The Lion Dance Club

Prologue

Maria reaches the end of the stairs just in time to see the group of music students scatter up and
down the street amidst a chorus of “good byes” and giggles. She stops by the entranceway, hiding
beneath the shade of the door frame. It is a hot day, and her violin case is heavy, the handle
cutting into her hand. The black felt dress her mother picked out for her is so heavy, that she can
barely stand straight. Sweat beads upon the back of her neck, her long hair acting like an
unwanted scarf. The idea of walking out onto the sun kissed cobblestones, scares her. Across the
street is a café selling iced drinks. She shifts her weight, lured by the idea of having an ice cream
float. A few coins clink in her pocket, but the line out the door quashes that notion, lest she be
late for her next lesson and disrupt her schedule. Instead, Maria begins walking down the
pedestrian only street, towards where her father will be waiting in the car.

They say once a path is tread, the second time feels quicker and shorter. The same cannot be said
for this particular path; or perhaps for this particular person? Every Saturday, Maria had walked up
Denson Street from the beach below, past buskers and jubilant melodies, the aroma of freshly
baked bread suffusing the air with cinnamon and spice…and yet with each passing week the trek
downhill again felt more like a climb. This bright and vibrant world, had somehow lost its hue,
leaving Maria’s head hanging low and her pale lips pressed together in a thin line.

“Don’t move! Coming through!”

Maria raises her violin case to shield herself. Eyes scrunched closed she braces for an impact. A
clatter of footsteps fill the air. She can feel the currents of air rushing through her hair. Maria
opens one eye, then gasps before opening both wide. All around her are people dressed in martial
art uniforms of white and black with golden embroidery. Either an azure or emerald silk sash is
tied tight to their waist. Upon some of their shoulders, colorful Chinese Lion’s are draped, while
others carry brass instruments like cymbals and gongs.

They are Lion Dancers. Her Aunt and Uncles often mentioned them during Chinese New Year.
They told her all about the booming of the ox hide drum, a sound you hear and feel in your chest
at the same time. They graced her imagination, by recounting the fanciful footwork, the sight of
Lions flying through the air before landing with such grace and poise that you can’t help but smile
and applaud. She had always asked her parents to take her, but there had never been time, the
lessons always came first. As the last Lion Dancer races past her, Maria turns her head to follow
them with her curious eyes. She watches them for a moment longer, then hesitantly, takes a step
towards them. The uneven cobble stones cause her to stumble to her left.

“Wait, whoa, move, move!”

“Huh?” splutters Maria, right before she is struck on her shoulder. The impact causes her to spin in
a circle. She gives a great shout as her violin case almost slips from her grasp. Her fingers clench
through the pain, holding on tight. Dancing backwards, she manages to regain her balance using
the heavy case as a counter weight. Looking up, she sees the person who had hit her, a young boy
roughly her age, pin wheeling one arm while the other one holds onto a purple and white Lion.
Rubbing her smarting shoulder, Maria can see that the boy is losing the battle for regaining his
balance. She puts down her violin case and makes to walk over.

“Ah crap, guess it’s all or nothing!” shouts the boy.

Before Maria could even take two steps, he stops his pinwheeling arm to take the Lion from his
shoulder. With a great shout, he hoists it high into the air in front of him. Maria watches, open
mouthed, as the boy allows gravity to take him, lunges headfirst into a roll, and then springs back
up just in time to catch the falling Lion by the wooden handle bars hidden within the underbelly.

Maria has a hand over her parted lips, the pain in her shoulder completely forgotten. “What in the
world?” she whispers.

The boy pivots on one foot to face Maria. “Hey sorry bout that, but I gotta run! Enjoy the show,
alright?” His chest is heaving for air, and his hair is plastered in sweat, and yet, beaming from ear
to ear, he throws a hand up in apology before dashing off after the others. His red sash trails in the
air behind him, just like a kite’s tail.

Maria doesn’t understand. She touches her own parted lips. Smiling. He was smiling. Even
though it is hot, even though he is obviously tired and sweaty. What makes him different from
her? Why can he smile like that, but she cannot. She wanted to find out. She grabs her violin and
stumbles after him. “W-Wait!” she shouts. She grimaces as her Violin case strikes her on the knee,
but she keeps running. The boy’s back gets smaller and smaller until he vanishes around a corner.

