Ayumi's Violin by Mariko Tatsumoto

Author:Mariko Tatsumoto
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: bullies, historical, social, award winning, new family, fitting in, girl book, asian american fiction, prejudice and racism
Publisher: Mariko Tatsumoto

Chapter 18: CAUGHT

The day after Christmas, the Parish Hall buzzed with what Ayumi learned was the Christmas spirit—hugging, kissing, back-slapping, handshaking, cooing, and ogling. As soon as the Golightly family entered, Marilyn said, “We’re sitting here,” grabbed Brenda’s hand, and dragged her down in the folding chair next to her. Ayumi stood behind the last row of chairs to stay out of everyone’s way. People smiled and waved at her. Marilyn looked around at the dark-headed people and made a distasteful face.

“Why did I have to come? I like rock and roll,” Brenda whined, “and we’re not Catholic.”

“You’re right,” Marilyn said. “This is going to give me a headache even back here.” She half rose out of her seat.

“Here.” Father handed her two white blobs. “Ear plugs.”

“I don’t—”

“Use them.” Father’s face was calm, but he glared into Marilyn’s eyes.

“They’re all...” Marilyn dropped her voice to a whisper, “Mexicans.”

“No, they’re all Americans.” Then he said to Brenda, “You’ll enjoy listening to your sister play.” He patted her on the head.

“Ayumi. Merry Christmas.” Wilma Johnson grinned at them in an elegant red velvet dress that reached just below her knees. A string of pearls lay around her throat. Her coat slipped to the floor in her excitement. Father retrieved it and handed it back to her.

“Thank you,” Miss Johnson said. “Did you all have a nice Christmas?”

“I got a Barbie,” Brenda exclaimed.

“Wonderful! Please, you don’t have to sit back here. We have the front row saved for you.” The opera star waved her arm to indicate that they should get up and move forward.

“Thank you,” Father said. “Honey?”

Marilyn rose stiffly from her seat as if her joints hurt and walked to the front row. Father urged Brenda to join Mrs. Garcia and Father John already seated there.

Father John said, “Ayumi gives us such a gift performing for us, especially at such an important time of the year.”

“You look Christmasy in red,” Miss Johnson said to Ayumi, ignoring the fact that she’d worn the same red suit for the Thanksgiving concert.

The hall was packed, and latecomers stood around the sides leaning against the walls. Ayumi scanned the audience for Diego, but she couldn’t see him. She hoped he was here and stepped up to the stage to prepare.

A hush fell over the hall and everyone sat forward in their seats when Ayumi lifted her stolen violin and struck her first note of Prokofiev’s sonata. No matter where the instrument had come from, by herself or in front of an audience, playing made her feel like the sun and the moon were up at the same time, bringing total beauty to her world.

After the vivacious first movement and the meditative second movement, while she was playing the third movement, the front door banged open. Startled, Ayumi stopped in mid-stroke and opened her eyes. What she saw made her arms lose all strength, and her bow slipped out of her fingers.

The baldheaded man from the music store and a black-uniformed policeman were marching up the narrow aisle.

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