Piano Forte

         

 

CHAPTER 42

THE VELVET TOUCH

 

SATURDAY, JULY 12

 

<Austin>

 

Cleaning and packing didn’t take nearly as long as Austin had feared. William’s efficiency along with the help of James made the process move along quickly. Austin and William rose early, shared a quick shower, dressed, and found James and John waiting for them in the foyer as they had arranged the night before. When they arrived in the dining hall, they found Titus and Ned at a large table and joined them.

 

“Are you going to be ready to meet with Grandpa Gene at eleven?” Austin asked his two friends.

 

“That’s our plan,” Ned said. “I hope the meeting isn’t too long.”

 

“It shouldn’t be,” William said. “Grandpa Gene isn’t big on talking a lot—he says he likes action over chatter.”

 

“I thought he said it might take forty-five minutes,” Austin pointed out.

 

“Something else I learned from gramps—always schedule a meeting to be longer than you plan for it to be and that way everybody thinks you’re totally awesome for making it shorter than you said.”

 

“Grandpa Gene is sure a smart dude.”

 

“See, that’s exactly what he wants to you think.”

 

The boys didn’t waste a lot of time talking. They wolfed down their breakfasts and headed back to their rooms to finish cleaning. On their way to the dorm, they passed Gary and Steve heading for the dining hall.

 

“Did you have fun last night?” Ned asked.

 

“Steve is the world’s best brother,” Gary said as he put his left index finger between his circled right index finger and thumb in the universal finger representation for fucking.  Steve turned bright red but smiled at the thought of what must be going through the heads of his brother’s friends.

 

After brushing their teeth, everyone went back to work cleaning and packing. Because Austin would be meeting Gene at ten, he knew he had to move extra fast. By nine-thirty he was ready. All he had left to do the next morning was strip his bed and turn in his bedding, toss his dirty clothes in his suitcase, and have the room inspected.

 

“I’ll take care of getting the room inspected,” William told Austin. “You go meet with Gramps and I’ll see you at eleven.”

 

“Thanks, Willie. Just for that I’ll suck your willie tonight,” Austin said.

 

“Sounds like a plan.”

 

Gene was sitting in his regular chair when Austin entered the media room. He sat on the piano bench and fought the temptation to place his fingers on the keyboard and play something. “Good morning, Grandpa Gene.”

 

“Good morning Austin. I take it your room is ready to go except for the beds.”

 

“It still needs to be inspected, but William is taking care of that.”

 

“I don’t understand why they are inspecting it today when you still have a night to mess the room and the bathroom up.”

 

“A prick…um, proctor will come to get out keycards tomorrow after we turn in our bedding. I guess he makes sure the room is still in one piece. I guess as long as the bathroom is decently clean, we’re good to go. They told us that maintenance does an ultra-cleaning and sanitizes the place and everything after the suite is cleared out.”

 

“I suppose it makes sense. Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?”

 

“Well, first I wanted to say thank you,” Austin said. “You have been fantastically awesome. It’s like you were my real grandpa or something. I love you Grandpa Gene; you made this great camp an out of this universe amazing camp. I can’t wait to stay with you during the festival and learn even more.”

 

“Thank you, Austin. That means a lot to me. For my part you have become a second grandson to me. You’ve perked up this retired pianist who was trying to figure out what to do with himself now that he’s not on the concert circuit. You made my time, well, out of this universe special, as you put it.” Gene stood up and walked to the bench. “Stand up.” Austin did so. Gene then gave his new grandson a long and heartfelt hug.

 

Austin sat back on the bench after Gene released him. “You said that was the first thing you had to say. What was second?”

 

“I was off a little bit on the Granados last night. I couldn’t get the right feel and I even missed a note and…”

 

Gene held up his right hand and Austin stopped talking. “Forget the missed note. Remember that Chopin said that missing notes was the best way to learn a piece of music and how it is constructed. Your touch was wonderful and better than probably ninety-nine percent of the twelve-year-old pianists in the world.” Gene didn’t think the percentage he quoted was hyperbole—he honestly believed every word of it. “You          were off just enough last night to give you room to improve this afternoon, so don’t worry your fool head about it.”

 

“My fool head?”

 

“It’s a figure of speech my mother loved to use when I was kid and got frustrated learning some piece of music and started banging out the notes instead of playing them.”

