Later, at home, the Alden children sat around the kitchen table drinking hot chocolate. Soo Lee, who was staying overnight, was with them.
“That was a great party,” Jessie said.
“The food was super,” Benny said. “Too bad there’s none left. The jelly sandwiches were the best.”
“I liked meeting the musicians,” Violet put in. “Especially Melody.”
“She’s nice,” Soo Lee said. “I can’t wait to hear her play her violin.”
“You won’t have a long wait, Soo Lee,” Henry said. “Tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the orchestra’s rehearsal.”
“You know what I don’t get,” Benny said. “Melody said she had to go practice.”
“All musicians practice, Benny,” Jessie said. “You know that.”
“But what’s rehearsal?” Benny asked.
“Practice,” Henry answered.
“So musicians practice for the practice,” Benny said.
Henry laughed. “It looks that way,” he said.
Violet disagreed. “Musicians practice for themselves,” she said. “To get better.”
“It works, too,” Jessie said. “Violet’s a perfect example.”
“I wish I could play as well as Violet,” Soo Lee said.
“You will,” Jessie assured her. “It takes time.”
“And practice,” Benny added. He poured himself more hot chocolate. “I have another question,” he said. “How does Victor Perrelli practice?”
They were all silent, thinking.
Finally, Violet said, “A conductor listens to music and thinks about it. That’s a way of practicing.”
“What about Mozart?” Soo Lee asked. “How did he practice?”
“His father was a music teacher,” Violet told her. “He learned to play early.”
“But writing music isn’t the same as playing it,” Benny said.
“It’s like a language,” Henry explained. “You hear it first. Then you learn to speak it. Finally, you learn to write it. And the more you write it, the better you get.”
Soo Lee understood that. Her first language was Korean. She had learned to speak English at the orphanage. Only now was she learning to write it well. She sighed. “Everything takes practice,” she said.
Watch sidled over and put his paw in Jessie’s lap. He looked up at her and softly whined.
“It must be suppertime,” Jessie said, and looked at the clock. Sure enough, it was nearly six. “I’ll go boil some water for spaghetti.”
Mrs. McGregor, the Aldens’ housekeeper, was on vacation, so the children were doing their own cooking.
Henry groaned. “Who can eat after all that party food?” he said.
Benny popped to his feet. “I can!” he answered.
“Now I know why Benny’s such a good eater,” Violet said. “He gets so much practice.”
Next morning, Benny and Soo Lee were the first ones out the door. They were anxious to get to the Civic Center to hear the orchestra rehearse. Now that they knew some of the musicians, it would be a special treat to see and hear them play.
At the corner, Benny saw the bus coming. He waved to the others, urging them to hurry.
They picked up their pace, arriving just as the bus pulled in and stopped. The five Aldens piled on.
“The workshops begin after the rehearsal,” Jessie reminded them, when they had taken their seats.
“I’m taking Make Your Own Instruments,” Benny said.
“I’d like to take Music Appreciation,” Soo Lee said.
“I’m going to all the rehearsals,” Jessie said.
“We can go to all the workshops and still hear the rehearsals,” Henry told them. “Each one is at a different time.”
Violet was silent, thinking about the week ahead. On Saturday afternoon, there would be a special children’s performance. She hoped to be chosen as a violinist, but she was afraid to mention it. It seemed like an impossible dream. Still, it might come true. She had wished that one of the musicians would ask to hear her play. That had come true. She wondered when she’d have a chance to play for Melody.
“Civic Center,” the bus driver announced.
Saying, “Thank you,” the Aldens hopped off the bus. They raced each other to the Center’s big front doors.
The lobby was full of people. Everyone seemed to be in a panic. Orchestra members stood around in small groups talking excitedly. Victor Perrelli paced the floor murmuring to himself. Melody followed a few steps behind. They couldn’t hear what she was saying to Victor, but they could tell she was upset.
Janet Muller stood near them. “I was afraid of something like this,” she said.
“What is it?” Jessie asked. “What’s happened?”
“The Mozart score,” she answered. “It’s been stolen!” |