Octavia was in math class when she got the text. Her phone chimed in her purse, only loud enough for her to hear. A quick glance- yes, it was from Vinyl Scratch.
Honestly, did the girl expect the school to simply hand her a diploma? She skipped classes, whole days even, far too often. Usually to lounge about the music store in town. They always allowed her to operate the register, though she didn't even work there.
Her phone chimed again, with a picture message. Loyalty to her friend outweighed Octavia's desire to follow the rules, and she discreetly opened the first message. It was only four words and an exclamation mark. The letters were all capitalized. The entire sentence was bold faced.
GET DOWN HERE NOW!
Octavia frowned. Vinyl often invited her to accompany her shenanigans. Octavia would always refuse, and she knew it. Why would Vinyl think this day would be different?
Octavia opened the second message.
And immediately froze up. Her eyes felt like they were about to pop from their sockets. Her cheeks flushed. Either her hand was shaking or the school was experiencing an earthquake. Since none of the other students were running around screaming, she guessed the first. Octavia swallowed.
Of its own accord, her hand started to rise. Thankfully her brain overrode it and she dropped the phone back in her purse. Then her hand shot to the ceiling.
"Not feeling well, use restroom?"
Miss Cheerilee glanced only briefly at her reddened face and odd expression. No teacher wanted to chance dealing with vomit.
"Go ahead, then see the nurse."
Octavia shot from her seat to the door. From the door, she veered left towards the back of the school, and the parking lot. The route was less likely to be noticed by Principal Celestia or Vice Principal Luna. Conveniently, if she were delayed, her path went past the nurse's office.
She had learned from the best.
Octavia sped up as crucial seconds swept past. Dignity became a concern for another time. Detention could be dealt with later.
All that mattered was reaching the store before they left.
Too many minutes later, Octavia slid her convertible sideways into a parking spot outside the music store labeled "Employees Only". If caught, she'd blame Vinyl. That was a good way to get away with just about anything in this neighborhood. Even the local truant officers looked the other direction.
Octavia hopped out of the car without bothering to open the door. She barely remembered to yank the keys from the ignition.
She slammed against the store doors, expecting them to fall open. That didn't happen. Frustration welled up. Was she too late? Was the store somehow closed?
A couple of brain cells managed to connect, and she made out the letters P-U-L-L. Oh.
Octavia tugged open the door and stepped into cooler air. Her cheeks flushing with both excitement and embarrassment, she let her eyes wander to the register. Vinyl was waiting, but she seemed flustered. Her glasses were slid halfway off her nose. She held up her phone, and seemed to be recording video. Vinyl saw Octavia and waved, then returned to her unsteady hands.
Octavia turned and immediately smacked into someone's back. “Oh- pardon!” she said quickly. The man didn't seem to notice.
Of course not, she thought. He's probably here for the same reason I am. Well, maybe not the exact same reason...
She crab-walked around the man and tried to see through the rather large crowd. She caught a glimpse of dark hair near the wall, but that was it. Between her and her goal were about a hundred persons, each one a near insurmountable obstacle. Move! she wanted to shout. But that wouldn't be polite.
If ever there was a situation to cast aside principles-
No, Octavia affirmed. Some things simply couldn't be allowed.
Again, she tried to maneuver sideways, hoping to catch a glimpse between all the adoring fans. No such luck. They were packed tight. And she was short. Shorter than a lot of her classmates, and definitely shorter than the adults squeezed in this store.
Suddenly, her path even along the wall was blocked, by a muscular figure in a white undershirt. His blocky head practically scraped the ceiling. “Erm- excuse me?” Octavia reached out and placed a hand on his arm. “Do you think I could-”
“Wait your turn like the rest of us, sweet-cheeks,” he growled.
“I- sweet cheeks?!” Octavia drew back. She rose up to her full height of five-foot-two and glared at him. “I was simply going to ask if you would kindly shift yourself forward so that I might squeeze into the percussion section. So sorry for mildly inconveniencing you! Hrumph.” She crossed her arms and turned away.
“I uh- jeez lady, go ahead,” she heard a moment later. There was some muttering from the other people as the muscled mountain shifted, but he cleared a space.
“Thank you,” she smiled. He blushed, but she was already gone. Enough time wasting, she decided. Octavia slipped between the drums and into the brass. She couldn't see anything from there, either. In fact, she was even farther away!