 

“I can’t imagine you getting frustrated and banging out notes,” Austin noted.

 

“That’s because you didn’t know me when I was twelve. I admit I was damn good, but I did not have your demeanor or velvet touch on the keyboard. My advice to you is to sit down and play when your turn comes up.”

 

“Thanks, Gramps.” After telling his Grandpa Gene he loved him and getting the greatest hug he had ever received from a man since his father was killed, Austin felt the time was right to call Grandpa Gene “Gramps” just like William did. “This afternoon it will be just me and the piano. I can almost feel in my mind how I’m going to touch the piano when I play my air piano, only on the piano I’m communicating that feeling to the keyboard. Did that make sense, or is just a lot of bullshit?”

 

“It was the farthest thing from bullshit,” Gene responded. “Great artists listen to their music speak to them and in turn they speak to their music and communicate with their instrument, just as you described.”

 

Austin nodded, pleased that his Grandpa Gene felt he was on the right track. “Didn’t you say that Dr. Markham would be meeting with me at ten-thirty?”

 

“I did, and since that’s still a few minutes away I’ll text him to meet with us now, unless you have something else to share.”

 

“Nope. And thanks again for being my Gramps.”

 

“It was my pleasure.”  Gene pulled out his phone and sent a text. Dr. Markham, who had been waiting just down the hall, showed up less than a minute later.

 

Austin stood up to shake his Tacoma Youth Symphony’s Director, but Dr. Markham signaled him to remain seated. “It’s good to see you again, Austin.”

 

“You too, Dr. Markham.”

 

“I have a Festival schedule worked out for you and the orchestra.”

 

“Is it the same as we talked about when you asked me to play?” Austin asked.

 

“Yes, except it now has the times as well. As I’m sure you remember, I casually mentioned I may schedule you to play with the orchestra in one of our regular concerts, but I have filled that slot with a talented girl from New York.” Markham and Gene could see the disappointment on Austin’s face.

 

“Remember that was a tentative invitation,” Gene reminded Austin.

 

“I know. I guess I just wasn’t ready to hear the news yet.”

 

“And my timing was bad since your mind should be on your performances tonight. But, that said, there is another possibility,” Markham said.

 

“What is it?”

 

“I can’t say since this change is also tentative. I won’t know anything until next month. I won’t say any more until after I see how you play with the orchestra at the Festival. The Festival is a great place to get a start on playing with an orchestra, but when playing a regular concert, it helps to look like you’ve been there and done that.”

 

“I understand. I’m happy you’re thinking about me and if it ends up not happening, I will have something to work for next season, right Grandpa Gene?”

 

“That would be correct my young friend.”

 

“And, I will have the best master teacher in the world helping me out,” Austin grinned.

 

“I will vouch for the correctness of that statement,” Markham grinned.

 

“Can I ask you a quick question, Dr. Markham.”

 

“Please do.”

 

“I heard that sometimes somebody not regularly in a youth orchestra can play with the orchestra in one of the works.”

 

“That’s true.”

 

“I just wanted to ask that you listen really close to my friend Titus this afternoon. I think it would be great if he got to play the Mozart I’m playing with the orchestra. I know he plays in his middle school orchestra so it’s not like he’s never done it with anybody. Plus, his dad plays violin on the Cascade Symphony and I know his dad helps him a lot.”

 

“What middle school does he attend?” Dr. Markham asked.

 

“Einstein.”

“While I don’t recruit regulars for my orchestra who live that far from Tacoma, I do know they have a fine orchestra program. I will be sure to give him an extra careful look this afternoon.”

 

“Thank you, Dr. Markham. And thank you again for asking me to play for you. I will be working a lot with Grandpa Gene and Mr. Fielding, my regular piano teacher, before I see you again.”

 

“I’m positive you’re going to play well with the orchestra, Austin, or I would not have extended the invitation. I look forward to working with you.”

 

Dr. Markham shook Austin’s hand and Gene’s hand and left the media room. “He sure is a lot different than Dr. Byers. He is totally nice, and Dr. Byers is, well he is…yeah, he isn’t very nice, at least not to me.”

 

“But, they both get outstanding results from their orchestras.”

 

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to like Dr. Byers.”

 

“Your boyfriend seems to like him,” Gene pointed out.

