Chasing Butterflies Chapter 59: The Audition (Patreon)

Olivia sat beside Lance, her stiff posture completely at odds with his relaxed lounging. Her eyes darted around the room as she thought through her options.

The most straightforward path would’ve been to simply leave. To stand up, hole herself up in a practice room, and hide from Lance’s attempts to talk to her. But already two of the three were taken, one by another flute and another by a trumpet who seemed to live in the thing. Naomi was only a few feet away from the third, and she gave Olivia a slight smile and a nod before disappearing inside.

This is what I get for hesitating. Dangit, Olivia.

Even if one had been available, she wasn’t entirely certain whether it would’ve been an effective escape. What if Lance insisted that she stay? Or worse, tried to follow her? He clearly couldn’t take a hint, so it was a real possibility. She suppressed a shudder.

Leaving altogether was another option. Sure, she’d signed up to audition, and the guy undoubtedly had put two and two together to figure out why she was still here. But maybe that would work in her favor. Maybe that would be a direct enough hint to make him back off a bit.

…But probably not. He’s nothing if not persistent. Besides, I’m an adult woman. There’s no way I’m letting a tiny inconvenience like this completely upend all my plans. I’m better than that.

The whole situation felt more than a little absurd. With all of her experience, how in the world was she letting something as banal as a teenager’s unwanted advances get under her skin? Surely she should be able to handle this situation better.

Yet something about Lance made her feel as though she truly was that quiet, meek teenage girl again. As though she’d never grown up in the first place. It was a paralyzing feeling, and one she didn’t relish. Just one more reason to stay away from him.

It was ironic in a way. If she had dated the junior again, then maybe the timeline would’ve stayed intact for more than one reason. Maybe it would’ve helped her channel her old self in a way that she simply couldn’t manage anymore.

Still not worth it. Not in the slightest.

Lance fixed her with those emerald eyes, keeping her in place like a snake staring down prey. She remained quiet. If he wanted to talk, then that was fine. But she wouldn’t be giving him any help.

“So… Seems like you’ve got a lot of people talking about you, huh?”

She grimaced. Of course he would be the one to bring up the rumor again. “It seems that way.”

Dangit. Why am I being so passive? I should have asked him to leave, or just told him straight off.

He just chuckled. “It’s crazy what kinds of things people will say, huh? Not like I believe them. Don’t worry about that.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

He didn’t seem to pick up on the sarcasm. His grin widened. “Of course. C’mon, I’m an upperclassman. I’m supposed to look out for the little guy. Or girl. Freshies like you need someone in your corner.”

For some reason, the sentiment wasn’t nearly so reassuring coming from him as it had been from Luna. Especially given everything she knew about Lance. If he’d ever looked out for other freshmen, that would be one thing. But he didn’t. She was the only one he’d shown interest in. Moreover, he’d never so much as auditioned for a leadership role, even as a senior.

There was also the fact that he didn’t even know her. How, then, did he have any grounds to say whether the rumor was true or not? It was just a way to make himself sound good and get close to her at the same time.

One door swung open to reveal Alyssa’s round figure. The section leader strode inside confidently, glancing at the audition sign-up sheet as she passed and stopping mid-step. Her head whipped around the room until she was glaring at Olivia.

For once, Olivia honestly hoped the girl would come over. But no such luck. Alyssa made a point of ignoring Olivia as she retrieved her flute from a nearby locker before disappearing inside Mrs. V’s office for the audition. So much for that.

“Seriously, though,” Lance continued. “You ever need anything, just ask. Not all of us are the same.”

His eyes flicked toward the now-closed office door, obviously having noticed Olivia’s attention.

You can pick up on that, but not the fact that I clearly want to be left alone?

The words died in her throat. The idea of biting back with such venom felt completely impossible, even though it made no sense.

The next twenty minutes or so were… uncomfortable, to say the least. Lance tried to make small talk, probing about her classes and interests as Olivia worked to fend him off. The long-forgotten awkwardness she’d struggled to emulate returned in full force, and she barely had to try and pretend against this guy. It felt as though she were a shield bearer picking up her arms once again, wielding intentional misunderstandings and silence to deflect and divert the conversation.

Her standoffishness didn’t seem to dissuade him one bit. If anything, it just seemed to make him more determined. She saw the gleam in his eye as he continued to carry the conversation, as though her lack of contribution was no deterrent at all. Even when a practice room opened up and she made a few weak attempts to excuse herself, he simply turned it around to drag her back into a conversation about the audition itself or the show.

…What if he just thinks I’m being shy? Is that what’s going on?

She cast her thoughts back. It was impossible to remember that long ago with perfect clarity. And she was certain that time had worn down the rougher, more uncomfortable edges of her old self’s social skills. But she could certainly see how her original interactions with Lance might have played out similarly—even if for entirely different reasons.

Internally, she groaned. If that was the case, then this approach was doomed from the start. Likely he thought that he was doing her a favor by pressing on and carrying the conversation all by himself.

…I need to just tell him to leave. To go away and leave me alone.

And yet could she? She’d never been the most direct person. It had taken Jason a long, long time to get her to simply come out and say things without dancing around them in five different ways. Even before coming back in time, it was a habit that she found herself slipping back into if she wasn’t careful. The idea of simply coming out and saying something so rude was… Well, she wasn’t entirely certain if she could pull it off. And that wasn’t even considering the way Lance made her feel so small.

“Olivia?”

