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Bard: Chapter 30

In which Trista gets stage fright

By RenaPublished 2 years ago 7 min read
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Bard: Chapter 30
Photo by J Lee on Unsplash

Trista stared at the list in abject horror.

The New Year’s festival was only a week away, and her class had been practicing all winter to perform. Every class in every school of the bard’s college was preparing something for the festival. The music school would perform a series of songs, and a few select students would be showcased with solo parts.

The list had gone up at the end of class, detailing which students had won a coveted solo performance. Her name was on the list.

“It’s a mistake,” she whispered. “It has to be.”

“Stop being modest!” Emile scolded, elbowing Trista gently in the ribs. Everyone had crowded close while Trista had stood, stunned, and she quickly backed away from the board, keeping her tail tucked close so it didn’t knock into anyone. Emile followed.

As more and more students got a look at the list, she was bombarded by jabs of disappointment, shame, despair, and anxiety. There were dozens of beginning music students and only a small handful of solos. Others would definitely want the opportunity more than she did. Surely, there were many students who should have gotten a solo over her.

“What’s wrong?” Bart asked, standing up on his toes and craning his neck to try and see the list from the back of the crowd.

“I–uh…” Trista stumbled over her words. Getting a solo was something a student should be happy about. How could she explain that the last thing she wanted was to be in front of so many people? Or how the air was thick with things to feed on and it made her want to be sick?

“Trista got a solo!” Emile said happily.

“Congratulations,” Bart said, smiling. His face went a bit pinker than usual. His face always went a bit pinker than usual when he talked to her, and she had yet to figure out why. There was no distinct feeling behind it that she could make out–a mild discomfort, some anxiousness. Trista wished she knew what it was so she could avoid doing it, but Bart never said anything and she couldn’t very well ask. “You’ll be great.”

“I think they should choose someone else,” Trista said. Lily had joined them, and raised her eyebrow at Trista’s comment. “You’re all wonderful players! It could be one of you. I’ll just freeze up.”

“You’ve never frozen up in class,” Emile said.

“And your playing is lovely. Everyone will enjoy it,” Lily added.

“Don’t be nervous,” Bart said quietly. “I mean–I know it doesn’t really help to say that, but what I mean is–you don’t have to be nervous.”

“We’re a bard’s college–we’re performers,” Emile said, grinning. “This is what it’s all about! We’re finally on stage!”

Trista swallowed. Being on stage might be alright, provided she was amongst many other students and didn’t stand out at all. A soloist was meant to stand out.

“Everything alright?” their instructor asked, looking at Trista. “You look a bit green.”

That wasn’t possible with the illusion, but Trista took the meaning.

“I just think–I think you should–you should choose someone else for the solo,” Trista said quietly. “N-not me.”

“Why not? You did splendidly on your assessment.”

“I…I…” Trista hesitated, chewed on her lip, and decided there was nothing else to do but come out with it. “I don’t want all those people looking at me.”

Her instructor cocked an eyebrow, a slow smile spreading over her face. She chortled, shaking her head.

“This is a bard’s college,” she pointed out, throwing out her hand with elegant flair. “We’re performers!”

“Right.” Trista sighed heavily. She wasn’t going to win this argument.

“We’ll practice together!” Lily said, throwing her arm around Trista’s shoulder cheerily. Trista had to turn her head quickly so the other girl’s head didn’t knock into her horn. “You’re just nervous. It happens to everyone.”

“We have a free period tomorrow,” Emile said. “We should all go out to the amphitheater and practice!”

This was met with a general exclamation of agreement, and Trista nodded along with them, backing herself closer to a wall and away from Lily’s grasp. The girl’s arm slid away, and she didn’t seem to notice. Trista clutched her violin to her chest and fretted until her classmates dispersed and she had a chance to get outside.

The professor she normally assisted in the evenings had appointments and didn’t need her, so Trista wandered in the general direction of the library.

