My breath stopped as soon as the engine did.

I shoved open the car door and ran out, my gaze drawn to the metal railings along the stairs. Expecting a ratty old building, crudely painted, and its students shoved into small classrooms, I was frozen in shock. I felt like a character from a book, walking into a fairytale. Just like in movies, the Academy was large, imposing, regal, and most of all, had a Latin inscription on the entrance gate.

"Hey, girl violinist!" Beret Guy waved her back to the car. "You left your instrument." He pointed to my violin case, abandoned at the sight of the academy. "Oh, thanks." I mumbled, still half awed.

The morning had been a whirlwind of motion. I couldn't go to sleep last night, so at five in the morning I gave up. I woke Sonata up and ran with her, and we watched the sunrise. I realized that I never had enjoyed it like I had today. Always, it was a reminder that another day was ready to come at me, but this morning it was a sign of the fire inside of me, ready to go to battle. The orchestra was both my war and redemption.

At nine am sharp, a black van pulled up. My parents watched from the doorway, blowing kisses, while my driver pulled away. 

I was never good at socializing, but the driver, wearing a beret hat, was very curious as to why a girl was going to a boy academy when the performance was that day.

I instantly dubbed him Beret Guy.

I fell asleep somewhere along the ride, and I was a bit disoriented when Vivaldi started pounding at my ears.

Beret Guy had turned the volume all the way up, and shouted over the noise, "Oh, good, you're awake! Best not to be too sleepy when you see it, or you'll faint! I did, the first time I saw it!"

I turned my eyes to the window, and indeed it was a sight.

Now, after fetching my instrument, Beret Guy led me up the stairs. Music was streaming through the air, and for some reason, it all matched together. Bach and Seitz and Ysaye, all cluttered into this beautiful building.

Self-conciously, I looked up to see a lot of faces ducking in from windows that looked like they shouldn't have ever been opened, rusted metal hinges hurriedly creaking shut.

The door opened for us, Ms. Linnie waiting for us behind it. "I'll take it from here, Beret." She winked at him.

"My lady." He comically bowed, and left. 

"Thank you!" I yelled after him.

The interior of the academy was even more beautiful than the outside.

A grand staircase led to the second floor, and the chandelier gleamed over me. I looked around me in wonder, feeling like someone else. Someone else who didn't have a hundred boys running down to meet her.

Their ages ranged from kids who belonged in middle school and those I couldn't tell apart from the teachers. Most looked anxious, and a few just plainly glared at me.

I tried to smile, but my mouth would not move. Ms. Linnie clapped her hands. "What are you waiting for?" She asked.

I startled, wondering if she was talking to me, when the crowd parted and a solitary figure stepped out.

"Hey. I'm Rowan." he said. He was around my age and had dark hair that matched his uniform, and long, slender fingers that were made for a violin. I thought he looked quite handsome, and also very ticked off.

Gathering my courage and all I had in me, I replied, "My name is Alina, and I'm very grateful to all of you for letting me perform with you in the orchestra." I addressed Rowan and the rest of the people gathered there. 

Ms. Linnie pushed me forward. "Rowan'll show you around. Have fun! Now, aren't you supposed to be in classrooms?" She frowned at the students.

Immediately, it was just Rowan and me. Trying not be too awkward, I asked, "So, are you a first violinist?"

"Well," he turned to me, "I'm the concertmaster."

My eyes widened in shock. "Oh... Wow." I stuttered. 

"Come on, the Academy is easy to get lost in." He set up the stairs at a brisk pace and I followed.

The stairs parted in half, and Rowan led me to the right side. "This wing is where we spend our day, the practice rooms, classrooms, and cafeteria is over there."

Turning to me, he said, "The stage is connected at the back with the left wing. All of these hallways expect that one, at the end, are classrooms. That one at the end leads to another corridor, and it looks exactly like this, except the rooms are practice rooms. If you keep going, the cafeteria and stage is back there. Got it?"

I was really confused now, and all of it looked the same.

I nodded.

"Good. You're kinda quiet, you know?" He said suddenly, with an amused look on his face.

"I have no idea what the difference is between corridors and hallways are. I got lost in a friend's house once. So, I think you'll see me huddling in a corner somewhere because I couldn't find a room." I retorted, not meaning to be mean but still sounding like it. 

Rowan rolled his eyes. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to the other side, the left wing. I wondered, "This must be the dorms then?" Rowan nodded, motioning to a circular staircase.

Why were there so many stairs here?

"There are three floors of dorms, sorted by age. You will be sleeping at the very top, which I'll show you." He paused. "My room is right below yours, so if you need anything, just stop by. That is, if you don't get lost."

I blushed, and pushed past him so he wouldn't see my face. "Well, aren't you going to show me where the stage is?"

I stopped at the base of the stairs. Rowan was looking at me, smirking. "It's over there." he said. Pointing at the small hallway I didn't see, he raised his eyebrows at me. "Let's go. Oh, and every Saturday, we have a bunch of performances. Anyone can do it, and while it's technically our day off, the alternative is cleaning the Academy up. So, I expect you on that stage then."

Sighing, I relaxed a little. "Do you always talk like this? Like a- a professional lawyer or something?" His eyes were confused. "I mean, 'technically' and 'I expect', normal people don't talk like that."

Rowan half-grinned. "You talk like that too. We all do here. It's the dark side of wanting to prove that you're different."

Frowning at him, I shuddered a little.

"Now, we're practicing Vivaldi in about five minutes. Let's go unpack at the stage. I have the key." He twirled the little metal key around his finger, and motioned to the violin and bag at the doors. "Go get your instrument! What are you waiting for?"

I ran down, grunting at the heaviness that I was supposed to be used to, and hiked up the stairs. "I hate stairs." I grumbled.

Rowan was halfway across. "Hurry up!" He called.

I ran up to him. Panting, I asked, "How long do you practice daily?" He shrugged. "Classes end at 3, so I practice until dinner. Around four hours, maybe." Afterwards, we practice as an orchestra until 9. Ten o'clock is lights out. But the day before a performance, we practice the whole day."

I followed in silence.

Soon we reached heavy doors, which Rowan unlocked. The stage was beautiful, with plenty room for a full orchestra. Rowan jogged up, and picked up a violin I guessed to be his already waiting on the stage.

"Let's see what you can do."

I eyed his glossy, probably old, and most definitely more pricier violin. 

I groaned audibly. "Don't we have a duet in Spring?" I asked, not wanting to know the answer. Being compared to this machine that practiced for a total of seven hours a day was like comparing a violin to a viola.

Unpacking, I stood at the center of the stage, Rowan watching with his arms crossed.

I raised my eyebrows in a silent question.

"Mendelssohn. You better have it committed to memory."

Heaving a sigh of relief that my teacher had made me memorize the whole first movement, I took a breath and started to play.