Vasil stepped onto the backstage and scanned the area. The large hall was filled with performers who had arrived earlier, occupying the space and eyeing each other. It didn't seem like any of them were worried, or if they were, they didn't show it.
When Vasil saw that the others were holding their instruments, he made his way to the only empty chair and placed Mrs. Harmon's violin case on it. After doing so, he zipped it open, carefully pulling out the glossy brown-red violin.
Not knowing exactly what to do, he looked around at the others. But the others were looking at him for the same reason, or maybe because he had arrived later than the rest.
Someone raised their violin and started tuning it, and with that motion, a wave of various instruments tuning, only slightly different from each other, filled the air. It was as if everyone needed the courage of the other. They needed someone to go first. Just like when no one dares to turn in their test paper during an exam until the first person stands up, slams their paper on the teacher's desk, and within five minutes, the class empties.
Slowly, violins, cellos, clarinets, and other instruments were tuned, and the off-key single notes gave way to completely unrelated melodies. There was a commotion in the hall, but when Vasil focused on each piece of music individually, he noticed the beauty of each one.
Amidst the storm of sounds, Vasil heard a tone that made him turn his head to find the source. His eyes landed on a boy with dark chocolate-colored skin ( Irina liked those chocolates but Vasil hated them), playing an old violin. The boy's playing was so beautiful that Vasil nearly cried. Not because it was beautiful, but because the boy was his rival.
Vasil turned his head and saw the dressing room at the end of the hall. He walked toward it and hid inside. There was no one there at that moment.
In fact, Vasil couldn't find the courage to play in front of this small group of his peers, let alone in front of a panel of judges who held his future in their hands. Wouldn't it be better to surrender now and not make a fool of himself in front of everyone?
But no, he had come this far, had practiced for two whole years to get to this day, and even studied for it! And the studying part had been truly torturous. It was impossible to back out now. Being ridiculed was better than giving up and wondering what would have happened if he hadn't.
He stood in front of the mirror in the dressing room, raised his violin, closed his eyes, and started playing. He tried to focus only on the sound of his own instrument. He wasn't playing badly, and realizing this gave him more confidence.
After playing seven times in front of the mirror, he gathered the courage to return to the main backstage area. After playing twice there, he realized his fingers were starting to hurt. So, he sat down on an empty chair and placed his violin on his lap. He shouldn't exert himself before the performance; doing so would only make his hands shake during the actual performance.
A young, well-dressed woman, who seemed to be a secretary from somewhere, probably from the school's administration office, entered the hall and read the names of the first five people, asking them to come with her. She read the names of the next five to tell them to be ready.
Vasil was in the second list. He sighed with relief and leaned back in his chair. He looked at the walls around him. The walls were the color of tree bark in summer, while the floor was gray and the ceiling was black. Vasil wondered why someone would choose this color combination for the place, or for any place. But the bigger question that came to his mind was why there was dust on the ceiling, as if someone had walked on it.
Vasil was taller than everyone else in the room, but he still couldn't reach the high ceiling. And this made the dirt on the ceiling seem even more odd to him.
Maybe if he thought about it more, he'd conclude that the problem was caused by water leaking from the ceiling, or perhaps it had gotten dirty when the light fixtures were changed, or some other logical reason. But at that moment, the secretary-like woman turned and read his name as part of the next five.
So, without thinking any more about his silly question, Vasil stood up and, with the other four, headed toward the performance hall.