It takes Maria a minute to make it to the corner in question. Panting heavily, she uses one hand to
support herself against the corner store wall. Ignoring the looks of the concerned passerby’s,
Maria peeks around the corner. The road in front splits into five separate potential paths, and
neither the boy, nor the other Lion Dancers, are anywhere to be seen. Maria pulls her head back.
She drops to her laurels, trying hard to catch her breath and not keel over. Hot tears fill her eyes.
She had lost her chance to find his secret, and she will also be late for her next class, as well as
scolded terribly by her father. Getting shakily to her feet once more, Maria wipes the tears from
her face, and begins to walk away.

A single strike of an ox hide drum echoes through the streets, bouncing off the polished glass of
the many store fronts, making each and every single person stop what they are doing. A second
strike, chases the first. Confused, Maria places a hand atop her chest, for an echo of the first and
second still lingered there. A heartbeat passes and another strike of the drum, stronger than the
last, makes Maria jump in shock and joy. She can hear it! And she can also feel it! The cadence of
the drum rises, matching the march of her own heart. With mouth agape in surprise and awe, she
turns towards the sound, the sensation, and races off.

Up the stairs to the right, and down a small hill. Others follow suit, jogging past her. With each
step she takes, the stronger the hum in her chest, and the more people are gathered by the sides
of the street or above on the balconies. She stumbles across a wooden bridge, ducks underneath a
garland of rose and ivy, before finding herself stuck behind a wall of excited onlookers pointing and
shouting.

Fire crackers ring out, a cacophonous cackle that over powers the drums. Lion heads bob and sway
through the sky. Maria cranes her neck up high, so much so that it hurts. As the last few fire
crackers fizzle and die, the drums regain control, playing harder than ever before. Maria watches
awestruck at the dozen sparkling Lions bobbing to the beat of the drums. They are a rainbow
come to life, a veritable sea of color, making anything else look gray and drab by comparison.

Taking a deep breath, Maria pushes and squeezes her way to the front of the crowd. A metal
banister had been erected to keep people off the roads. She looks up, just in time to see one of
the performers thrown into the air. The purple Lion stretches out its legs, pawing at the cloudless,
indigo sky. From underneath the costume, a red sash trails out of it. The Lion lands right in front
of Maria. It drops to its hunches, then turns to stare directly at her with large, round, playful eyes.

Maria tries to swallow, but her throat is parched from all the running. The Lion tilts its head at her,
its large ears twitch, and the tiny fuzzy tail behind it wags once, then twice, then repeatedly. Maria
takes a hand off the case of her violin. Gingerly, she reaches out from between the metal railings,
towards the ribbon tied around the cute, stubby horn on the Lion’s head. Tentatively, the corners
of her mouth begin to rise.

The Lion opens its own mouth, displaying two neat rows of teeth, before leaning forward to close
over the hand. Maria stares at the Lion. The Lion’s big, round eyes stare back at her. They blink,
just once. Maria’s lower jaw sinks into a loud, raw scream. Her hand is immediately released, and
Maria withdraws it in a flash. A gasp of relief is audible, even over all the instruments, when she is
certain all her fingers are still there. She looks up in anger only to find the embarrassed face of the
boy from earlier, the playful, hand biting Lion, now draped back over a shoulder.

“S-Sorry, I thought it’d be funny…” The boy’s words peter off as he squints at her. “Oh wait…it’s
you! The girl who was trying to follow me!”

“More like the girl you crashed into!” retorts Maria with flared nostrils.

“Hey, if I didn’t bump into you, then would you be at this parade right now?” asks the boy. He
laughs, but also dips his head. “Sorry about the bump…and the scare just now.”

“You’re still smiling,” says Maria coldly.

The boy looks at her with one eye brow raised. Half a second later understanding dawns on his
face. “Right, I guess that would make an apology look fake.” He glances around him, at the
cheering crowds, booming drums, and dancing Lions. Another performer tosses a bundle of fire
crackers onto the street and the crowd cheers as the Lions prance left and right and do other tricks
to avoid them. He shrugs, a sheepish look on his face. “It’s kind of hard not to smile right now.”
He points at his cheek, then at Maria’s. “You should try it too sometimes, yeah?”
Before Maria could retort, someone’s hand is placed upon her shoulder. It is a heavy hand with a
very familiar grip. “There you are…I’ve been looking all over for you!” Maria’s face goes paler than
the white of the Lion’s mane. She looks up, right into the stern, disappointed gaze of her father’s
narrow eyes. “Why haven’t you answered your phone? Never mind that, we have to go. Give me
your Violin.” The father takes the case in one hand, and Maria’s hand in the other. “Even if we
rush, you are already late for your next class, young lady.”

