Fever Pitch by Heidi Cullinan

heard you audition last May, and I’ve heard you practice in sectionals and on your own. You’re exactly what we look for in the chamber orchestra.”
    The idea that all those times he’d been practicing were auditions freaked Giles out. “But I’m not a music major.”
    â€œThere’s no such requirement. Did you not know your section leader is pre-med?”
    Giles did, but Karen Stacy was her own level of overachievement. “I just don’t think I’m quite what maybe you think I am.”
    Allison raised a wooly white eyebrow. “I don’t think so. I think you’ll start practicing tonight, and when Karen sets up special practice sessions for you, you’ll attend. Though if you’re worried, I have a few lesson spots open. I was surprised you hadn’t signed up yet.”
    Now Giles felt guilty. “I—I meant to. It’s not that I don’t take it seriously…”
    Giles fully expected Allison to be disappointed in him, but the conductor only continued to appear amused. “No, you’re simply human. I understand. Of course, it’s perfectly acceptable for you to decline the advanced placement orchestras and continue as you are. I chose you because you strike me as a talented young man who enjoys music—and perhaps was in the need of a greater challenge.”
    â€œI don’t want to decline. I’m…honored. Thank you. And if there’s lesson space, yes, I’d love it.”
    He did work his tail off. “Canon in D” he’d played so many times he could perform it drunk—the song was apparently a Saint Timothy staple, and alumni were allowed to join the current members and play along. But the rest of the music he had to learn put him through his paces, and between the two orchestras Giles had eight pieces of music to learn. With his quartet group the total was nine. He practically lived in the music building now, hovering outside his reserved practice room for his chance to rehearse, going over fingerings as he zoned out during Intro to Psychology, tapping out rhythms on his plastic tray in the cafeteria line.
    He was so busy he didn’t have time to obsess about Aaron Seavers and his adoring throng, though he did occasionally note how nobody hosted parades for violin virtuosos unless they looked like Joshua Bell. The ones with big ears they worked to death.
    â€œIt’s going to kill me,” he complained to Brian after returning from a grueling sectional and quartet rehearsal. He collapsed onto his bed and stared up at the ceiling in a daze. “They’re all so good. I have no idea what I’m doing there.”
    â€œI bet you’re fine.” Brian tossed him their communal bag of Twizzlers Nibs.
    Giles pulled out a handful of candy and put it mindlessly into his mouth. It tasted like tangy wax, but as soon as the sugar burned into his bloodstream, he didn’t care. “These groups are a lot smaller. I can’t drop out and let the others cover me on a rough patch.”
    They ate more candy as the main-menu music for Halo 2 played in the background.
    Brian broke the silence. “The weird thing is, as stressed out as you are, I don’t think I’ve seen you this happy before.”
    Giles thought about that for a minute and laughed. “You’re right.”
    Brian picked up his controller and scrolled mindlessly through the menu options. “It’s too bad you don’t want to major in music.”
    â€œThere are no jobs. The three majors are music ed, music therapy and music performance. I don’t want to teach, and I don’t think I’m zealous enough for performance. Plus, they all starve or play street corners.” He popped more Nibs. “I’ve half-considered music therapy, but I’m already too late.”
    â€œWhat’s music therapy, and how are you late? We’re only in the first semester of