Knives Make Lives

8.) Meetings

Chapter Eight

Will sat with the rest of the eight-year-olds, nervously swinging his legs. His sweaty palms gripped the edge of his chair tighter as the applause sounded once more from beyond the curtain, meaning that the person had finished their piece. In just two more turns, he would be next.

He watched the next musician head onto the stage, gnawing on his bottom lip until the girl beside him began laughing. "What's so funny?" he whispered, remembering how the director had said they had to be quiet backstage.

"You are," she whispered back, wiggling a loose tooth with her tongue. "You bite your lip just like I do. But I can't right now since my tooth is loose."

"My mommy says it's a bad habit," Will told her gravely. She crossed her eyes at him, and he frowned, insulted. "Your eyes are mud-colored."

The girl glared back at him. "Well, at least my eyes don't change colors all the time."

"Mine don't do that."

"Yeah-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah-huh!"

"Shhhh!" hissed the director from the edge of the curtain, and the two children ducked their heads, chastised.

He couldn't let Mud Girl have the last word. "I bet you play a stupid instrument."

"I bet yours is stupider," she shot back venomously, sticking her tongue out at him.

Resisting the urge to yank on one of her pigtails, he smugly told her, "I play the piano. And everyone knows it's the best instrument."

"So do I," she replied, and they both stared at each other suspiciously for a moment. "But I'm better."

"Nuh-uh."

"Yeah-huh."

Seeing the warning glance the director gave them, Will lowered his voice back to a whisper. "Well, I'm playing Brandenburg."

"Well, I'm playing Escher."

He turned away while mumbling, "Whatever."

She just sniggered, covering her mouth with one hand when he spun around to glare at her. Suddenly, the applause came once more, and Mud Girl stood up from her chair. He was somewhat surprised to see her pull an inhaler out from one of the pockets in her violet jumpskirt, watching as she took two puffs before putting it away and shooting him a cocky smile that made his stomach turn. "Wish me luck."

"Hope you place," he snarled, waiting until she'd walked out onto the stage to add, "Last."

Even though he didn't want to hear whatever stupid piece she was playing, Will couldn't help but listen as the song reached his ears. The tempo was fast, much faster than he could play, though he would never admit it aloud. He glowered at her through the curtains until the notes finally came to a stop as the audience whistled and cheered.

"Show off," he grumbled before remembering that it would be his turn next. But for some reason, he wasn't as nervous as before. Will got out of his chair and made his way forward, determined not to be beaten by Mud Girl. Sitting down on the piano bench, he looked at the music sheet in front of him and ignored the hot lights that shone down from above. He stretched his fingers once before he began to play.

He'd practiced the concerto a thousand times, and this time he nailed it better than he believed he'd ever done before. In the crowd below, they clapped just as loudly as they had for the last performance, even though there weren't as many cheers or whistles. Still, he didn't let that phase him as he bowed before exiting stage left to join wait with the other kids who had already played.

This director, a really fat man, made him sit beside Mud Girl, which - in Will's eyes, at least - made him look even fatter. She gave him that stomach-churning grin and said, "You didn't miss a single note."

"You don't gotta sound so surprised," he grumbled, seeing the compliment as another huge insult.

"But I am," she insisted, now affronted herself. "It's really hard to get it all right on your first competition."

"This isn't my first competition!" he lied loudly, causing the fat director to shush him.

Smirking, Mud Girl whispered back, "You're eyes are changing colors again. Does that mean you're lying?"

"My eyes don't change colors!"

"That's it, you two," the fat director cut in. "No more talking for the rest of the competition!"

"But he - "

"But she - "

He seemed to puff up and grow fatter in anger as he quietly yet fiercely ordered, "No. More. Talking."

They did as told, trading glares and funny faces until the announcement for the winners came. "In third place, we have...William Evans!"

Third place? he thought to himself, shocked. I actually placed!

Standing from his chair, he stumbled his way back onto the stage to the thunderous sound of applause. He could faintly her his mom yelling, "That's my baby!" as he shook the three judges' hands and accepted the white ribbon.

"And in second place, we have...Aditya Banerjee!"

An older girl with one long braid skipped onto the stage with a wide smile as the audience cheered once more. They shook hands and congratulated each other as the directors had told them before she went on to except her red ribbon.

"And in first place, the winner of the 2004 Los Angeles Young Pianists Competition is...Niaomi Douglas!"

The applause was nearly deafening as Mud Girl came onto the stage. Will gaped at her in shock, quickly closing his mouth as she held out her hand and shouted over the noise, "Congratulations!"

"Same to you," he reluctantly replied, unable to stop himself from adding, "Niaomud."

Her jaw dropped, and her loose tooth finally fell out at that exact moment to fall onto the stage. She bent down and picked it up, wiping it clean with the edge of her skirt before sticking it into her pocket and squinting at him. "Better luck next time, Will-lose."

She walked past him with her head held high as Will gritted his teeth. He watched as she took the blue ribbon and gripped his own harder, vowing revenge. Next time, Mud Girl - or rather, Niaomud - wouldn't get the best of him.

He'd be ready for her, bellyaches and all.

A/N: More sketches of Niaomi by the amazingly talented Adilene P. up top - and those three aren't even the whole set! Check out the rest of the photo by clicking her tumblr link in my profile. :)