Crossroads

Lalin weaved her way towards the exit as the hallway throbbed with the restless pulse of midmorning, a river of students rushing around her. Shouts of laughter and the squeak of rubber soles on tile blended with the metallic echoes of lockers clanging shut and rebounding off the walls. The smell of floor polish was strong in the air, and it was mingled with the stale warmth of too many bodies too close together. In order to avoid the looks that still lingered from her last performance—a stumble, a freeze, a memory she couldn't get rid of—Lalin gripped her books more tightly, her shoulders bent against the flow, and her eyes following the cracks in the floor.

She was startled out of her reverie by a startling flurry of movement. Student voices rose in a wave of enthusiasm as they gathered around the bulletin board. A neon-yellow flyer was shoved into her path by a hand before she could change her course. A girl said, "Talent show sign-ups start today!" with such excitement that it irritated Lalin. Showcase Your Talent! was printed boldly on the paper, which felt fragile in her hands. Her chest tightened as though the words were pushing down on her, and her fingers clenched, pinching the edges.

With a whispered "thank you," she backed away as the crowd's clamour subsided into a monotonous rumble. She caught a glimpse of Mina beside the water fountain halfway down the hallway, talking to Chai with her head cocked. Guilt twisting in her stomach, Lalin's steps faltered. The fact that she hadn't told anyone about the violin lessons, including Mina, weighed heavily on her conscience and made her want to talk. Any explanation would be exposed by Mina's keen eyes, and Chai's subdued worry would further exacerbate the situation. Before they could see her, Lalin turned abruptly and slipped through a side door, the flyer still clenched in her hand like a charge.

The chilly air in the music room, which smelt of rosin and polished wood, was a haven of peace. Long shadows stretched across the rows of chairs and the upright piano in the corner as sunlight fell through the tall windows. With his violin resting on his knee and his fingers aimlessly touching the strings, Kiet sat close to the rear. As Lalin walked in, he looked up, his face softening. He said, "Hey," in a steady, low voice. "Thought you might be late today."

A small thud echoed when she dumped her suitcase near the door. "It was almost. There is anarchy everywhere.

He watched as she took her violin out of its case and nodded. "Something new going on?"

Lalin avoided looking at him and paused before placing the device on her shoulder. "The talent show was announced. Everyone is going crazy over it.

Her palm trembled just enough to betray her, yet the note came out shrill as she pulled the bow across the strings. She muttered a curse as she bent to retrieve the bow from the floor when it slipped and skittered off the bridge. Feeling Kiet's gaze on her, she straightened, her cheeks burning.

He remarked, "You're off today," without asking a question. "More than usual."

She murmured, "It's nothing," but even she saw the untruth to be flimsy. She inhaled and exhaled gradually. "The talent show. After the last time, they expect me to dance once more.

Kiet leaned forward a little and put down his violin. "And you're not sure you want to."

Startled by the comprehension in his eyes, she looked him in the eye. "I'm not sure whether I can. Not after that kind of freezing. Everyone observed.

His pause was contemplative rather than critical as he gave her some thought. "There's always an alternative. Something where there are others up there besides you."

Lalin scowled as she gripped the bow more tightly. "What, like a group routine?"

"Or something else." His tone was cautious as he stopped. like dancing and listening to music. A duet.

She gasped, the concept reverberating through her mind like a stone in still water. "You mean… with you?"

With a slight smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth, Kiet shrugged. "Maybe. It might be simpler if the focus is divided.

She looked for a flicker of doubt in his dark eyes, but all she saw was quiet determination. Would you actually do that? Come out with me on a stage?"

He said, "It's not my usual thing," in a dry voice. However, I believe we could succeed. Something to behold."

Between them hovered the possibility, brittle but alluring. Lalin's thoughts were racing—Kiet's solid hand at her side, the violin slicing through her steps, the shared burden of the limelight. However, the worry persisted, a shadow at the periphery. "I'm not sure. It's something I've never attempted.

Simply, "Neither have I," he said. "Doesn't mean we can't."

She tightened her throat and swallowed. "Let me think about it."

He picked up his violin once more and nodded. "Take your time."

Lalin's concentration was waning as the class staggered along. Her hands felt awkward as she struck the notes, and her mind was clouded by the prospect of the duet. What would it be like to move to the music of Kiet? Would she be able to rely on him—on herself—to sustain half the performance? The crowd's quiet overshadowed any applause as the memories of her most recent failure loomed big. But beneath that, a glimmer of interest awoke. A duet may make all the difference, or it could make them both fail.

Kiet's words cut through her slumber as they packed up. "You know, you're still getting better. even if your mind is elsewhere."

As she zipped her suitcase closed, she forced a half smile. "Guess I've got a patient teacher."

"Or a hardheaded student," he shot back, his smile fleeting but genuine.

The tightness eased just enough for Lalin to breathe, and she chuckled in spite of herself. With the flier crinkling inside, she threw her purse over her shoulder and made her way to the door.

When she arrived, the dancing studio was deserted, the late afternoon light mutedly reflected off the mirrored walls. As she dropped her luggage and entered the centre, the floor shined beneath her bare feet and felt cold. She looked at her reflection in the glass, a dark shape of stiff shoulders and doubtful eyes.

She shut them, allowing silence to descend upon her. The stage began to take shape in her mind: the murmur of expectation, the flash of lights. This time, however, Kiet was standing behind her, a tune lifted by his violin encircling her like a lifeline. Her body swayed to a fictitious rhythm as she took a step forward, her arms rising in a leisurely arc. Her feet traced patterns she hadn't dared since the autumn, and the movement seemed timid at first, then stronger.

The air brushed her skin as she twirled, and the anxiety briefly subsided. She could practically hear the harmony created by trust as the violin's sound blended with her own. She looked into the mirror as she opened her eyes. With a hint of something fresh glimmering in her eyes, the girl who was staring back appeared less terrified.

Still, it wasn't a yes. However, it was a maybe, and that was sufficient for the time being.