“No, wait, papa, stop!” cries Maria. She turns back towards the young Lion Dancer who could only
watch with a stupefied face as Maria is dragged back through the crowd and away from the
performance. “Papa, please!” sobs Maria as she tries futilely to break free of her father’s grip. She
turns back to the boy, who is now standing upright, his teeth bared, a hand upon the barrister as if
he meant to vault it. She throws her hand out, reaching back for him. What’s your name!?” she
screams. His lips move, but his reply is lost, drowned out by the beating of the drums. The crowd
filters into the empty space, obscuring the boy and his Lion from her view, leaving Maria with only
a fading echo, reverberating within her chest.

<><><><><><><>

Chapter 1 – An Empty Canvas

If someone were to ask Maria where the best view of the city was, she would reply, “In the
rearview mirror of my car as it fades into the distance.” This wasn’t due to a lack of knowledge
about her city. No, Maria could tell you which nook and crannies hid the coziest cafes, which
streets were so boisterous you’d forget the time of day and which hiking trails were actually worth
braving the summer six legged denizens for. She had, after all, lived her entire life in Mirona, but if
pressed to explain her decision, she would tell you that the problem lies in the word lived. Saying
she had lived in Mirona is a bit inaccurate; existed would be more appropriate. She would nod
with her eyes closed, waving a finger profoundly and say, “Existed, with bouts of “life” in between.”

Today, was one such day, day of life so to speak. Maria glanced over at the receding skyline of
Mirona in her rearview mirror. She sighed in relief anond then floored the accelerator to merge
with traffic on the highway. When she had joined with the stream of cars leaving Mirona, she
pushed a button on her steering wheel to activate the voice command. “Call, Ken.”

Ken picked up on the second ring. “

“Phase one success”, said Maria to no one in particular. of relief before flooring the accelerator to
and breathed a sigh of relief, pushed the power button to the radio and then floored the
accelerator to merge with the traffic on the highway.

before flooring the accelerator. Her car races down the highway.

and breathed a sigh of. Today, was one such day. A day of life. Like usual, her parents believed
she was off to study at some new library. “Afterall,” Maria had said to her father earlier, “The one
in downtown is state of the art, but too busy to get any real work done.” She glanced at the
receding skyline of Mirona in her rearview mirror and breathed a sigh of. It would not have been
above her father or mother to dictate where she should be studying instead. That was the
problem in itself. Life is about choices, so how could she live when she wasn’t allowed to make
any?

Stepping on the accelerator, Maria raced her car down the highway. That is why even though
today was one such day of life.

The clock on her dashboard didn’t display the right time. It hadn’t since the day she bought it at a
used car lot.

Maria breathed a sigh of relief at the receding skyline of Mirona in her rearview mirror.

Tricking her parents had been getting easier as of late, but that was the problem. These one day
outings.

She smirked at the receding skyline of Mirona in her rearview mirror. Tricking her parents, had
been getting easier by the day.

her rearview mirror, at the receding skyline of Mirona.

But at the end of the day.

had lived her entire life in Mirona, although she would tell you if asked, that the world lived is a bit
inaccurate.

Though Maria had lived her entire life in Mirona, she felt the word, lived, is a bit inaccurate.
Existed, would be more appropriate. Existed, with bouts of “life” in between. Maria had soon
learned that her parents had her entire life planned out for her, and living did not seem to be
scheduled in until somewhere between retirement and death. What glimpses of life she could get
could only occur when she snuck off under the pretext of studying for a school exam at a new
library each time. “Afterall,” Maria had said to her father, “The one in downtown is state of the art,
but too busy to get any real work done.”
Today, was no different. Maria shakes her head as she races her car down the highway. Scratch
that. Today was supposed to be completely different.

Maria could tell you which nooks and crannies hid the coziest cafes, which streets were so
boisterous you’d forget the time of day even at night, and which hiking trails were actually worth
braving the summer six legged denizens for. But at the end of the day.

The one on

The city with its sparkling skyscrapers and

For her entire life, Marian had lived in Mirona. She could tell you which nooks and crannies hid the
coziest cafes, which streets were so boisterous you’d forget the time of day even at night, and
which hiking trails were actually worth braving the summer six legged denizens for. And yet, if you
would ask her where the best view of the city was, she would reply, “From the drivers side window
of my car as it fades into the distance.”

Maria wanted to leave the city, that much she knew.

That view, is exactly what Maria smiles at as she

Lived was a bit of a strong word. Existed, is something Maria

were, the most boisterous streets, and which hiking trails were actually worth braving all the
insects for.

the last ten years or so, Maria had existed in Mirona. Existed, not technically lived, for the life she
lived was the one her parents had chosen for her.