 

“That’s because he wasn’t called a ‘dreadful redhead’,” Austin said. “Can I take a bathroom break before we have our Master Musician meeting?”

 

“Go right ahead. Just be back in the office conference room by eleven.”

 

<The Young Master Musicians>

 

The five Young Master Musicians were all seated at a table in the conference room by eleven. They were all dressed in the best clothes they had packed for camp. After the meeting, they would be going to lunch together and then walk back to the school for their final recitals.

 

Gene was seated at the head of the table with a woman wearing a dark brown pantsuit. He introduced her as Annette Burke, the director of the Seattle Youth Music festival. The five Musicians introduced themselves as Gene had instructed them the day before.

 

After the introductions Gene and Annette went into the schedule the Young Masters would be following during the Festival. “All of your recitals will be in Room 104 at the Seattle Center pavilion,” Annette told them. “While it doesn’t have the greatest acoustics for music—the sound tends to be a little harsh—our sound people have the knowhow to improve the acoustics to a passable level and when there is an attendance the bodies help soften the harshness.”

 

She then went into the details of the scheduling. “Who plays is up to you. You are welcome to invite other musicians in for any of your recitals. What you play is up to you. The Festival schedule for each of your recital times have a caveat that your performance schedule is wide open. Mr. Delacroix said that was how you wanted to work it and he was fine with it. And if Gene Delacroix is good with how you’re going to run your recitals then so am I.”

 

William raised his hand. “Yes, William?”

 

“What if we have some works we know we’re going to perform, or maybe a performer other than one of us we plan on scheduling ahead of time? Can we have that in the program?”

 

“Absolutely. Unless you think what you have will fill your scheduled hour we can add a caveat that other works will be performed as well.”

 

Austin didn’t raise his hand since this wasn’t school. He saw it as an open discussion. “Do we need to add that café whatever it is or can we just fill the hour with whatever we, or maybe our guest, want to play at that time?”

 

“This is your project, Austin. You can handle it however you wish as long as it’s something we can accommodate, and it fits within your scheduled time.”

 

Following Austin’s example, William spoke up without raising his hand. “It says on the schedule that our first hour is on Saturday afternoon. I thought the Festival didn’t start until Sunday.”

 

“Officially, it doesn’t start until Sunday. But we have our venues rented from Friday, August first until Sunday the tenth. Much of Friday will be spent by our staff setting things up, but Saturday will offer special performances for the early birds,” Annette told them. “You will note that the Bellingham Youth Orchestra will perform on Saturday at McCaw Hall, but the official opening concert will be Sunday afternoon with the Tacoma Youth Symphony Orchestra, where Austin will be performing. The Saturday performances won’t require tickets—seating will be first come first served.”

 

“People won’t need tickets for our Young Master stuff, right?” Gary asked.

 

“That is correct. Your performances are open performances and open to all, unless you should happen to fill the room, in which case we will have to close the doors. There will be no standing room performances.”

 

The Young Master Musicians were scheduled to have the room for an hour on Saturday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and twice on Thursday, for a total of five hours.

 

The meeting ended after just over a half-hour. The boys thanked Mrs. Burke for her time and then left for the last lunch of the camp.

 

<Last Lunch>

 

The five Young Master Musicians found an open eight-person table and claimed it. It went without saying that they would be sitting together for the last lunch at camp. They were pleased when John and James joined them and were surprised when Steve joined them as well.

 

“Are the big brothers ready to have the little rug rats back home?” William asked James and Steve. Austin and Gary knew that the comment was directed at them as well. 

 

“Hey, after what happened last night, there is no way that brother of mine is a rug rat,” Steve said. “I don’t know what he is, but rug rat isn’t one of them.”

 

“Details please?” John asked.

 

“Gary showed all that needs to be said,” Steve responded, referring to his brother’s finger display that morning.

 

“Don’t you have a big brother, Titus?” John asked, although he knew the answer.

 

“You know I do, and you know we’ve never done any of the stuff you’re thinking,” Titus answered.

 

“And all Ned has is his sweet sister,” Steve remarked.

 

“You found out how sweet she is,” Ned said.

 

“She wasn’t bad until she got a hair up her pussy. I know it sounds gay, but Gary was way better to be in bed with.”

 

“Steve, we don’t care how gay anything sounds, you know.”
 

“Yeah, I know. I’m just not used to talking about gay things.”

