don’t you dare get delusions of grandeur about your chances. You’re nothing. Your previous placement was a fluke; I remember how you played, and I wouldn’t have even put you in the top ten.”

Laura is visibly hurt by this, her face starting to go red. Suddenly, it’s easy for me to picture her seventh grade self, looking up from the audition results at me with tears in her eyes.

“Excuse me. You’re Delaney, aren’t you?” I ask the older girl. “I heard others say you made it into All-State three times, which means you made it in as a freshman. It’s certainly possible.”

“So you’ve heard of me. I remember you too; I hope you don’t think you’re going to get into All-State just by playing loud if you don’t have any skill.”

“Maybe the judges value musical expression,” I reason, shrugging. “You’re lucky you don’t have to interview to get into All-State. With your unlikable personality, nobody would ever want you in their band.”

Delaney furrows her eyebrow at me. “Well, there’s no interview. All that matters is how we play, which means you two little fishies have no chance.”

“I don’t care for the opinion of a loser who feels the need to bully players three years her junior.”

“Haha. Try calling me a loser after I’m a four-time All-Stater.”

“Think your college professors and future employers will care about that? You stand for nothing but your own ego. And someday you are going to get what’s coming to you.”

“Whatever. I was just trying to help you guys out by setting your expectations to reasonable levels. If you don’t want my advice, I’ll just ignore you.”

“Please do.”

She rolls her eyes at us and turns back to the front. I turn back to Laura, who is giving me an odd look.

“Um… thanks, Ashley.”

“Funny how some people don’t seem to mature past middle school, isn’t it?”

She laughs, and smiles at me with sparkles in her eyes. “Yeah. It really is.”

Consider how poor my mood is, I could’ve played a lot worse. Laura even complimented me on how ferociously I played in the third movement. I feel overall as if it was better than my first performance, which is strange considering how I am just as unsound in mind as I was then. Laura also played pretty well; perhaps our encounter with Delaney served as a sort of negative motivator to do well. It does feel better to have just one concrete thing to focus on when playing.

Soon enough, it is all over, the round being far shorter due to the reduced number of players. When we get back, I keep Zoe company for a while after Yonca gets called back with the bass clarinets. It’s not long before the results are posted for horns. I wait a few minutes before checking to let the initial crowd disperse, and then go to check. Before I can get close enough to read the paper, however, Laura is on top of me, shouting, “ASHLEY! WE’RE BOTH GOING ON! WE HAVE A SHOT AT STATE!”

“Oh, g- OOF!” I get out before she tackles me with an unexpected hug.

“Wow, that’s exciting, Ashley!” Zoe says, beaming at me. “Um, do you know this girl?”

Laura pulls away from me, and looks at Zoe questioningly. “Yeah, we know each other. We’ve been in the same room for these auditions for the past few years. Who are you?”

“I’m Ashley’s… uh…”

“She’s my girlfriend,” I interject, putting my arm around Zoe.

Laura’s eyes briefly flash with something that I don’t catch… But then, she smiles at us and says, “Oh cool! Good for you guys.”

“Anyways, I’d like to actually see the listing, if you don’t mind,” I say.

I step closer and look. My heart leaps as I see my name at second place. I examine closer to see that the top five are the same top five as round 1, just shuffled around. First is the junior who has made it once before, which I’ve nailed down as being a bespectacled boy named Connor. I’m second, then Laura third; seems as if we’re trading blows now. Fourth is the sophomore who made first last time, a boy named Edgar; I had thought he was a bit weaker today. Still, he’s just barely good enough to still move on to Area. Fifth is Delaney… I briefly marvel at her getting just below the all-area cutoff, trying not to let myself feel too vindictive about it.

“That is so impressive, Ashley!” Zoe tells me, staring at my name in the second place spot. “I bet I won’t even get close to that…”

It’s on that ominous note that Zoe leaves me, as they happen to call bassoons shortly after that. I give her a final hug and kiss on the cheek as she leaves, which draws a few stares from students around us, but I don’t mind them. I simply walk to get a drink of water, as I’ve already depleted the bottle of water I brought with me.

The water fountain is right in between the men’s and women’s restroom. I hear voices from the women’s bathroom, but I can’t really make out what they’re saying. While kneeling over for a drink, I see Laura awkwardly hovering around me. I lift my head and tell her, “Oh, I didn’t realize you were following me.”

“Uh, I wasn’t following you,” she says. “I just wanted a drink of water too.”

“Well, I can’t really recommend drinking from here. The water tastes like shit. It is like a mixture of metal and blood.”

Laura pulls a disgusted face. “Yeah, I think I’ll pass then.”

Two girls suddenly shoot from the women’s bathroom, laughing nervously. “What a freak!” one of them says.

“What are you talking about?” I question them, bristling unconsciously.

“It’s that Delaney girl. She’s in there crying,” the other girl explains. “And we asked her what was wrong, and she threatened us!”

“I’m getting as far away from her as possible,” the other girl declares, still laughing.

The two girls walk quickly away, still giggling and whispering to each other. Laura and I lock eyes.

“Uh, wow. You think we should go talk to her?” Laura asks.

