A/N: It's back to Trish now. Hope you like this chapter, it's got a lot of influence from the lives of both me and SatellizerS. I personally adore the character(s) in this chapter and I hope you do to. Happy reading!

~~~

The sea of eyes staring at Diana below the stage didn't faze her at all. She was used to this—she'd been doing this since birth. Her hands were by her side, one gripping her bow and the other holding the violin.

The crowd was silent in anticipation. Diana's eyes met her accompanist's and she nodded, taking a deep breath. She raised her bow and, tilting her head, started to play.

The piece—Kreisler's Liebesleid, or Love's Sorrow—was a familiar one that she had learned a long time ago. She used it frequently for competitions and knew it so well that she didn't need to practice much in advance—only a few hours the day before the competition. The accompanist was someone she frequently worked with so he knew the piece as well.

Liebesleid was a strange piece, one that started on a minor note but ended in major. Love's Sorrow... Diana had always prefered it to another one of Kreisler's works, Liebesfreud, meaning Love's Joy. The piece she was currently playing reminded her—of everything she wanted but could not have.

She closed her eyes, having memorized the music so well she did not need to glance at her violin, and moved along to the music, arching her wrist or swaying dramatically when the melody called for it. The accompanist was right by her side, listening intently to match every note of his to those of hers.

Halfway through the piece, Diana opened her eyes, realizing that the piano was no longer playing in sync with her. She was playing too fast. God... It didn't matter. This wasn't a big competition anyways. Gradually, she forced herself to slow down without letting it seem too obvious, trying to mimic the recording of Kreisler's own music that she had listened to in the car on repeat. No improvisation, no straying from the original... These kinds of competitions required precision and accuracy.

She ended the piece with a flourishing trill, holding the note for a bit longer than necessary just out of pure spite. The audience applauded as they did for everyone and Diana bowed with her accompanist. She tried to be stiff in her movements to prevent wrinkling the lavender dress too much.

Diana exited the stage and her mother was the first to greet her. "Not bad," she said, "Certainly better than that first boy whose string snapped."

She didn't answer. Her mother would undoubtedly force her to stay as she would every competition—to scope out the competition, she would say. But Diana had other plans.

They sat down near the front of the stage and Diana labored through two more performers. The first was decent but the second had little to no dynamics. She could have waited through another performance but she was too fed up to.

"Mother," she whispered, "I'm going to use the bathroom." Her mother nodded without meeting her eyes as she gazed at the stage before her. Diana hurried out of the theater but instead of heading for the bathrooms, she quickly walked to the parking lot and used the keys she had taken from her mother's purse to unlock the trunk and take the purse she had thrown in. She was lucky her mother always kept a spare set of keys with her.

Only after she had gotten her purse did she enter the bathroom to change. She stepped out of her dress and threw on the outfit she had planned the night before—ripped, dark blue jean shorts and a black jacket over a white Calvin Klein high neck bralette that actually had patterns and swirls drawn on with blue-and-pink glow-in-the-dark marker.

It wasn't as flashy as most outfits were at EDM raves, but this was as far as Diana dared to push it. As she walked out of the bathroom, she kept her face down, letting her lime-green hair hide her face. She threw the dress she had been wearing back in the trunk and called an Uber.

The driver was there within five minutes. Diana clambered into the car and arrived at Ember Arena, the local basketball arena, after half an hour.

On the drive, she texted her mother, Sorry mom, I'll be back home by nine. I finished HW already.

Diana had snuck out of the house more than once in her lifetime. Her mother wouldn't get too pissed, only disappointed. Granted, Diana had never snuck out during a competition but her mother would understand, especially if it was for music. Diana just didn't have to specify what type of music it was.

Electronic music was definitely a genre her mother didn't approve of. The unnatural sounds, generated by man made machines... Her mother had always said that music reflected nature.

She was correct, in a way, but Diana didn't care. The deep basslines, the tropical melodies, and the irregular sounds all meshed together in a way that made her want to soar.

Besides, the materials of man made machines all originated from nature. And the sounds brought together in those kinds of tracks all started out as natural recordings.

The car slowed to a halt and Diana looked out to find a very crowded Ember Arena. She narrowed her eyes. She had no idea Miss Cleo had this many fans—from what the rumors suggested, the DJ was from Diana's very own city.

In fact, some of the faces she caught a glimpse of were familiar, either from her own school or the others of the district. Miss Cleo was a dark silhouette against flashing rainbow lights on a raised platform in the middle of the arena. The show had started a few minutes ago.

The beat of the current song faded away, replaced by one of her newer tracks, a deep house song with tropical house vibes, with a sick transition. From the platform, Miss Cleo laughed through her mic and exclaimed, "It's 2017, baby!" Everyone screamed and jumped, pumping their fists in the air.

Grinning, Diana joined them and pushed through the crowd, trying to get closer to the platform and losing herself in the rave.