It was Mrs. V who finally saved her from her torment. The band teacher peeked her head out of her office as one of the junior flutes left, the girl’s expression tight and her shoulders just a bit more rounded than usual. The band room was practically empty by that point, with only a handful of other kids scattered around its edges.

Olivia shot to her feet perhaps a bit too quickly. Lance chuckled and stood as well. “Seems like I lost track of time. Well. It was fun talking to you. Hopefully you won’t be so hard to pin down next time.”

I sincerely hope that isn’t the case.

She nodded woodenly at the farewell and hurried toward Mrs. Villanueva. When the door clicked behind her, she finally let out a long sigh of relief.

Finally. I’m out of there.

“You know, you may be the first student I’ve ever seen to seem so relieved before the audition’s even begun.”

Olivia raised her eyes to find the elderly band teacher regarding her with obvious amusement. She sat upon a dusty rolling chair as ancient as she was, the creaky desk behind her piled high with neat stacks of papers and sheet music. The walls boasted even more paperwork, pinned there as though to prevent the old piece of wood from collapsing under its own weight.

Olivia blushed at herself. “Hah. Sorry about that. Just… was having trouble getting away, there.”

“Ah, was that Lance you were speaking to? He always has been a talker. I apologize if he kept you from practicing or otherwise preparing.”

Not what I meant, but that’s ok. It’s probably better that she misunderstands.

Mrs. V waved a hand. “Regardless. There is no need to apologize in the slightest. If anything, it’s a refreshing change.” The woman folded her hands in her lap. “Usually, I spend a minute or two reassuring students prior to their auditions. I am more than willing to do the same for you, of course. But I’m rather uncertain if that’s necessary.”

“No, it’s fine.” Olivia paused. “Actually… do you mind if I warm up for just a second?”

It had been quite a while since class ended. Between that and the situation she’d just escaped, Olivia felt as though she needed a significant mental reset before trying to go any further.

Mrs. V smiled. “Of course not. Take your time. You are the last student auditioning, after all.”

With a grateful nod, Olivia quickly ran through a handful of scales and exercises to get back into form. Once again, she rued her slowness. If she’d been just a bit faster, she could have spent this whole time practicing rather than getting caught up in Lance’s web. But there was no helping it. At least her inaction meant that the other flutes got a chance to warm up instead.

She felt the elderly teacher’s eyes on her as she played, studying her from behind amber-rimmed glasses. Olivia didn’t pay her any mind. She simply went through the motions as though her audience of one didn’t exist. Throughout her career, Mrs. V had undoubtedly heard plenty of worse and better playing both. So what was the use in getting in her own head about it?

When Olivia felt ready, she nodded. “Ok. Would you like me to start from the top?”

“Of the solo, yes.” Mrs. V replied. “Whenever you’re ready. Would you like a count off?”

“Sure.”

The woman raised one withered hand, her thumb and forefinger pinched together as though clutching an invisible baton.

“Five… Six…”

Her hand bounced a few times before transitioning into the smooth, flowing motions of a practiced conductor. Olivia took in one long breath, her lungs expanding to their limits as all her lessons flashed through her head.

The notes of the solo poured out of her like liquid mercury. They filled the small office, dampened by the poor acoustics yet still echoing back dully. She soared through the lines, closing her eyes slightly as she played.

When it came to flute, Naomi was the superior when it came to technique by a wide margin. Despite the surprising amount of experience Olivia retained after all this time, Naomi was a senior who’d been practicing actively for years. She’d reached heights that old Olivia had never neared, even as a senior. It was no wonder that she’d gone on to pursue music as a professional career.

But there was one thing that Olivia did have over the senior. Style. Naomi played well, but her style remained as proper and reserved as the girl herself. Beautiful, but formal.

Olivia, though? She had a whole lifetime of experience to draw on. She had experienced highs and lows that most teenagers could hardly fathom, seen true joy and pain past the overinflated emotions that hormones foisted upon them. And she leveraged that experience to its fullest.

The second movement’s theme was change, both positive and negative. And boy, did Olivia know change.

The music swelled as Olivia channeled her strongest memories into it. The day Jason had proposed to her. Their wedding. Those first few life-changing weeks after George’s birth. Deciding to leave her job for good and look after her family full-time. And, of course, the feeling of her world falling out beneath her as she realized that her old life had been torn away. All of it pooled together to fill Metamorphosis’s second movement with all the uncertainty, excitement, and fear that she’d experienced throughout her two lives.

Every time she played, she worked to stretch the written instructions to their limits, injecting as much emotion and dynamic movement as she could get away with. Of course, she made sure that her efforts still blended with the rest of the band. She wasn’t going to sabotage everyone else or show off just to have her own fun. But in a solo like this? She could truly go all out.

Olivia continued to wind through the refrains of the solo. She didn’t worry about whether her performance would prove superior to her mentor’s. She knew it wouldn’t. Instead, she simply played.

It was over all too soon. The last note faded abruptly into the carpet and paper-covered office. Olivia lowered her flute and opened her eyes to see Mrs. V’s eyes sparkling. Then, the woman began to clap.

“Excellent work, Olivia. Excellent indeed. Were this a true performance, I would give you a standing ovation.”

Olivia blushed, some of the awkwardness that she’d managed to avoid thus far rushing back at the praise. “Thank you. I’m glad you liked it.”

“I did indeed. You have truly come into your own as a remarkable musician, and so quickly too. This decision will be more difficult than I anticipated, truly.”