Apparently, I screwed up big. I can't be sure how, but on Monday, I got a nasty phone message from Reily, and Xoi wouldn't speak to me. It was really all Adam's fault. He had told Evan, who was looking for me, the wrong address, so when the rock star showed up at an old woman's house, demanding my presence, they assumed I was to blame. Grated, I hated that guy and wanted him dead, but I was with them at the party at the time, and everything was spun out of proportion by Evan.

So, shunned my my female friends and laughed at by my male ones for being worried about how they felt about me, I found a secluded place (a gazebo a little ways away from the main building) and played my violin.

Sure enough, my hollow notes were soon accompanied by another violin, creating perfect harmony with my sad concerto. When the second movement came, rougher and more aggressive than the first, our bows became fencing swords and we fought for dominance over the music. The song resolved into an echo of the first movement, and, gracefully, the Second Violin and I brought it to a close.

I couldn't resist turning around--for the Second Violin sounded so near--to see a boy in Lakewood attire and an venetian mask lowering his violin. Our eyes met through the holes his mask and we stood, suspended in our own moment in time.

"Hello." I said nervously.

The Second Violin nodded. "Hello, young lady."

"What!" I exclaimed. "I'm a dude."

The boy shook his head, and the bells at the ends of his mask jingled.

The mask itself was a beauty, with a sort of jester-style flair. It was red and gold, with parchment sheet music incorporated around the left eye and up by the bells. I searched the Internet for some masks that resemble it, and the closest I could get was the one at http://www.maskitalia.com/michela.htm (its on the second page) but it still isn't the same. The Second Violin's mask looked more....expensive.

"What are you going to do about it?" I asked him.

He shrugged. "Nothing, I suppose. It is nice to have another to play with. Everyone else practices inside"

"How did you know I'm a girl?" I demanded.

He shrugged again, his movements accented by the tinkling of his bells. "You play like one."

I guess that made some sense. I pondered what to do next when the Second Violin spoke up, "Shall we?" He rested his violin against his shoulder.

We played instead of talking. He was far better than I was, but made allowance for my mistakes and blunders with his impressive skill. When we were finished with a duet by Beethoven, I was left in the gazebo with the sole thought: So this is what feelings sound like?

Who knew I went to a school with a masked, violin wielding artist?