 

“Speaking of trouble, look who’s stomping over here,” Austin said.

 

Ned’s sister Shannon walked up to Steve and glared at him. “Steven Wright, what are you doing sitting with my brother and all his disgusting friends when it’s our last chance to have lunch together?” she griped.

 

“Um…eating lunch maybe?” Steve smirked.

 

“And Ned, you know mom and dad are going to be here any minute and you’re still sitting with your so-called friends. I wouldn’t count on coming back across the border to go to that stupid festival if I were you.” Ned was about to scream at his sister when Gary put his hand over his friend’s mouth. He knew his brother was about to tell off his ex-girlfriend—or was she just a fuckbuddy?

 

“You know what you can do Shannon?” Steve asked.

 

“What?” she asked.

 

“You can go back to where you were sitting with your stupid girlfriends—or better yet, go sit in a corner somewhere until you can grow up.”

 

“I just want all your friends to know you really sucked in bed,” Shannon snarled.

 

“Like she would know,” Steve said so only Gary and his friends could hear.

 

Gary wrapped his left arm around his older brother’s shoulder, “You know, you’re pretty cool, bro.”

 

“Thanks. And I’m really sorry I all but ignored you for that bitch. Nothing personal, Ned.”

 

“None taken,” Ned said. “But I will say one thing. She’s always mean sometimes, but she went way off the deep end here at camp. I thought mom giving her instructions to watch over me got to her head, but I think it’s something else.”

 

“Well, it can’t be because she’s on the rag, because she’s been like that since camp started,” John said. “Ned’s been complaining about her almost since our first day as roommates.”

 

“Maybe she’s upset because she knows Ned is a way better musician than she is,” William mused. “And now, Ned’s playing in the finals this afternoon and she’s never even made a Saturday recital.”

 

“Plus, Ned’s got a bunch of really good friends,” Austin pointed out. “He gets a lot out of it, and that’s not throwing all the sex into it.”

 

“Well, whatever, I won’t have to see her again,” Steve said. “I hope she gets better when you guys get home.”

 

“I’ll be leaving home early to do stuff for the Young Master Musicians before the Festival starts.”

 

“Is she coming down here for the Festival?” Steve asked.

 

“I guess for part of it—she’s coming with Mom and Dad. And she’s even mad about that because I’m coming early and then staying for the whole Festival with a family. Anyway, I’m going to have fun and not worry what she thinks.” Ned turned to Steve and said, “I’m sorry it didn’t work out between you two.”

 

“It’s cool. It’s not your fault, Ned. And you know what? I thought she did okay in bed,” Steve laughed.

 

<The Waiting Area>

 

As soon as they had finished lunch, the Five Master Musicians, along with John, James, and Steve, walked together back to the middle school and into the auditorium. The time was a few minutes before one and the finals were scheduled to start at two. The Five Masters were supposed to be backstage by one-fifteen, but they wanted to get to the auditorium early so they could get themselves mentally prepared for their performances. The morning felt like it had been busier than any morning during camp. None of them felt like there had been enough time for their preparations.

 

The three older boys wished the Five Masters good luck and looked for seats. Unlike the Five Masters, John had no intention of going backstage early. He wanted to keep his mind off the upcoming performance and thought that sitting with James and Steve and chatting was the best way available to do that.

 

The only talk between the boys after they went backstage to the waiting area was William asking Austin how he felt. “I feel ready,” Austin replied. “Now, I just want to play my air piano and get myself totally ready. I love you, William.”

 

“I love you, too,” William responded as he watched his boyfriend walk to one of the cushioned chairs in the back of the room. William didn’t understand the whole air piano thing, but he knew it meant a lot to Austin. He wondered if he could begin to integrate the idea into his own mental preparedness by learning from Austin how he connected the movement of his fingers on an imaginary keyboard to his brain. Or was it the other way around? Was he connecting what was in his brain to his fingers? Knowing how his mind worked when he played piano, William decided it was the second question that told the story of what playing the air piano was about. He had no doubt that it was time for him to take up the practice.

 

The waiting area was silent until Dr. Boardman and Mr. Shepard stepped into the room at twenty after one. Since all the performers were present, the two decided to draw for positioning ten minutes earlier than scheduled.

