Page 3 of The Night the Stars Went Dark

“Horns.” I nodded, proud of myself.

“What else?”

I listened. I wanted to be right. “Crickets. Leaves rustling in the trees.” I paused. “I can hear water from the drains in the road.”

“See? Music.” Dad patted my knee, and I opened my eyes. “There’s always music, you just have to listen for it.” He smiled softly as I licked at my cone.

“I like the music you play better.” I grinned as I watched Daddy stand up.

“Sometimes I do too, but I always like to listen to what’s around me. Come on. Mommy’s going to worry if we don’t get home soon.” He held his hand out for me to take.

We walked back the way we came, and I licked away at my cone. The sounds of the city seemed clearer, and I started trying to hear different sounds. I wanted to appreciate it like Daddy did. I wanted the city to play for me like it did my dad.

Chapter 2

Aspen- age 8

“Have you practiced yet?” Mom stuck her head out from the kitchen. “You know your father will be disappointed if you haven’t worked on that piece.” She wiped her hands on a towel as she moved into the living room. I sighed as I stood from the couch where I’d been reading. It was a rainy day, the perfect kind of day to curl up with a book.

“I will. I just wanted to finish this first.” I frowned as I set the book aside and slowly made my way to the piano. I stared at the sheet music that was haphazardly askew on the stand. I’d been trying to learn this piece for the last month. Dad had signed me up for a music camp this summer, and the audition piece was hard.

“If you want to be the best, you’ve got to give it your all every day.” She smiled as I sat down. She knew she’d won this battle. I wanted to be the best. I wanted to play Carnegie Hall one day, and this camp was the first step to getting there.

I slipped onto the bench and stretched. I popped my fingers, something my parents hated, and straightened the music. I positioned my hands over the keys, and slowly began to work my way through the first page. I had the melody down, but there were still chords that I was having trouble with. Part of it was the fact that my hands were child-size and some of these keys were impossible to reach. My pinky just didn’t stretch as far as I needed it to, and I wasn’t sure there was a way to change that other than waiting to grow a little. Mom grinned from the doorway as she watched me stumble through the piece. “You sound great. Keep working at it.” She turned to go back to her baking.

I twisted my lips in frustration as my fingers stumbled over the ending. I’d been trying to nail this for the past three days. “Grrr!” I pounded the keys. “I’m never gonna get this.” I tossed my head back, eyes closed, and growled again.

“Not with that attitude.” My father’s voice sounded from behind me.

My eyes flew open and I turned his way with a guilty look on my face. “Sorry, Dad. This is just…” I pounded the keys again. “Too hard.”

“It just takes practice.” He smiled. “Keep at it. You’ll get it.”

It took me a week to finally ‘get it’, but I did. It was a warm afternoon when Dad came home that week, and as he stepped into the living room, I filled it with beautiful music. My hands danced over the keys, and the light airy melody floated through the air. Mom was leaning against the doorway listening, and Dad nodded in appreciation for my hard work.

“I did it.” I grinned as I fist pumped the air.

“Yes, you did.” Dad strode over and stopped right behind me. “I think this audition is going to be only the beginning.”

“The beginning?” I furrowed my brow as I looked up at him.

“The beginning of your future. You have a gift Penny, and I intend to make sure you use it.” He patted my shoulder before turning to riffle through a folder on the bookcase nearby. It took him a minute, but he produced a piece of paper. “This will be next.” He moved closer and handed it to me.

My eyes went wide. “Dad…” I swallowed as I looked at the piece he handed me. The measures were filled with running eighth notes and the key had five sharps.

“Don’t tell me you can’t. You can, it just requires practice.” He handed me the piece.

“But what if I can’t?” I stared at it, the notes blurring together, the idea of trying to play it causing me to spin out in my head.

“You’re supposed to challenge yourself at camp. When you get in, this will be your recital piece.” He said it so matter-of-factly that I knew he meant business. This wasn’t a suggestion or a ‘try it and we’ll see’. This was a ‘you’re going to learn this because I know you can’ type look.

“Yes, sir.” I took the music and tucked it into my bag. I was auditioning tomorrow, and I needed to have the piece I wanted to master with me for approval.

I stood in the living room, rocking on my toes, music bag in hand. My tummy felt as if it were in my throat, and it must have been a million degrees in the house. School was ending in another week for summer break, and if I got into this camp, I’d be spending a month in New York City.

“Ready?” Dad came down the stairs and paused to look at me.

“If I said no, would I get in trouble?” I half-smiled to cover my nervousness.

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