Amadeus Irina ~ Part 20

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A lonely young boy is torn between two worlds. Which will he choose—that of his father OR that of his mother?

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Amadeus Irina

By Shauna

Copyright© 2017 Shauna
All Rights Reserved.
 
Splash collage courtesy of Dawn Natelle
(all image originals sourced from Creative Commons)


 

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Chapter Twenty

 

GRACE
I eye her as she gets out of the car and she is paying attention, in spite of her obvious bundle of raw nerves—she gets out perfectly.

We walk up the concrete walk, our heels clicking in near unison and then up the steps. I am still amazed at how quickly she picked up walking in heels.

I smile at Jaime as we make it up to my office. I say, “Good morning, Jaime. I am going to take Day to see Jean. Could you have Kim Myers come to my office in say thirty minutes?”

Jaime smiles back and says, “Sure thing, Grace. Oh, Mindy asked if you could stop by the kitchen sometime today, as well.”

I nod and put my things in my office. I have Day put her things in there, as well, then I lead her to the nurse’s office.

I knock on the door and enter. I see Jean cleaning up the station, as she is always doing. I smile and say, “Good morning, Jean. I want to introduce you to Day; she is in my foster care and we have started the proceedings to adopt her. She is starting classes here today. Before she came into Rich’s and my care, she was homeless and is now on a regimen of medicines and other care to deal with that. She is also transgendered and currently transitioning. I don’t have to tell you what that means…”

Jean smiles at Day and says, “Day? That is an unusual name. Is it short for anything?”

Day blushes and says, “It’s short for Amade…a.”

I can tell she started to say ‘Amadeus’, but she caught herself. I am sure by the end of the day, she will have that under control—there is no doubt she will be asked that many times…

Jean nods and says, “Another unusual name. Welcome to our little arts haven. Are you here for the dancing or the music track?”

Day blushes again and says, “Actually,…both…”

Jean looks a little surprised. She catches herself and says, “Both? Another unusual thing… It looks like you are a very complex girl. Being transgendered seems to be the ONLY normal thing about you!”

I smile behind Day’s back. Leave it to Jean to put her at ease. Day is visibly more comfortable with Jean as soon as she says that.

Jean continues, “I am sure that your Momma here has all of the paperwork in order, but at least for today, if you need to use the ladies’ room, please come to see me and use the one in here. Also, I don’t know how much you intend to make it known that you’re transgendered, but there won’t be a word that comes from me. Now, how about you let me see what medicines you are on…?”

I hand her the list of medications and a couple of bottles to keep in the nurse’s station. That will be her cover for using the bathroom—having to come and take her medicine.

After we chat a few more minutes, I take Day back to my office. Kim Myers is demurely sitting like the lovely little lady she is and talking to Jaime.

She gets up as we enter the office and says, “Good morning, Headmistress. You asked to see me?”

I smile and say, “Come into my office, Kim. Thank you, Jaime!”

We all go into my office and sit at the conference table. Jaime had already made tea for both of them and coffee for me.

I pour the beverages and say, “Thank you for coming, Kim. I would like to introduce you to my daughter, Day. She is currently under my foster care and my husband and I are in the process of adopting her. As such, she is starting school here—on a dual dance and music track; the same as you. I was hoping you would take her under your wing until she gets her feet wet here?”

Kim looks at Day in surprise. I think I detect a bit of…suspicion…in her eyes. She quickly masks it, though and smiles brightly at me and says, “Of course!”

I continue, “Before Day came into my care, she spent a large span of time on the streets as a homeless person. This has, of course, affected her in many ways. One of them is that she will have to frequently visit the nurse’s station to take medication. Otherwise, she has nearly the same schedule as you. I don’t want to keep you from your classes too long. Do you have any questions?”

Kim looks at Day again, clearly sizing her up. I will have to have a talk with Day later and start coaching her on how girls interact. I am pretty sure that Kim won’t pull anything today, but…

Kim says, “No, I can catch up with Day during the day and find out more about her.”

I nod and say, “Thank you, Kim. You’re doing me a big favor. Day, go ahead with Kim to your first class. Don’t forget to see Nurse Jean at 10:00 for your medicine.”

I decide to give Jean a heads-up that Day may need some ‘girl’ support…

I smile as Day nervously picks up her school things and follows Kim out.

I sigh and go to my desk, taking my coffee with me. I log into my computer and check my email. I have several from members of the BOD. They seem quite irate…and worried. It seems that Barnabas’ plan is working… I don’t think we will have to worry about THIS BOD much longer….

I make a note to go see Mindy in a bit and place a call to Barnabas.
 

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DAY

Slay today’s dragon? Should be easy! I am told I am a genius.

Sure, I pick up on things easily—especially when it pertains to music. I have problems relating to people, though—unless it is through music. That seems to be sort of a common language for me. Maybe my issues with connecting with people is why I feel like I am going to throw up.

I am so nervous…

I barely remember to get out of the car but swing my legs out, while keeping them together, and then elegantly getting up on my feet without showing anything that should not be shown.

I follow Momma into the school—my dread increasing with each click of our heels. It is like they are the clicks of some devious clock signaling the passage of time and that my sentence of doom is steadily getting closer.

I shake my head. I have nothing to be nervous about—at least not in terms of school. I am sure I can outplay anyone here. I am sure I can keep up with anyone in dance. I am sure that the academic work will not be an issue.

Then why do I feel so…scared?

OK, I am going to school as a girl when, technically, I am not. I mean, I am…but…not. Oh, you know what I mean! What if I get found out? I HAVE heard of horror stories…

I sigh. Yes, I am sure that is part of it. That and the fact that it took me YEARS to make just ONE friend at my old school… I hate being around other people—unless I am dancing with them. Even then, I prefer dancing solo…

I look up. Momma is talking to Jaime. I was so lost in my own thoughts that I hadn’t even noticed where we were going.