 

“William, Austin, and Mary will be performing twice,” Dr. Boardmen told the finalists. “If any of them are drawn to play back-to-back, then we will redraw for the position. If any of them end up being the last two remaining musicians, then we will have a complete redraw.” The eight impatient participants nodded that they understood and gave Boardman and Shepherd their full attention.

 

As Dr. Boardman went through the protocols of the finals, Mr. Shepard stepped into the backstage area and signaled for Jordan, who had been waiting patiently for the camp director to beckon him to join the group in the waiting area. Jordan and Mr. Shepard joined the waiting musicians.

 

Dr. Boardman was finishing his brief presentation by reminding the finalists of the awards they could earn. All eight of the musicians would receive a 25% percent campership toward next summer’s Bainbridge Music camp just for placing in the finals. Fourth place would end up with a 50% campership, third place with 75%, second place with 80%, and the grand prize for first place was a 100% campership plus the use of the special suite of rooms located on the top floor of the dormitory.

 

After finishing his talk, Dr. Boardman turned the meeting over to Mr. Shepard. “Most of you know Jordan, our sound engineer,” Mr. Shephard said. “For those of you who don’t, Jordan is a senior at Bainbridge High School and a computer and sound equipment whiz. I am going to turn the drawing over to him.”

 

Austin, Gary, Ned, and Titus tried hard to focus on what Jordan was saying rather than on what had transpired between him and the group in the sound room. Jordan walked over to a laptop he had set up on a desk on the left side of the room. “I have a random number generator loaded into the laptop,” the teen said. “When I click on the choose number icon, it will choose a number between one and eight. It is programmed to not duplicate a number, so the draw should work quickly.”

 

Ned raised his hand and Jordan, who was amused by his formality, called on him. “What if you have to redraw a number?” Ned asked. “How does the number you picked go back with the rest of the numbers?”

 

“Good question, Ned. After the number is picked, I have the choice of clicking on ‘accept number’ or ‘reject number’,” Jordan explained. “In the event we need to have a total redraw, then I just start the whole thing over from scratch. Okay, Dr. Boardman is going to assign you your numbers and then we draw.”

 

The momentary erotic flash the Young Masters experienced went away quickly. Things had now gotten serious.

 

Dr. Boardman had already picked who was getting what number—all he had to do was read the names. “Austin, you are number one. William is number two. Alejandro and Mary are three. Titus and Ms Zimmer are four.” As if on cue, Ms Zimmer entered the waiting area. “Ned and Gary are five, Austin and William are six, John and Mr. Delacroix are seven,” like Ms Zimmer, Gene appeared from the backstage area, “and Mary is eight. Now I will turn the process back to Jordan.”

 

Jordan had connected the laptop to a large flatscreen monitor so everyone could follow what was happening. Jordan clicked on the ‘choose number’ icon. It came up three which was Alejandro and Mary. Alejandro pumped his fist; he had been hoping to be first so he wouldn’t have to compare himself to anybody as he played. Jordan clicked on the ‘accept number’ icon and then picked the next number, which was two. William and his Schubert impromptu would be second on the program.

 

Austin took a deep breath and wondered if he would be following his boyfriend. Jordan clicked on ‘choose number’ and five popped up—Ned and Gary. The fourth pick would be the last performance before intermission. William and Austin had discussed earlier how the number four slot could be an advantage, as long as they played well, since it would have members of the audience talking about them during intermission. They grinned at each other when number six came up on the screen giving them the slot they wanted.

 

The first performance after intermission would go to number seven, John and his accompanist Gene playing Mozart. Number one popped up next, which was Austin performing Granados. Mary’s number eight was the next number to appear on the screen, which left Titus and Ms Zimmer as the last of the eight performances.

 

“Thank you, Jordan, for an outstanding job,” Mr. Shepard said. He then addressed the performers. “You have a little less than twenty minutes before we begin, so I suggest you take care of whatever business you need to take care of now rather than when it’s time for you to go on stage.” His comment elicited mild chuckles and helped ease the tension some.

 

<The Finals>

 

Alejandro and Mary got the program off to a good start with their rendition of “Flight of the Bumblebee.” They had the audience buzzing when they finished. Alejandro played Henry Purcell’s “Prince of Denmark’s March” as his encore.

