Keep going. Keep playing. No! Her teeth clenched, as she misplayed yet another note.

Katrina could sense some older people rustling in their seats, probably getting up to leave. She guessed what they were thinking: What is this junk? Who is this freak? Soon parents would probably depart as well, saving their children’s precious classical ears from being corrupted by something as vulgar as gaming music.

Ellen Seidel smiled. Yes! The student was even worse than Ellen had imagined. Surely, Tamiko would see Shizuka Satomi had gone either crazy, or senile, or both.

Katrina felt herself twisting back, back to Evan in the shower, the women on the bus ride, her father kicking the door. She was a dumbass. A tranny. Worthless. Ugly.

Then Katrina remembered.

What do you smell?

The boxes of donuts. The grass, the car exhaust, the kids smoking weed …

Fresh rosin, gently dusting her bow. The perfume Astrid had lent her, wafting off her skin, her hair, her beautiful, shimmering dress.

Suddenly, she was back onstage.

Okay.

She was onstage, and she was in trouble. But she was playing. Katrina relaxed her wrist, and Aubergine instantly responded.

Good. I still have technique.

Her legs steadied. Yes, she had her legs … Kev had called them gorgeous, hadn’t they?

And Aubergine.

Remember? Eggplant?

Katrina let herself smile. Gradually, her eyes became used to the spotlight. She looked into the park, and something glinted at her, and there was one face, a little boy with glasses, his head propped up on his hands, watching intently.

The child was looking at her as if she were an angel.

And then, “Oh shit! She’s playing Axxiom!” a voice in the darkness said.

Darkness. Katrina recalled all the nights she had spent listening in the dark. But where she had been alone before, now there were others. They were listening. They were feeling.

A friendly face. A supportive glance. Whether or not she could see them, Katrina knew they were there.

Ellen Seidel noticed the change, but surely this was all due to Shizuka Satomi’s arrangement, right? Whatever else she was, Shizuka Satomi was a masterful illusionist.

The bowing was dynamic, but conventional. The string jumps were fast and pretty, but they spanned nearly identical intervals. And, whenever possible, Shizuka had slipped in an option to sound an open A or D in case her student needed to check her intonation.

This was the perfect way to make a beginner seem better than she was.

But then Ellen Seidel noticed Tamiko Grohl swaying, her eyes tightly shut. She looked around at the rest of the park, all taken by this music. And then, the music took Ellen Seidel as well.