She would use the word existed, because the , Maria had lived in Mirona. She had

If someone were to ask Maria where her favorite view of the city was, she would reply, “From my
car window as it fades away into the distance.” She had lived her entire life in

If anyone where to ask what Maria’s favorite view of the city, she would reply, “As it fades away
into the distance.”
The road in front of Maria is old, and unmaintained. With each dip or rise, her seatbelt cuts in to
her chest. The sides of the road are dense with greenery. Overgrown shrubbery and long blades
of unkept grass tickle the wheels of the car, and every once in a while, a low hanging tree branch
swipes at the windows. The screen of foliage above is so dense, that barely any sunlight can wiggle
its way through unabated. After a particularly nasty bump, one that makes Maria wince at the
damage it must have caused the suspension system, the GPS beeps urgently, signalling a sharp left.

To where? That is the question Maria asks herself. For the left is a wall of almost solid, leafy
greens except for the tiniest, smallest gap, evident only by a few stray strands of sunlight being
allowed through unabated. The car swerves into the light, emerging onto a small ramp of cracked
concrete which leads into a parking lot by the riverside. The car taxis to a stop by a rusty, metal
railing, where it is parked. The engine shuts off with a small sigh.

The driver’s door opens, and Maria steps out. Her long bare legs sting as they transition from the
air conditioned interior, to the balmy summer weather outside. She walks a couple steps forwards,
in the direction of the river, stretching her arms out above her. She rubs her aching shoulders
underneath a loose, white blouse. “Phew, that feels better.” A breeze sails by, making the trees
rustle and teasing her brown hair which was tied back into a sensible pony tail. “Ah, air
conditioning can’t beat this either.” Maria closes the door to her blue hatchback and leans back
against it to look over the river below. “And this view!” She pulls her sunglasses down a fraction.
“The city just looks nicer from afar.”

Beyond the river, is the downtown area of the city of Mirona. The sky was clear, without a single
cloud, a perfect day for the debut performance of her new club. The skyscrapers reach into the
brilliant sky, the glass and chrome sparkling like diamonds. When she was within that concrete
jungle, she felt oppressed, like the looming buildings were scrutinizing her every move, but out
here, she feels free. Maria watches the view, perfectly content…for a whole of ten seconds before
she takes her phone out and hits the dial button. Afterall, she does have a schedule to keep to, for
the performance started at two o’clock sharp.

After a minute, an older man’s voice answers. “Is this Mr. Chen?” asks Maria. She nods her head
at his confirmation. At his question, she looks over her shoulder, towards the dual story old house
at the end of the parking lot. A large banner on the side of the door read “Little China.” Potted
bamboo plants and an assortment of more common flowers frame the doorway. Small stone steps
lead through the makeshift garden towards two large shuttered garages. She looks back towards
the city, replying, “Mmhmm, mmhmm, I believe I should be right outside!” She nods her head a
couple more times. “Come to the garage? Okay, I’ll be right there!” The call drops as Mr. Chen
hangs up. Maria pockets her phone and locks her car. Her gaze lingers for a few seconds, along
the stretch of beach where Denson Street begins.

It had been ten, long years, since that day, but the memory is still painfully fresh in her mind. She
holds up her hand, reaching out for that day. Her fist closes upon the air, but when she brings it
close to herself and opens up the finger’s, nothing tangible is inside. She scoffs at herself, a twenty
year old still stuck musing about things that cannot be changed. She pushes herself off her car and
turns around resolutely, a half smile on her lips. The past cannot be changed, but her future is an
empty canvas, and today she paints the first stroke.

As Maria reached the first garage, the door is hoisted into the air with a clatter of aluminum peats
coupled with the screech of rusted metal wheels on an unoiled track. The inside of the garage is lit
with a single, naked flickering bulb. Bamboo frames, twisted into bulbous shapes to form a
skeleton of sorts, litter the work benches in the back. Various crimping tools, and strands of wire
and rope hang from the ceiling. A strong smell of paints and lacquer permeates the room. Mr.
Chen, a balding man in his early fifties, pushes a flatbed out from the side of the garage. A large
tarp is draped over its cargo.

“Mr. Chen,” says Maria with a professional smile. She can feel butterflies in her stomach, giddy like
a kid at Christmas. “I am glad I got the right address on the first try!”

“Yes,” says Mr. Chen. His eyes are tired, and Maria can see callouses on his worn hands. “You are…
Maria?” he asks, stopping half way out of his workshop and halfway in.