 

William then outdid his semifinal performance of Schubert’s Impromptu, Opus 90, Number 2. For his encore he played what he and Austin felt would be a fitting work—Debussy’s “Golliwog’s Cakewalk.” Once again, the applause was enthusiastic. The auditorium was packed, not only with campers and their family and friends, but with community members who considered the Bainbridge Camp finals to be one of the Bainbridge Island’s cultural highlights of the summer. Quite a few members of the audience had come across Puget Sound from Seattle as well. The veteran audience members felt the first two performances were among the best they had ever heard at the camp finals.

 

Ned and Gary were entertaining with their original flute and piano rendition of Joplin’s “The Entertainer”. They elected to not play an encore, mainly because they wanted their unique transcription to stick in the minds of the audience.

 

Austin and William entered the stage to perform the piano and guitar transcription of Boccherini’s “Fandango.” Jordan’s sound setup was perfect, Austin’s touch on the piano was perfect, his touch on the keyboard matching William’s perfect guitar playing. Before the performance they were worried because they hadn’t put any work into the music that morning—but their performance was their best one yet. That evening, as they evaluated what had happened, they agreed that not rehearsing in the morning may have been the right thing to do, even if it hadn’t been what they planned. As the two lovers bounced through the rollicking Fandango at the conclusion of the work, their love of the music, their love of their instruments, and most importantly, their love of each other was apparent to all. The standing ovation they received was long and passionate. Like Ned and Gary, William and Austin decided to not play an encore—they wanted their prime performance, the one they had worked so hard on for so long, to stand out with the voters.

 

One of the protocols of the finals that was different from the other recitals was that the performers could not mingle with the audience during intermission. They were an elite group of musicians and would be maintaining their distance from friends, family, and strangers. As Dr. Boardman had said, “On this occasion, you will remain aloof and let your music speak for itself.”

 

The buzz of the audience during intermission sent a message to the performers, faculty, and stage help, that the first half of the program had been successful. The audience was obviously excited by what they had heard. If the musicians performing in the second half of the program felt any pressure from having to compete with the outstanding performances of the first half, they didn’t display it.

 

Austin had enjoyed the great music of the first half, including what he and William had presented. He approached the second half and his performance of the Granados “Oriental” in the manner he had discussed with Gene—all that existed now was the piano and himself. Nothing else mattered.

 

The second half started with John playing the Rondeau from Mozart’s K 376 violin sonata. John and Gene played extremely well together and in the short time they’d had to learn about each other they managed to piece together a remarkable performance. But the short time they had also kept John from being as polished as the first half performers. Gene’s incredible job as John’s partner kept the performance at a high level. Despite the loud applause of the audience, they knew their performance wasn’t up to the level needed to finish in the top four. They did not have an encore, simply because they hadn’t had the time needed to learn one together. John walked off the stage knowing he had nothing to be ashamed of—his performance had been at a level worthy of a finalist. Gene had told John as much as they entered the waiting area. The great musician’s hug and encouraging words meant as much to John as finishing in the top four.

 

Austin was next. The campers had heard everyone play their pieces before, of course. William wasn’t the only camper who felt that once a camper advanced to the second level of competition he or she should be able to perform a different piece of music than their original piece. He also wasn’t the only camper who was politely told that the current system was the one that the Bainbridge music camp had followed from the beginning and that it had always worked out just fine. “That doesn’t make it right,” William had mumbled.

 

The fact that the campers, the staff, and some of the parents and friends had heard Austin play the Granados already, didn’t stop them from feeling a sense of anticipation as Austin adjusted the piano bench. Yet over half of the audience had never heard the “Oriental”, let alone heard Austin perform it. Many of them had heard that the boy’s performances of the work had been remarkable and were eager to find out what made the playing of the redheaded twelve-year-old so special. It was this special sense of expectancy that buzzed through the audience during the finals that was given as the reason the camp had maintained the same system of competition throughout its history.

 

As soon as Austin’s fingers touched the keyboard, he knew he was where he wanted to be. Touching the ivories felt like touching air—the touch of his fingers was velvet, and his playing made the piano sing. The wonderful acoustics of the auditorium made certain that the members of the audience heard the sounds that Austin knew he was creating. He never missed a note. When he finished a perfect rendition of the beautiful work, the audience rose as one, clapping, cheering, whistling, and shouting out Austin’s name. Gene was as loud and enthusiastic as anyone in the audience—he knew better than anybody he had heard a performance as good as could be expected of any seasoned professional let alone a cute young boy who was just discovering how talented he really was.

