The Mendelssohn Concerto was gratifying. It had all the right notes, rhythm, and melody that haunted even the simplest musicians. It was beautiful and awestriking, and I was so glad I had chosen it for my recital piece a month ago.

There was no way I could let my heart control my playing, not right now when eyes were gazing at my hands and ears were just waiting for a single mistake.

I made it past half of the first movement, when the doors opened and noise and laughter pierced the air. My fingers froze for a moment, and my eyes flew to Rowan. He barely glanced at the class watching me, and nodded. "Keep going."

The students automatically filed into seats and suddenly, the pressure rose to a whole new level. It squeezed my stomach, and I frantically closed my eyes. The wall of criticism that loomed in front of me disappeared, and this time, when I started to play, something else- that slipped between the pressure- led me.

I could feel the music circling around me, enclosing me and surrounding me with quiet. It felt like I was playing the piece for the first time.

The slurs and vibrato voiced my hesitancy, and I found my own playing was encouraging myself. The harmonics and light tenutos, crescendos and decrescendos, the inescapable high notes. All of wrapped me in a tight, secure blanket that made me not afraid. Not afraid to fall, because I was certainly flying.

The 'solo part', where the accompaniment would have the melody, approached me like a stranger. Surely a whole page of my triplets would bore the socks off of my audience. And without the accompaniment, my memory was not trustworthy. Hesitantly, I began. 

Dread loomed over me as the notes came. And then- there was another voice, seeking freedom through a wooden instrument, beside me. My eyes flew open, and Rowan was beside me. Playing the melody.

And the world became perfect.

Our notes mingled and did not tangle, and raised a wall of music, not perfect but so wonderful that I felt like I was rising over the audience too.

Like when I first got here, the music was all around us. Now I was playing, and Rowan was with me.

I did not play with restrain.

Our lost songs left us panting, and I did not continue. The last page would remain unplayed.

Slowly, the applause began. 

Rowan and I met each other's eyes, and he grinned at me for the first time, with actual companionship.

Though there were no words spoken between us, the air between us still tingled with connectedness.

I brought up my hand to him, and with a roar of applause, we shook hands.

"You play like... pepperoni." he chuckled, and though I had no idea what he was talking about, I shrugged. "You play like salami, then."

Rowan laughed, and we descended the stage together. I felt whole and I belonged.

"Hey, good job, girl violinist!" A series of voices called out, and I couldn't help but feel that this was my first concert.

"Everyone," Rowan shouted over the applause, "this is Alina Winters, our new violinist!"

Whistles and cheers pierced the air. I smiled, bowing down once more.

Ms. Linnie ran up to the stage, and into the microphone she said, "Everyone, please get ready for rehearsals! Rowan, thank you for introducing Alina, now please, get ready!"

He grinned, and motioned for me to follow him as the students exploded into movement. "We're in charge of the chairs. Everyone else is getting their instruments from their rooms." He told me over the noise.

"How many people are here? We'll need, like a hundred." I groaned.

"Which is why we have this thing!" Rowan exclaimed quite hysterically, and I checked first to see if he was alright before moving my eyes to the 'thing' that would apparently help to carry up a hundred chairs.

I gasped.