The Violin Conspiracy(14)

“I think I missed the cutoff for the winter GED,” he lied. “I can check, though.”

“After Christmas you’re going to have to start helping with the rent and the rest of the bills.” She opened a cabinet door, stared at a row of cereal and pasta boxes, closed it.

He set down his phone, actually looked at her. She was serious. Terror started out as a small nugget in his chest, quickly grew fingers, tightened like a hand around his heart. “You said before that I’d pay rent when I graduated.”

“I changed my mind,” she said. “Ricky’s already paying rent and they just got a new sixty-inch.”

“So you want me to get a GED so you can get a bigger TV? Is that what this is about?” Regional orchestra auditions were in January, and Ray really wanted to try out. If he graduated in December, he wouldn’t have the chance. It was a long shot to get in, but he’d spent the summer practicing and he desperately wanted to try out. Only the top players in the state were chosen, and if he got in he would be able to perform high-level music he’d probably never have another opportunity to play once he graduated and got a real job.

“This is about you doing what I say and getting a damn job,” she said. She crossed back, opened the refrigerator, stared into it like she was reading his fortune in the packed shelves. “You could have been making good money at Popeyes by now.”

“I don’t want to work at Popeyes. Or in the hospital cafeteria.”

“I didn’t ask you what you wanted.” She pulled out a liter of soda. “I told you to get a real paying job, you hear? You had plenty of time to find another one by now. You better have a job by Thanksgiving.” His part-time job at the construction site ended next month. She poured herself a glass of soda.

“I’ll find something,” he said. “Maybe the grocery store?”

“You need to go ahead and apply,” she said. “And go check about getting your GED.” She took her soda back to the living room, where she and the twins were watching TV. The twins, who had just celebrated their eighth birthdays, were—like his mom—addicted to Family Feud.

Ray put in both earbuds, turned Vivaldi’s L’Inverno up as loud as it would go, pressed play. He would ignore everything except the music. Hopefully his mom would forget about the GED by the end of the weekend, but that wasn’t likely—once his mom got an idea in her head, there was no shaking her. She wanted that sixty-inch.

He’d apply to the grocery store on Monday, after school. The hours were pretty much the same as the construction site, plus it was indoors. Satisfied that he had a workable plan, he spent the rest of the weekend focusing on playing L’Inverno on his school violin and playing a new video game on the PlayStation 5 his grandma Nora had given him last Christmas.

But that Monday in orchestra class, Ray’s buddy Aiden changed everything. Before class started, Aiden sat down two seats over from him, leaned in, and asked, “What’re you doing this weekend?” They’d become casual friends the year before, eating lunch together and playing duets sometimes at Aiden’s house. If Ray ever needed to borrow rosin or an extra string, Aiden was the only one who would offer. Aiden was tall and slim, with long black hair that he was constantly brushing out of his eyes. He was one of a handful of Asian kids in orchestra.

“Not much. Studying. Chillin’. Can I borrow your rosin?” Ray asked.

Aiden handed it over. Ray unscrewed the lid, applied the rosin to the bow hair with long slow strokes.

“I got asked to play a wedding on Saturday,” Aiden said. “The other violinist just backed out. You want to take his place? It’s two-hundred bucks.”

For a moment Ray couldn’t breathe. “Are you serious? Quit fucking with me, dude.”

Aiden laughed. “I’m dead serious. We need another violin. It’s an outdoor wedding. We get to stay for the reception. Free food. Want to do it?”

“Fuck yeah, I do!” Ray calculated. Two hundred dollars was like twenty-five hours of minimum wage at the construction site or bagging groceries. Two and a half weeks of work.

“Good,” Aiden said. “I’ll get you the music after class.”

Wait till his mother heard! She called his music “noise,” but once she heard how much money he could make, she’d change her tune. No need to bag groceries. If he could get a regular gig playing music, he’d be golden.

At the end of class, when Aiden handed him the music, Ray said as casually as he could, “You have any more gigs lined up you might need me for?”

“Yeah, we do a few a month. Don’t you have a job, though?”

“It’s ending in November,” Ray said. “I would love to play with you guys. Who was the other violinist?”

“It’s Chad Horner, you know him? Graduated last year. He’s a flake. This is the third gig he’s bailed on. I should have asked you earlier, it’s just you’re always working.”

Ray didn’t want to sound desperate. “I’m usually free most weekends.”

“Awesome,” Aiden said. “Let’s see how this weekend goes. If it’s good, you’re in.”

When Ray got home that evening, he immediately hunted down his mother, who was in her bedroom, lying back against the pillows, flipping through Essence magazine, phone tucked almost invisibly beneath her jaw. “Hold on,” she said into the phone. “What is it?” she said to Ray.