 

Austin did have an encore. He and William had agreed to use one of the works they had learned as their opener in camp. For William it had been the “Golliwog’s Cakewalk.” For Austin, it was the Chopin Waltz Number 14. He used the lively work to razzle dazzle the audience, which was exactly what an encore was supposed to do. After he finished, Austin bowed for one more standing ovation. As he started off the stage, he heard a familiar girl’s voice shouting, “I love you, Austin.”

 

Mary Kwon’s playing of Mendelssohn was technically perfect as usual, but her performance also lacked emotion, as usual. She received polite applause that was loud and long in appreciation of a job well done. But like her performance, it lacked emotion. She played Chopin’s Etude, Opus 10 Number 12 as her encore. The difficult and lively piece earned her more applause than her featured work, mainly because she put some emotion into the keyboard. Austin thought the encore was the best he had ever heard her play.

 

Titus had the final performance. With Ms Zimmer accompanying him, Titus’s performance was brilliant. As with the other Young Master Musicians in the finals, his playing was flawless and emotional. It was like each of the friends set the standards for the others to meet and all of them performed up to those standards.

 

The entire audience would not be involved in the voting. As with the semi-finals all the staff members and campers had a ballot, and random members of the remaining audience received ballots when they entered the auditorium. Gene played background music on the piano as the campers who were assigned to pick up the audience and camper ballots completed their task. They handed the ballots to Mr. Shepard, Dr. Boardman, and Ms Zimmer who took them to the school office to be run through the test checker.

 

It didn’t take long for the machine to spit out the final results. Mr. Shepard scanned the printout and said, “I am not surprised—not at all surprised.”

 

The director handed the sheet to Dr. Boardman who showed it to Ms Zimmer. Mr. Shepard took back the printout and the three staff members returned to the auditorium. Gene faded his music to a stop and the buzzing of the audience quieted as they walked up onto the stage. Dr. Boardman went backstage and signaled to the eight finalists to come out on the stage.

 

“Campers and other members of the audience, we have the final four finishers for this year of the Bainbridge Music Camp. First, please applaud all eight of your fellow campers. They are all amazing young musicians and every one of them is a winner. Their performances were without question among the best ever in the history of the camp.” He then went on to explain what all of the finalists earned by making it this far and what the award winners would earn for their finish.

 

“Our fourth place finishers, who played not only a very familiar piece but also some creative improvisation they created themselves are Gary Wright and Ned Walsh.” The audience applauded and cheered as Gary and Ned stepped forward to receive their certificates. All the finalists would have trophies with the kind of instrument they played on the base and their names etched on the base mailed to them when they were finished. The four place winners would also have their position engraved under their names.

 

“In third place with a marvelous performance of Shubert is William Delacroix.” More applause and cheers. William stepped forward, smiled, bowed, and accepted his certificate. The William of a month ago would have been furious at finishing as low as third, but the William standing on the stage at the end of camp knew that his placing third meant that the boy he loved was still in the running for first—the position William had no doubt that Austin deserved.

 

“William can stay right where he is, since our second-place finishers are William and Austin Richards for having us all rocking to their ‘Fandango’ performance.” The roar from the audience was even louder as Austin stepped forward and stood next to his boyfriend. He accepted his certificate from Mr. Shepard and then he and William bowed deeply.

 

They walked back to the finalists’ line and Mr. Shepard turned to the audience. “And now it gives me great pleasure to announce the thirty-eighth winner of the Bainbridge Music Camp’s musical competition.”

 

A couple of campers interrupted by shouting out, “Austin!”, which generated some scattered applause.

 

“The winner for his gorgeous playing of Spanish Dance number two, the ‘Oriental’ by Enrique Granados is Austin Richards.” Austin’s name was drowned out by the roar of the crowd, but everyone knew who the winner was. The shout of “I love you Austin” was not drowned out as Austin accepted his certificate.

 

“Now, if I may have your attention, please,” the director said into the microphone. He held up his left hand and the audience calmed down. “It is a tradition for the winner to say a few words, so if you would kindly give him your attention.”

 

With the help of William, Austin had his words prepared, but that didn’t stop him from being nervous. For Austin, playing the “Waldstein” Sonata seemed less daunting than saying a few words to the full auditorium. He focused on his fellow campers, since he knew so many of them and knew they weren’t going to be judging him like he feared the adults would.