She looked around. Clock. Seven to two. Sign. Event ends at two-thirty.
Blast! With the number of people in the store, the line would barely move by then. And no one in their right mind would let her cut. Not to mention, cutting would make a horrid impression.
She had to get their attention somehow.
Octavia glanced around the store, but saw nothing. She could stand on a drum and shout- no, that was a terrible idea. She'd get kicked out, and Vinyl would never let her hear the end of it.
Vinyl!
Yes, if anyone would have an idea of what to do, it would be her best friend. Octavia began squishing her way through the wall of bodies towards the counter.
But she couldn't get through. Not even her slender frame could slip between the sheer mass of humanity.
Blast again.
Oh, this was frustrating. If only Vinyl hadn't sent that text!
The text. I can text her! Octavia realized. She reached for her pocket-
And silently cursed. Her phone was in her purse. Which she left in her car. Which she couldn't get to.
Octavia wanted to scream. She was so close. All she wanted was one moment. One moment to even see them, for real, not in a magazine or an internet video or from a hundred yards at a concert. All she needed was that one moment, but she was out of time and ideas and she needed Vinyl's help to-
What would Vinyl do?
She winced. That was not a question asked often or lightly. In the wrong context, it could lead to a serious hospital visit. And yet-
She would do something crazy, Octavia decided. If this were Nero or Skrillex, Vinyl would take out her synthesizer and lay down a "phat" beat. She'd do what she did best.
Well.
Unfortunately, Octavia hadn't had the time or presence of mind to stop by the music room before she left school, so...
“Hey!”
Octavia jumped. “Oh! Hello, Pinkamena.”
Miss Pie, or as her friends called her, 'Pinkie', was standing right next to her. Which was strange, because Octavia swore Pinkie had been seated in class when she left. Her being here was impossible. On the other hand, impossible was a difficult thing to define at Canterlot High these days. Octavia decided to err on the side of politeness. “I didn't know you were a fan,” she said.
“Oh, I'm not really. I think they're good, but not my thing. But I saw you get a text message in class, and then you got really weird and left, so I followed you, and I saw you drive away! I thought, that wasn't like you, so it had to be something really big and important. But it probably wasn't a family emergency, 'cause they would've called you to the principles office. So I figured maybe it was a musical emergency! But you didn't have your case with you. So I went back to the music room and yep, there it was, just sitting there! So I picked it up and brought here and I explained everything that happened to you. Here you go!”
She said all that without pausing for more than half a second or taking a breath. And then she held out Octavia's case, which she had materialized out of seemingly nowhere, a giant smile on her face. She stared expectantly.
“Ah... Thank you, Pinka- Pinkie,” Octavia said. The intimate name sounded odd on her tongue, but she persevered. “This is actually just what I needed.”
She took the case and turned to go, then thought better and turned to say goodbye. To her momentary distress, Pinkamena had completely vanished. Octavia shrugged and wormed between other assorted piles of music greebles on the shop's floor. In the back was a small sound stage for testing any instruments. Allegedly, Rainbow Dash and Trixie had an epic guitar battle on that stage, with Rainbow unleashing her magic pony-whats-its and winning. Octavia actually wished she'd been there.
The stage would see a far different event today. Hopefully nothing so crass.
Octavia sat in a simple plastic chair and made certain her skirt was proper. Then she slowly opened the latches on the case. A puff of air unleashed the oily scent of polished wood and leather. It was the smell of old memories; biting, but warm. It smelled of hard work and good times.
She brought out her bow, carefully avoiding touching the strings, and made certain said strings were taut. They needed a bit of rosin. She applied it.
Setting the bow across her lap, Octavia then brought out the instrument itself. It was lighter than many people assumed, but still heavy enough. It was wood and metal and glue; what did they expect? She recalled the first time Vinyl picked it up and dropped it three inches, nearly giving her a heart attack. Her cello was handmade and expensive, and very delicate. Luckily, it was dropped into the padded case instead of the floor.
She had no trouble picking it up herself. She plucked at the instrument's strings and tsk-ed. Not quite right. From inside the case Octavia pulled a small tuning fork. One strike and it released a pure tone- a ringing sound that was sometimes painful, but always appreciated. She swiftly adjusted the knobs that controlled her strings, achieving as close to perfect sound as possible in the moment. She pushed down the endpin.
