Offbeat by Megan Clendenan

Author:Megan Clendenan
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781459817944
Publisher: Orca Book Publishers
Published: 2018-06-30T16:00:00+00:00

Twelve

I almost miss out on the performance. I sit around by myself all day, banned from everything. Including watching Liam play his People’s Choice performance at the Marketplace stage. If only I had made it back before Anna did. If only I had just asked Anna if I could go to the session. Maybe she would have said yes. Then instead of being stuck here, I’d be watching Liam play. To distract myself, I practice the Cajun tune Robin Ross taught us yesterday. I play until my fingers cramp, but I still can’t remember the whole melody.

It isn’t until after dinner that Ms. O’Krancy decides to let me join the performance, but only for the good of the group. Anna called my mom but didn’t get hold of her.

Now our fiddle group stands on the stage built into the trees. The audience sits below us on the grass. We are lit by real stage lights. I can feel the energy and warmth of the audience being drawn into our tunes. Feet stomp, and hands clap.

Our tunes are a part of me, as much as my fingers, my heart. My feet tap on the rough wooden floor of the stage. Each note flows crisp and bright from my dad’s fiddle. I concentrate on my bow strokes, flowing some notes together with long slurs. Other times my bow attacks the strings. Shilo is with me on every note, every bow stroke. We imagined this night so many times. If only she was talking to me. I can feel her silence.

My hands start to shake as I lose focus, thinking about how I messed up last night. My bow starts to quiver on the string. I press the bow too hard, and my notes come out biting and creaky. I miss a count and am offbeat for a bar. I start to panic and then cringe as my pinky finger comes short for a high note and I’m out of tune, like a little kid. I try to keep breathing normally. I can’t mess this up.

We finish our set of three jigs. Ms. O’Krancy, accompanying us on the guitar, starts a blistering fast reel. She used to tour the country with a folk band so knows how to get a crowd going. I shut my eyes for just one second to feel my fiddle vibrating in my hands and hear a snap!

My A string has broken. It’s ridiculous to try to play without it. But I don’t want to embarrass myself, not now. I pretend to play, but heat rises to my face. More faking. Just like at the session.

The last tune of the set feels like it’s happening in slow motion. My ears are probably the color of bright red apples. Finally it ends. I bow with shame. I show my fiddle to Ms. O’Krancy and then slink off the stage to the storage area near the back.

I don’t want to miss more than one set. I race to the table with the instrument cases, fling my case open and grab the extra strings I keep in the top pocket.

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