 

“Thank you everybody in the camp. You were a great audience and your cheering for me during camp helped my playing. Thank you to my roommate, William, who told me what to expect during the competition. My mom and my piano teacher, Mr. Fielding, taught me so much before I came here to camp, but the camp staff and Mr. Delacroix, my master teacher, helped me learn so much more. And a super thank you to my awesome friends in the Young Master Musicians who helped make camp extra fun. And you know what? All five of us made it to the finals. Give everybody a wave.” Pointing them out and having them wave was an impromptu act and was appreciated by his best friends ever. They waved and the audience cheered.  Austin bowed and stepped back, causing the audience to give him another standing ovation. He couldn’t help but smile when he heard the familiar girl’s voice yell out, “We ALL love you, Austin!”

 

The eight musicians left the stage and waited backstage for the audience to thin out. When Mr. Shepard told them the auditorium looked reasonably safe, the musicians went onto the stage and walked down the steps to the floor. The first person to approach Austin was his mother, who was crying tears of joy as she hugged her younger son.

 

“I’m so proud of you, Austin. So very proud of you.” Austin fought back his own tears as he returned his mother’s hug. The next hug was from his brother, followed by a handshake and then a surprise hug from Josh Fielding.

 

“You were amazing, son, absolutely, totally amazing. I’m proud to be your teacher.” What Josh Fielding didn’t tell Austin was that he had always known he had a great deal of talent, he hadn’t realized just how much. He had no doubt that the camp environment, the competition, and the master teaching of Gene Delacroix were all huge factors in his pupil’s astonishing success. He couldn’t help but wonder if he had anything left to offer his star student. He needn’t have worried—Gene Delacroix gave Josh more credit for Austin’s success than Josh gave himself. Gene could see that Josh was an outstanding piano teacher and had a great deal more to offer Austin.

 

Austin accepted the congratulations of campers, strangers, staff members, friends, and of course long hugs from the other Young Masters. He knew that a big barbecue was being prepared for the campers and their families, along with the camp staff, as well as friends and community members who had purchased tickets in advance. The barbecue would be outdoors and informal with great food. It was his kind of function. Then that evening some of the staff members as well as local musicians would present a closing program.

 

And after the program? While Young Masters, friends like John, and brothers like James and Steve hadn’t discussed who they would be sleeping with their last night together, Austin knew he wanted his last night at camp to be with William. Period. As much as he loved his mates in the Master Musicians, it was his boyfriend who had helped guide him to winning the competition and who had gone from his enemy to his boyfriend that he wanted to be with.

 

Yes, he would practically be living with William during the Festival, but he would be seeing the Master Musicians then as well. He had a feeling that the time spent rehearsing for and performing in the Seattle Youth Music Festival was going to be fun beyond imagining along with being deadly serious.

 

Austin’s thoughts were interrupted by a tap on his left shoulder. He turned and saw William standing next to him. “A penny for your thoughts,” his boyfriend said.

 

“Oh, my thoughts are worth way more than that now that I’m a champion,” Austin responded.

 

“Don’t let it go to your head, Aussie.”

 

“I’ll be careful about that, Willie.”

 

“They’re supposed to start serving dinner in about an hour. Let’s take a walk up the hill and have some time alone.”

 

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

 

Austin reached out for William’s hand and was pleased when his teen boyfriend took it. They walked out of the auditorium hand-in-hand not caring who saw them.

 

When James saw how William was willing to hold hands in public at the end of the camp, he saw it as more evidence that William was sincere about his feeling for Austin. James then looked at his mother, who was studying her son walking out the front door holding hands with his roommate.

 

He wondered if that act of love between his brother and William might ruin all the good that had happened. But what he saw on his mother’s face was a smile. It was as if she wasn’t surprised and had seen exactly what she had hoped to see.

 

“I guess you know,” he whispered to his mother.

 

Valarie Richards looked at her older son. “A mother always knows, James.” She nodded and said again, “A mother always knows. I think he will be good for your brother.”

 

“I don’t think so,” James said.

 

“No? Why not?”

 

“Well mom, I think it’s because I KNOW he is good for my brother, just like my brother is good for William…his boyfriend.”

 

Next: Coda