I consider this. I quite dislike Delaney from our exchange earlier. I think I gave her some pretty good advice back in the room, but she didn’t listen, and she really doesn’t deserve any further attention. But, if Zoe were still here, she’d want me to do it. After all, she forgave Diana, and she's supposedly actually maturing a little as a person now. Maybe it's worthwhile to give it a shot.

“Fine. Let’s go.”

We walk into the bathroom, and indeed the sound of Delaney’s sniffling can be heard. I briefly appreciate that her fate is rather karmic. Isn’t it just as I foretold?

“Um… Delaney?” Laura asks, knocking on the door. “Hey, look…”

“Fuck you. Go away,” Laura replies harshly.

Laura winces slightly. “We want to help you out. Let's talk about this, okay?”

“You've just come to gloat in my face. I hate your fucking guts.”

I scoff at her. “Geez, what a sore loser.”

“I'll fucking wring your neck if you don't leave me alone. GO AWAY.”

“Over a stupid audition? Pull yourself together. You are being pathetic.”

Laura looks at me with a grimace and motions to “cut it out” with her hand. No can do, Laura. Some people really need tough love to get what’s wrong with them, and I suspect Laura is one of those people.

“My life is over,” Delaney whines. “I want to fucking shoot myself. I'm worthless.”

“Whaaat?” Laura replies, horrified. “But you already made it three times, that's so impressive!”

“You don't get it. I was supposed to make it all four years. Everyone is going to be disappointed in me.”

“Forget about them,” I tell her. “Do you really want a few numbers on a page to define your self worth?”

“I just... I don't know.”

“Who are you doing this for?” Laura questions. “Your parents are pressuring you a lot, aren't they? I know what that’s like.”

“It's not like that. You wouldn't get it.”

“Honestly, I think I do,” I interject. “How about you come out of that bathroom stall?”

There’s no response at first. I turn away from the stall and look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. But then, after about a minute, the door to her stall opens, and through the mirror I look at her face, red, puffy, yet somehow still distinctly haughty.

“Listen here, Delaney,” I say. “Tell me if you’ve heard this story before. You’re not the most popular girl at school. But you found one thing that you’re really good at. And that gets you some prestige. So you pour everything you have into it, because if you’re really good at that thing, maybe people will have no choice but to at least tolerate you. You tell yourself you don’t care what anyone thinks of you, but you do. It’s killing you. You’re lonely and you’re bitter and you don’t know any other way to give yourself the slightest semblance of self-worth than to just keep grinding.”

Delaney turns away from and stares intently at the wall. “And how’s hearing your sob story supposed to make me feel better?”

I turn to her. “Tell me, Delaney. All this stock put into your horn playing. But do you even like music?”

She sighs, and pensively looks up at me with her head down. “I did once upon a time... that's how I got so good. But I don't know anymore. It’s what I plan to major in college, but it’s started to feel like such a chore.”

“Well, you wanna know what I think? Fuck region tryouts. You had to work hard and become such an incredible musician to even get it three times. Enough doing it to please people. Do it for yourself from now on.”

“Easy for you to say, second-chair princess,” she jabs, turning away from me again. “Oh well. I’ll have more time to work on college admissions, so I guess it could be worse. I'm sorry I snapped at you guys.”

“Hey, we’ve been there before,” Laura says, smiling at her. “No hard feelings, okay?’

“Yeah. Sure thing,” she says begrudgingly.

I go and rejoin the others from my school at the lunch tables. Zoe is still with the bassoons; Yonca got back recently, and is sitting a few seats away from me on her phone; Lionel the trumpet player is playing his 3DS. I vaguely wonder if Anja and Nova have ever played with him.

Unexpectedly, Mason comes and slams his hands on the table across from me, rudely interrupting my train of thought. “Hey Ashley. Guess what.”

“What???”

“I’m going to area too.”

“Oh, how swell. Should we all start calling you King Mason now?”

“Ha ha ha ha ha ha. Keep your day job, you’re not never gonna make it in the comebacks industry.”

Mr. Castro comes up behind him, looking worn out. “Is something wrong over here?” he questions.

“Oh no. I was just sharing the good news!” Mason says, suddenly shifting to a chipper manner. “I’m going to go tell, uh, other people now. Bye!” He runs away.

“I owe you a 'congratulations,'” Mr. Castro tells me, sitting down next to me, beaming. “I saw your result. What a strong freshman class we have! I'm hopeful for the future of our program.”

“Thanks. I bet you’re really proud of Mason.

“Well, I'm proud of all of you.”

“But Mason especially means a lot to you, doesn't he?”

“Hmm. Yes, I’m a friend of the family.”

There’s an awkward pause. Mr. Castro checks something on his phone, and then sets his arms on the table. “I helped him through a time a few years ago when his parents got divorced, so we have a bond. Of course, I try not to play favorites!”

“I never knew that,” I say. I think of Nova’s experience with divorced parents and ask, “What was the divorce over?”

He stiffens a bit. “Oh. Those are personal matters, I can’t discuss that.”

“Right. Sorry, didn’t mean to overstep my boundaries.”

“It’s quite alright. I’m going to go check if the clarinet results are posted yet. Hopefully double reeds are finished soon so we can go home by lunch time.”

“Yeah, I hope so too,” I say. He departs the table after that, and I’m left to wonder if Mason and/or Mr. Castro are hiding some personal demons of their own.