Before I know it, we are going to see someone named Jean.

I am slightly surprised when we wind up at the nurse’s office. Nurse Jean immediately puts me at ease, though. She teases me in a way that somehow just makes me feel better and I actually have to suppress a giggle when she tells me that being transgendered is the only thing that is NORMAL about me!

After establishing that I am to come here, for the time being, to go to the restroom, and my other medical needs, Momma takes me back to her office.

There is a cute, tiny girl sitting and talking to Jaime. She is about my height and has strawberry-blond hair in a tight ponytail. She is clearly a dancer from the way she holds herself. I can’t help but notice the telltale callouses of a string player on her fingers. I don’t see a violin hickey on her neck, which means she doesn’t play the violin—although, she has a lot of makeup on; she could just have it covered up…

I am soon introduced to her and Momma sets it up that Kim, also in a dual-track, will be my school ‘mentor’.

She seems nice enough, but, something seems…off… I mentally kick myself. Thoughts like THAT are why I can’t make friends. I am sure I am just being paranoid. Momma wouldn’t pair me up with someone that is…off…

After we talk a few minutes in Momma’s office, I am off to class with her. I gather my violin, my backpack, and my purse and follow her out.

When we are in the hallway, she says, “Well, Day. Just so we are clear. I will show you where your classes are. That doesn’t mean that we are friends. You are clearly competition to me here. I plan on winning the scholarship competition and am one of only two, well, now three, dual track students. The other is Jimmy Borden—and he is not entering the competition.”

I look at her—surprised. Not so much by her outburst—more so, that I was RIGHT.

I shrug and say, “Look. First, I don’t know anything about this competition. Second, I don’t need a scholarship…”

Kim looks at me in obvious disgust and says, “Sure—your ‘Momma’ is the headmistress. I am sure you get a free ride here! MOST of us have to pay and we HATE people who don’t have to work for it.”

I stop in my tracks and tightly ball my fists. I say, “Not that it is ANY of your business, but *I* am paying my way. I am not here because Momma is the headmistress. I am here because I EARNED a slot—like anyone else.”

She laughs at me and says, “How would someone from off the streets have the money?”

I shake my head and say, “I don’t care if you believe me. Just show me the way to class.”

She smirks at me and says, “I bet you can’t even PLAY that thing. We’ll soon enough know, though. I am the best cellist in the school and, as such, am the principal cellist.We are headed to orchestra and violinists are a dime a dozen in there—and there is an intense fight for first desk. I WOULD say good luck, but…”

I shrug and say, “No worries, I don’t need it!”

We enter the room and there are about thirty students with a variety of instruments—some even electric, which surprises me. Kim IS right about one thing, though. Roughly three fourths of the strings in the room are violins.

Kim goes to her cello and starts warming up.

I just look around—not sure what to do. I take out my violin and start tuning it.

An elderly man comes in and looks around. He smiles when he sees me and comes over. He says, “You must be Day, since I don’t know you and I am only slated to have one new student. Am I right?”

I bite my lower lip and nod.

He says, “OK, then. Welcome to orchestra. My name is Maestro Burns. I understand that you are dual-track. Normally, I don’t approve of that, since it takes away from your concentration on any one track—but, before I judge you, let’s see what you can do. Are you familiar with Tchaikovsky’s Violin Concerto in D?”

I smile. I can play that piece backwards, with one hand tied behind my back, and asleep. It was the first piece that Father taught me.

I just nod.

He says, “OK, then. I see you have a Stainer. Nice instrument. Let’s see if you can play it. Assume first desk, outside and let’s give it a shot.”

There is loud grumbling from the other violinists and another smirk from Kim.

I nod again and wait for everyone to take up their positions.

Maestro Burns takes the conductor’s stand and starts.

I am not nervous at this moment; THIS I’ve got!

I wait for my cue and start playing

When I am done, there is stunned silence and then enthusiastic clapping—even begrudgingly from the other violinists. I try my hardest not to smirk at the confused look on Kim’s face.

Maestro Burns comes over and gives me a hug. He says, “I think we have found our concertmistress!”

He rearranges some of the players and we play through the piece several more times.

When the class is over, Kim comes over to take me to the next one. She has to pull me out of the curious throng of students so that we are not late to my first dance class.

When we are in the hall, she begrudgingly says, “OK. So you CAN play. You really DO have money?”

I just nod.

She says, “Well…so, you can dance, too?”

I simply nod.

She says, “OK. We’ll know soon enough. We have about thirty minutes to class and we DON’T want to be late and we have to change! Madame Broussard will KILL us if we aren’t on time. But… You certainly need help in another matter!”

We are passing by a girl’s restroom and she surprises me by pulling me in before I can protest.

My heart is thumping; I am not supposed to be in here with other girls!

She quickly pulls me over to the well-lit vanity and takes a case out of her bag. She says, “I guess makeup is not a big thing when you are on the streets. But, if you are going to be my shadow, *I* have a reputation to uphold and you’re not going to mess up my cred. I also happen to be a crowned beauty queen, so…”

She quickly goes to work on my face; again, before I can protest.

When she is done, she says, “It will have to do for now. I need to have the proper makeup for your complexion…”

I look in the mirror and gasp.

She says, “Don’t you DARE tell anyone I said this, but you are really quite beautiful. Thank goodness I am not into beauty contests anymore… I might start getting a complex!”

I just stare at my face.

She says, “You know, you are a dead ringer for Yelena Baronova? You DO know who that is, right?”

I jerk and look at her, fighting back tears. I shrug and say with a slight sniffle, “Umm… Yeah, I know who she was… She was my mother…”

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Author’s Note:
 
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