The weather was much nicer than it had been during the winter months, and the sun was glistening on the bay. She could just barely see the water over the buildings that sloped down towards the harbor. The trees had budded out, and flowers were blooming all over the city. Rather than the biting wind they’d had during the winter, the breeze off the water was gentle and refreshing, the sun warm on her shoulders.

Despite the pleasant changes in the weather, there was a lot more general discomfort around the city. Trista didn’t understand it. Half of the humans had become mildly sick all at once it seemed. A man sneezed greatly as they passed each other, and the painful pressure in the front of his head was palpable. He wasn’t alone either. Heads hurt, faces hurt, eyes hurt–all over the city. Trista tried not to feed on them, but it would have been easier to hold her breath until she passed out.

She hung her head and trudged down the street. From two corners away, she could tell Laura as still in the library. The sense of her moved slightly, right where she would be when she was working. She was a bit achey, and that caught Trista off guard.

Her sense of Laura and Liam had certainly grown over the months they’d lived together, and her range for sensing them kept increasing, well past what she thought possible. Laura’s aches were minor, not something Trista would have expected to sense from so far away. She could even hazard a guess of what the minor pains were about, based on Laura’s descriptions of her library work.

It was close enough to the end of the day, so Trista waited outside the library for Laura to come out, joining her on the steps.

“Not working tonight?” Laura asked.

“Not tonight,” Trista said.

“Care to walk together?”

“Yes.”

They made their way towards home, and Trista tried to keep her mind on something other than the looming threat of the performance, but failed. It didn’t help that everyone they passed seemed to have the pains in their head. Even Laura had a hint of it.

“Are you alright?” Laura asked. “You look more forlorn than usual.”

“Than usual?”

“You get a look about you sometimes,” Laura said with a sympathetic smile, “but today it’s worse.”

“Oh, um…” Trista hesitated. There was no way she didn’t end up sounding ridiculous. “I was chosen for a solo at the New Year’s performance.”

“That’s wonderful! Congratulations!” Laura said. Then, reading Trista’s expression. “You’re unhappy about it?”

“I don’t think I can do it.”

“Then why did you try out?” Laura asked, a hint of laughter in her voice.

“I didn’t try out,” Trista said. “The instructors chose after our last assessment.”

“Well then, they think you can do it.”

“Everyone will be looking at me.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it? It’s a solo.”

Trista blanched, and Laura paused, giving her a questioning look. She checked around them, the street was far from empty, but no one was very close to them. Laura leaned in closer and lowered her voice.

“Will this–” she gestured at Trista’s face “–not work if too many people are looking?”

“It doesn’t matter how many people are looking,” Trista told her.

“Is it just stage fright then?” Laura straightened. “Trista, you can do magic with your violin. You’ll do brilliantly.”

As much as Trista appreciated Laura’s faith in her, being told things would be fine did nothing to alleviate her fears. She wrung her hands, and stared at the ground, shifting anxiously from foot to foot.

“I don’t know what to do,” she muttered.

“You do the performance,” Laura said simply, turning to walk again. Trista followed. “You’re in a bard’s college–”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Isn’t that why you came here in the first place?”

“I just–I just wanted to learn the violin,” Trista replied softly.

“Isn’t the whole point of learning an instrument playing it for people?”

“Yes, I suppose,” Trista said. “Only…” Only what? She’d wanted the pretty music back, and hadn’t thought a single step beyond getting it.

All she’d wanted, the first thing she had ever wanted, was to hear the beautiful sounds again, and feel that glimmer that came along with them. The faint flickering of…something else.

Trista looked up at Laura, meeting her eyes with a helpless shrug. Laura smiled encouragingly, and the glimmer was there, even without the music.

“You’ll be fine,” Laura said, giving Trista’s shoulder a friendly nudge. “I imagine everyone gets a bit of stage fright when they first start out.” Trista nodded noncommittally, and Laura draped an arm over her shoulder.

Maybe the dread would pass. She certainly hoped so.

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About the Creator

Rena

Find me on Instagram @gingerbreadbookie

Find me on Twitter @namaenani86

Check my profile for short stories, fictional cooking blogs, and a fantasy/adventure serial!

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