-Evelyn Augustine-

That boy has talent.

The first thing that I notice about him is his impeccable posture. With his head held high and hand gliding the bow across the violin in a straight, hypnotic way. But there was more than just a perfect posture to him. I could read the emotions behind each stride he played. They were light, carefree, but with a sense of heaviness looming behind at the same time. His emotions were floating off of him and into the blank abyss surrounding us, swirling together- but still distinct enough to tell what was witch.

I couldn't help but wonder if the others in the room could feel it too, the emotions he held. When my mom had talked about a violinist partner for some upcoming concerts I- in all honesty thought she was kidding.

For one, I'd never had a partner before and didn't know how good I would work with someone else. Not to mention that one of the concerts she was interested in me taking part in was nationals, where people had been practicing with their partners for years. The chances of winning were very low, it didn't matter how good I was but how in sync the two of us were.

But it didn't matter what I thought of this. My mother had a mind of her own, no doubt thinking that since playing had come easily to me partnering up with someone else would also, right? Wrong. This wasn't learning to play a few new pieces, or a new ability. It was more, so much more. It was learning how to trust someone to not just follow you through a piece, but level it with you in harmony.

But I still trusted my moms judgment, so if a partner was what I needed than a partner was what I was going to get.

It didn't take long for her to find someone and send me half way across the United States, to a remote town in Colorado. She swore it was just for a small performance. But the last time I had played for a crowd of two hundred was grade school. I was on to bigger and brighter things now and maybe thats why, for the first time in years, I felt myself nervous on stage. I was used to the spotlight shining on me, the crowd covered in a layer of darkness. Faces unrecognizable.

But this was different. It was a small crowd, at the break of twilight, the only light shining on me from the stars. It made me nervous to see everyone, to know they were actually watching me. Actually seeing me. It wasn't until after my concert that my mom eluded to me the real reason I was there.

"Oh theres a guy there. Best violinist there is, and under the radar, he should be in this little studio in the middle of town. You'll need him to win this." She had thrown that in the second I finished the performance and for once it made sense.

My mother was always scheming about my future, I was just glad that this time she was up front about it.

"James Fletcher," a girl beside me spoke out. I turned, breaking my contact with the violinist. She was wearing a long ivy green dress, with her black hair pulled back into a loose braid. It was easy to tell that she wasn't from the town, but when looking around the room I quickly noticed that none of us were.

"He went from a nobody in a nothing town into well....this. Now everybody's looking for him. Giving him offers, but my daddy got the best. He's giving it to his parents as we speak- thats why James is doing this. It's for me. Isn't he amazing?" The girl smiled cheekily and I nodded, biting the inside of my cheek. So I had competition. Nothing I wasn't used too. But this time it was different, they weren't going to be judging us on how good we were but instead what we had to offer. And I didn't have anything to offer except myself: Evelyn Augustine. And I am only worth so much.

"Yeah. Amazing." I breathed quickly, watching him. A sense of dread fulling the pit of my stomach.

The girl turned back to me, squinting, "You look familiar. Have I seen you somewhere?"

I shrugged, my attention focused on James and the melody,"no."

James came to a slow finish, looking up at the crowd with a shy grin, "Hope you don't mind but I got to take a short break."

The crowd clapped cheering on for the sixteen year old boy as he did a small bow before making a break for the door. I watched as the crowds exited the small room. But I sat there, watching the wooden violin glimmer in the sunlight.

Slowly my attention shifted to the black piano sitting in the back of the room. It was a wooden piano, a bit of an older model. But it reminded me of the simpler times in my life, when I played for my grandmother instead of the crowds. Instead of him.

I slowly made my way to the piano and brushed my delicate fingers across its wood. I hadn't performed in awhile...there was no reason to anymore.The next performance was nationals and I needed James for that. But the piano as always drew me in, capturing me in its dark gaze.

I pressed my fingers to the keys, moving them lightly. I could hear the familiar melody fill the room. It was gentle and calm, everything I felt I wasn't in that moment. With each key I worried I'd give it away, push down to hardly and then everything would unravel. The pain, the worry, the anxious person I was beneath my collected exterior.

But, like always I felt myself melt away into the song, my worries and troubles gone and replaced with an uplifting feeling. One I feel every so often. A smile rises to may cheeks as my hands flew along the piano.

There was no greater feeling than to be sitting at the bench of a piano, fingers dancing over the black and white keys like water danced over the earth.

That was what I believed as I swayed with the music, humming to the tune lightly under my breath. My blonde hair fell loose from behind my ear as I shifted, framing the calm and joyous smile I wore every time I let the music run up my hands and settle into my heart.

The vibrations tickled my skin; the tiny plunk of each key resounded in my ears. Alone, we were only vibrations and notes. Together, we were harmonies and melodies, flats and sharps, all composing the beautiful music my hands knew how to play by heart.

I could have played this song with my eyes closed. Sometimes, I did, imagining that my grandmother was sitting at the bench with me, gently smiling with pride as I played her favorite song for her over and over again.

A few years ago, when my grandmother had passed, my fingers would have halted at the memory of her. Now, at fifteen, I was able to keep playing. I only smiled sadly at the image of her, my heart yearning to see her one more time.

But she was alive in my memories, and in the keys of this piano that she had taught me to play. She was alive in my heart and soul. She was alive in the music that brought me such joy as I stepped on one of the foot pedals and allowed the music to drown out everything else.

I could almost feel her hands atop mine, like she used to do when she was first teaching me. That had been when I was seven and still much too young to actually reach the pedals so far beneath my feet.

I recalled her gentle wrinkly hands with a smile. My grandmother had been a pianist and a social worker, and yet with me, she was never anything but soft. I hoped that wherever she was right now, she could hear me play this song.

My fingers smoothed out over the keys, the notes slowly fading into silence as those thin fingers stilled and that familiar tune came to a close.

I released a breath, my shoulders slumping in the newfound silence. That silence felt somewhat empty without the noise of those notes running through the air. It always did, no matter what song I finished playing.

But the smile didn't stay for long, because a second after a scattered applause broke the silence. Quickly I whipped my body around, turning to see James Fletcher standing directly behind me.

"That's who I want as a partner." James said, resting against the wall with a smile on his face.