“I thought…” My voice trails off, and I shake my head. “Never mind. Just ignore me. Pre-show jitters.”
I have no time to dwell on the mysterious flower delivery as the night ticks on. Before I know it, I’m waiting in the wings and getting a last-minute pep talk from Mr. Meyer. It’s a miracle hehasn’t had an aneurysm with how stressed he’s been. Luckily, it only happens once a year.
“On the third part, take it slow,” he instructs. “Don’t rush it. Remember what I taught you. Light touch. Feathery fingers. Then build up…”
“I’ve got it,” I say, although it doesn’t put him at ease.
“It’s time!” He shoves me through the curtains. “Go!”
The spotlights warm my skin as I stride across the stage. I scan the audience, picking Mia out in the crowd because of her neon top. I try to pretend I’m alone, but my father’s judgmental gaze still manages to burn into me. He’ll accept nothing less than perfection.
Once seated, I inhale deeply and stroke the familiar white keys. My mind gets transported to another place when I play. I forget about the people watching and travel to my private bubble. A safe place. The song, Moonlight Sonata, is sad. As I play, I make up stories in my head. With this one, I think about doomed lovers. They push and pull as the piece progresses, vying for each other’s attention. They resist and fight, but circumstances keep drawing them together, culminating in an explosive chorus. They’re not meant to be, yet they can’t be apart. No other love can compare, but they’re doomed.
I’m halfway through when the atmosphere changes. A stir in the audience causes people to shuffle and turn in their seats. I stay focused, closing my eyes and letting the music flow, but gasps and scathing whispers grow louder.
A bloodcurdling scream from the back brings me back to reality. A woman clambers onto her chair, almost tripping over her long skirt.
“Rats!” she screeches like a banshee, pointing at the floor. “There’s a rat!”
Chair legs squeal, while another whimper comes from the opposite end of the room.
“Another one!” someone else yells. “Look! There!”
“They’re everywhere,” another person says.
Light floods the auditorium, and I freeze in horror. An army of rats, at least fifty, make their way down the aisles. They scuttle under seats, their pink tails leaving a trail of destruction behind.
Complete chaos engulfs the hall. Women wail and hop on their heels, knocking into chairs as they jostle to the exit. Some lose their balance, toppling over in their bid to escape. Accompanying husbands in smartly dressed suits try to stay composed, but many faces have paled, and they charge for the doors, shoving anyone who stands in their path.
Mr. Meyer runs onto the stage and grabs the microphone. “Everyone, if you’ll please stay calm…”
“Calm?” A college scout in the front row scoffs. “This school is overridden with vermin!”
A large man next to him stumbles. To catch his fall, he grabs a handful of the red curtains around the stage. The fabric can’t hold his weight. It tears with an almighty rip all the way up to the ceiling until it detaches. The thick velvet falls and buries people beneath it with the rats. They fight their way out quickly, but a woman insists her ankle was bitten.
“I…” Mr. Meyer stammers. “I don’t understand. How is this possible?”
I look past the hysterical hordes and see a figure dressed in black at the back of the room. They stand frozen in place, a black mask covering their face. Dread settles in the pit of my stomach, and all of my instincts scream that danger is here. As soon as I blink again, the figure vanishes, leaving me questioning if they were ever there at all.
“Get up, Erin.” Mr. Meyer takes my arm and heaves me from my seat. “We need to leave.”
My parents are waiting outside the auditorium. Thankfully, neither of them has been mauled by furry concert crashers.
“Is this what you call a show, Meyer?” Dad snarls in accusation. “My daughter’s performance was ruined.”
“I…” My poor teacher’s shoulders slouch. “I don’t know what happened.”
“The board will discuss this,” Dad warns. “We’re leaving, Erin.”
Dad storms off, and Mom puts a gentle arm around my shoulders to lead me away. I smile apologetically at Mr. Meyer. Whatever happened here wasn’t his fault.
“Rats,” Mom whispers scathingly. “Can you believe it? I’m sorry about your show, honey. For what it’s worth, you were brilliant.”
“Thanks,” I reply, although no one will remember my piece after what came after.
“Would you like to go out for dinner?” she asks. “We can try the new Italian everyone’s talking about?”
“Can we just go home?” I sigh. “I’m not that hungry anymore.”
