As they walked up to the stage to announce our act, I felt my hands start to shake. I could feel my face flushing a distinct tomato red.
I stumbled out of my seat, reluctantly walking up to the stage with my violin in one hand, my other hand clenched so hard my knuckles went white. Trembling, I placed my violin on my shoulder, ready to play.
The act began, our class beginning to awkwardly mutter some barely rehearsed song lyrics. My partner and I came in, me playing notes so out of tune they made my ears ring.
The entire audience stared at us, their facial expressions a mix of sympathy and bewilderment. I could hear my partner hitting every note perfectly, nothing fazing her.
The trombone blared in my ears, somewhat out of time by around 10 and a half bars I could taste the humiliation and slightly under-cooked pork in my mouth. My violin was shaking, every note trembling with pure embarrassment.
And then we got louder and more confident, I started to enjoy it. We were out there having a lot of fun, and that was great. The singers trailed off, laughing.
It was over, and we had enjoyed our first Riley House Dinner.
Matisse Fennessy (7R)