Light From Uncommon Stars(59)

So it was true.

“Who is it? Someone from Kilbourne?”

Ellen steeled herself for his answer. Perhaps Ellen had failed her student. Or maybe the Queen of Hell wanted someone more seasoned? More mature?

But Landon Fung shook his head.

“No. Not at all. Because here’s where it gets peculiar. From what Tiffany heard, this student has never had proper training.”

“What?”

“Tiffany was positive that she’d heard correctly. Shizuka Satomi said her student has no classical training. She’s having issues with double stops. And she plays gaming music.”

Ellen’s jaw dropped.

“Is this some sort of joke?”

“It must have gotten boring in Hell,” Landon surmised.

Ellen Seidel poured her seventh coffee. That explained the lack of publicity. But regardless of Shizuka Satomi’s inexplicable choice, official news of this student would not be secret for long, and once Tamiko found out, she wouldn’t be cutting her forearms—she’d be slitting her wrists.

But maybe that inexplicable choice was exactly what Tamiko needed to see.

“Landon, it’s Kiana Choi that Tamiko is after. Not Shizuka Satomi. If Tamiko can see that Shizuka’s lost the desire or ability to teach at the top level, then she becomes irrelevant. And then Tamiko can move on without her.”

Shizuka Satomi was not Tamiko’s only option. There was Kilbourne, Juilliard, or the Curtis Institute. And there was Plisetskaya.

Landon Fung nodded. “Yes, I think that might work.”

“So I can count on your help?”

“Of course!”

“So, shall we?”

“Shall we what?”

“Why, Landon Fung, aren’t you part of the Temple City Chamber of Commerce?”



* * *



“Astrid, have you heard of the Camellia Music Culture Society?”

Astrid shook her head.

Shizuka looked up from the letter she was reading. “It would seem this year they are hosting the ‘Classically Camellia Music Showcase—A Sharing Of The Wonderful Young Classical Musicians In Our Neighborhood.’ And, they are inviting the legendary Shizuka Satomi’s newest student to participate in the event.”

Shizuka continued reading. It would be held at Temple City Park, in the Performing Arts Pavilion as part of Temple City’s Camellia Festival—Temple City’s answer to Sierra Madre’s Wistaria Festival and Monrovia’s Family Street Fair.

“What do you think this is all about?” asked Astrid.

“Camellias. I am sure it is all about camellias.”

How did they know about her student? Grunfeld’s? No, she had taken care of that. Tremon? No, this was not Tremon’s style—if this had been Tremon Philippe’s doing, it would have been a glamorous event at a concert hall, not a “Camellia Festival” in a city park.

Shizuka sighed.

Those musician kids at Kim Ky noodle house. Lan being Lan. Of course that afternoon would come back to haunt her.

Well, what was done was done.

Still … Camellia Festival? You want me to introduce my student there? You are attempting to summon the Queen of Hell—at least show a little effort.

She was about to toss the letter when her phone chimed. Shizuka glanced at the message.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she muttered.

“Miss Satomi?”

“It’s a thank-you from Lan. The Camellia Music Society is hiring Starrgate to provide donuts for the entire event … because of Shizuka Satomi’s heartfelt recommendation.”

“Miss Satomi?”

“Well, I suppose that counts as a little effort.”

Shizuka read the letter once more. It was crazy, but the more she thought about the showcase, the less she disliked it. This was not a competition, which meant no self-important judges, mandatory pieces, or vomiting in the bathroom. And Katrina would gain valuable performing experience.

“At the very least, we can enjoy the weather. And there will be donuts.”

“You’re accepting?”

“If they want to hear my student that badly, then why not? And besides, perhaps it’s time that Katrina gets her first taste of blood.”



* * *



“But you promised that I did not have to compete,” Katrina said nervously.

“This isn’t a competition. It’s just a showcase. No pressure. You can just play the music you’ve been working on.”

Katrina sat down. She buried her head into her knees and began to rock back and forth.

Now what? Why should Katrina be scared of a showcase? Wasn’t she posting videos on the Internet? Wasn’t she thrilled when she got more views? Why wouldn’t any musician want to share their music?

Shizuka caught herself. No. Being upset would only make things worse.

“Katrina. I’m listening.”

For a long time, there was nothing.

And then, slowly, Katrina told Shizuka how ugly she felt when she was ignored at Grunfeld’s. Bit by bit, she admitted how hurt she was when Lucía Matía had called her a boy. She talked of listening to the sneers of people on the sidewalk, the horrible words spoken both loudly and under breath.

She talked of listening, always listening, for the next possible attack, of trying to slouch as she walked in public, or that time after church when her uncle held her down and kissed her while saying please don’t give him AIDS and that God thought she was a filthy whore.