Octavia stole a glance at the wall clock; two-eleven. Not much time.
She needed a song. Something bold. Something unexpected. Something never before played on the cello! Or at least, not played often.
Think.
Think.
That's it.
Last month, over a long weekend, Vinyl had dragged her to a concert. A ridiculously overblown affair, filled with all kinds of abhorrent debauchery. The usual. In spite of the drunken, rude, and obnoxious fans (and that included Vinyl half the time- all right, most of the time), Octavia had enjoyed the music. One song in particular stayed with her. A heart-pumping number of passion and inner fire. She downloaded it off the internet the very next day.
Now she was going to play it.
My sincerest apologies, she thought to her instrument.
Octavia picked up her bow and struck a short note.
Vrm.
She winced. Hardly the sound she usually produced. But perhaps, once she got going...
With a deep breathe, she played the first riff.
Vrrn-rhn-rhn Rrrn-rn-rn*
*Vrun-rnn-rnn Rrrn-rn-rn*
*Vrrn-rhn-rhn Rrrn-rn-rn*
*Veehrn-rnn Rrrn-rn
By the last note, she was smiling. The hairs of her bow had already begun to split, but it sounded wonderful. She dropped to a lower pitch and began tapping her foot along as well.
Brhn-hhn-hhn Hrrn-hn-hn
Brun-hnn-hnn Hrrn-hn-hn
Brhn-hhn-hhn Hrrn-hn-hn
Heehrn-hnn Hrrn-hn
Before she could get any further, however, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Octavia flinched, expecting the manager of the store. She looked up-
And her heart stopped.
The man was tall; he practically towered over her sitting down. His long hair was the color of dark chocolate, almost covering his eyes. She was glad it didn't. They were dazzling eyes. Pools of dark resin shining in the fluorescent lights. His smooth skin was polished birch.
Octavia swallowed. This was it. She'd done it! She had their attention. Now- now she had to keep it.
“Um- 'ello.”
No, dammit! That wasn't what she was supposed to say! She was supposed to boast, to say she could handle the entire song on her own. She was supposed to reel them in tighter, wow them! Now they'd never-
The man, Stjepan, chuckled. “You are good,” he said, in that beautiful Croatian accent, “But for a song like that...”
The crowd parted like the Red Sea before Moses; it was his bandmate Luka, looking so similar they could've been brothers. Luka carried over his head a pair of gorgeous cellos.
“Could we join in?” Luka asked.
Octavia sputtered. “I- I would be honored.”
Her heart beat even faster as they each took a cello, and a bow, and sat down on either side of her, a little bit behind. The message was clear: this was her show.
Well.
Then she'd make sure it was a show to remember.
The shop had gone quiet. No one even dared breath.
(Play Me)
And then Octavia began the song again, unleashing the opening riffs.
Luka joined the second strain, tapping out short notes like a drum beat. And on the third, almost on instinct, Octavia switched to the lyrical piece, and Stjepan took over the original instrumentals. She could almost hear the lyrics in her mind, dark and angry.
Stjepan glanced over and grinned. His head bobbed in time with the music, sending his hair flying.
Octavia couldn't help it. She smiled back, and her head began to move on its own.
The crowd cheered as they hit the chorus. Someone- Octavia suspected Pinkie Pie- had managed to set up lights and special effects. Strobes flared and sparkles shot up, throwing monstrous shadows on the walls, the ceiling, the audience.
I, I, feel like a- Octavia's breath hissed through her teeth. The strings resonated, filling her mind with the music.
They switched, Luka taking up the guitar sound as Octavia smashed away on her precious cello's strings as if it were a common drum, and Stjepan kept the lyrics flowing. To her surprise, they emerged from within his instrument no different than hers. He's holding back, she decided. He didn't want her to feel bad.
Oh, that wouldn't do at all. They were humoring her, like she were a child.
I am so much more, she thought angrily. I am a cellist. She didn't let the thought distract her. She let it fuel her. Octavia dropped the rhythm into a lower pitch, and they followed. She increased the tempo, and they followed. She led the music.
The second chorus went to Luka, and the audience's cheering rose a couple decibels. His grin and wild eyes indeed made him look like a monster. If a very handsome one. The man's arms flew as he rose out of his seat and danced around the stage, still playing.
Octavia shook her head. Now was the time, her chance. She shot both her fellow musicians a sharp look, and they relinquished the lyrics back to her. Octavia threw what was left of her caution away; she relaxed her entire body and leaned into it. She leaned forward until she was out of her seat, but she didn't dance- she claimed the stage, her bow moving fast as thought, every note a pleading growl of lyrical pleasure.
Octavia offered her soul. She gave it to the audience, everything she could.
Not enough. She drew on her darkest memories, her most hidden self. She remembered the attacks on her school; Sunset Shimmer; The Dazzlings; Midnight Sparkle. She felt the pit of blackness they left. The violation. The anger. The fear. She channeled it all outward, her bow and cello an extension of her very self. It was time. The chorus. It was now-
Without even a glance, three musicians raked their bows over the strings, as deep a pitch as possible, an angry roar from the depths of Octavia's mind.
FEEL LIKE A MONSTER!
The crowd roared, too, clapping and stomping and making enough noise to shake plaster from the ceiling. The cellists ignored the dust and finished the grand finale, bows humming in their hands.
The last note faded, and Octavia was left gasping for breath, practically doubled over on the stage. At some point, her collar had popped. She was glad; sweat dripped down her back in rivers. Her arms were chilled.
Exhaustion blurred her sight for a moment. When she could see again, Octavia recognized a sandy-colored hand. She took it, and Luka- or was it Stjepan? She was still woozy, and suddenly looking up wasn't helping any- he hauled her to her feet, and they all bowed. The crowd went nuts, screaming and cheering. A few were even chanting.
"Oc-ty! Lu-ka! Stje-pan!"
“All right, all right!” Luka shouted. She recognized his voice. “I'm afraid we are out of time,” he announced. The audience booed.
“Not to worry,” Stjepan jumped in. “I think we'll be back at some point.” He turned and took Octavia's hand and planted a kiss on it, like a gentleman. Then he gave her a roguish wink. She blushed, though her face was still flushed, so she doubted anyone noticed.
“Have a nice day everyone,” Luka smiled and waved them towards the exit. Slowly, with much muttering, the people thinned. A few minutes more, and only four were left in the store. Luka, Stjepan, Octavia, and Vinyl. The latter finally put up her phone and walked around the counter to stand with her friend.
Luka strode up to her and held out a hand. “I don't think we've been formally introduced,” he said. “Luka Sulic. And this is Stjepan Hauser.”
Octavia shook their hands. She was sure hers were weak and clammy. “I know,” she said, far too slow. Her brain was a bit behind.
“You are a good cellist," Luka told her.
A pause. "Thank you," she replied. Too slow. Again.
"How long have you played?”
Another minute as her synapses tried to fire. “My whole life,” she said finally. “My family is very musical.”
“I do not doubt it.” Stjepan hefted his cello and pointed with the now badly frayed bow. “My friend, he understates. You are very good. Perhaps better than Luka.”
"No, no," Luka nudged him. "I think I am better still. But perhaps she can take your place, yes?"
They both laughed.
“Um- thank you,” Octavia smiled nervously.
They both smiled back, for another minute, then, very politely, Stjepan said, “Well, it was nice meeting you- ah...”
“Octavia,” Octavia said.
“It was nice meeting you Octavia. Perhaps next time, we can play on an actual stage, hmm?”
“Yeah, next time. Sure.” She probably should've sounded more excited, but at the moment she was having a hard time thinking straight.
The two stars exchanged confused looks, then shrugged and turned away, about to walk out the door.
That's when Vinyl elbowed her in the ribs. Hard.
“Ow! What-”
Some brain cells regained their function, and Octavia suppressed the urge to panic. “Pardon me?” she called.
They stopped.
“Could I, um...” She gathered up her instrument. “Would you sign my case?”
To her relief, Luka laughed, and asked for a pen. Which Vinyl was all too happy to hand him.
Author's Note
Had the idea a while back, wrote part of it, put off finishing it for way too long. Now its finally done, and I'm quite happy with it. Not sure if it deserves a comedy tag or not, since it only has a few funny moments.
I originally left the lyrics to the song in, but of course that didn't pass moderation. I ended up taking them out and honestly... I kind of like this better. The song is of course Monster by Skillet. The cover found in the video was created by a group called Cellofourte. The original song and its radio edit are the property of Atlantic Records. The lyrics were created by John Cooper and Gavin Brown. I am not associated with any of them.