Maria nods, but the old man only frowns.

“I expected someone…older.” He shakes his head, grunts something to himself. “I guess it doesn’t
matter, you will transport my work carefully, correct?”

“Of course,” reassures Maria. She beams at him as he pushes the flatbed up to her. She looks
down. “This must be it!?”

“Yes, my newest Lion, made exactly as requested by the…the…” Mr. Chen peters off, pulling out his
phone to check the order information.

“The University of Mirona Lion Dance Club,” finishes Maria all in one breath. Her own, brand new
club. She hovers eagerly by the flatbed, a hand outstretched towards the tarp. “M-May I!?”

“Yes, of course.”

Delicately, Maria pulls the tarp away. An ear is exposed, and then a single black horn in the center
with a silver and red ribbon tied elegantly around it. Two large eyes peer out at the world, a
supple bump for a nose with two purple and silver pom poms on each side, wagging in the wind. A
mouth, reminiscent of a short duck bill, is open as if in anticipation for this very meeting. White
fluffy fur trim adorns the ears, eyes and lips, and a short beard is attached to the bottom of the
mouth. Hand painted silver and black lines and ancient motifs anoint and accentuate the Lion’s
red and white skin.

“You are pleased,” says Mr. Chen. It is not a question. The strength of his words are filled with the
faith he has in his family’s work, and the history of satisfied customers under his belt.

“Merely “pleased” does not do my feelings justice,” says Marian in a hushed voice. She drops to
her hunches, her hand trembles as she reaches out for it. But this time, the Lion doesn’t bite her
hand. Her fingers caress the soft fur. “Hello there,” she whispers. The colors are lighter and less
harsh than the more traditional colors of black and red. Even the shape of the head is rounder,
cuter than the ones from ten years ago. It is more playful than fierce, but still just as proud and
regal. “You are perfect,” mouths Marian, for it is exactly what she wants for her new Lion Dance
Club.

Marian straightens up. “Thank you, Mr. Chen, this is wonderful work, and I cannot be happier with
this purchase.” She holds out a hand, but Mr. Chen’s hand remains drawn, and his face taunt. “Is
something wrong?” asks Maria once more.

“No, not wrong,” says Mr. Chen. “Confused. The University of Mirona Lion Dance Club is not a club
I have heard of before.”

“Oh,” says Maria blushing slightly. “At the moment, we are a rather small, brand new club, so that
isn’t surprising. But I promise you, soon it will be well known!”

“That is not what I mean,” says Mr. Chen. “When you are in this business, you know all the clubs
and which Kung Fu Masters teach them. Clubs like Shen Li, and EKFA, all big names…but a club at
the University is very surprising…and even more surprising is that none of the old Masters have
been talking about this development.”

Maria bites her lip, but remains where she is standing, one hand still placed atop her Lion. “I
assure you; we are a legitimate club.”

“Who is the Master of this club?” asks Mr. Chen with an empty face.

“It is a student run club, sanctioned by the University.” Maria stands up a little straighter. “I am
the president.”

Mr. Chen waves that aside. “That is very nice, but what I mean is, who is your teacher?”

Marian blinks, the smile on her lips falter, if only for a second. “Currently…we do not have a
teacher.”

The parking lot falls silent, so silent that the thumping of her heart overpowers the sounds of the
rustling leaves and running river water. In fact, it is so loud that she isn’t sure if Mr. Chen can hear
it or not. “I-Is that a problem?” asks Maria, her voice two octaves too high.

Mr. Chen who had seemed preoccupied the entire exchange, finally looks at Maria from top to
bottom. His gaze lingers upon her manicured nails, and the designer sunglasses tucked into her
blouse. “Who will teach the art to go along with my craft?” Mr. Chen wears a pained look on his
face. “Lion Dancing, and making Lions, is not fun and games. The art is tradition and must be
taken seriously.”

“Are you implying that I am not taking any of this seriously?” asks Maria. His chastising demeanor
and words remind her of her fathers, and suddenly she can feel his grip tight around her wrist.
“Because I assure you, Mr. Chen,” says Maria as she hides her right hand, balled up into a first,
behind her back, “I am taking this very, very seriously.”
“I am serious too,” says Mr. Chen. He looks down at his Lion, and his face softens. “This craft was
taught to me by my departed wife, thirty five years ago in a tiny town in China.” He matches
Maria’s gaze with his own. “I ask you again. Who will teach the students to properly use my Lion?”

“I am looking to hire an instructor,” says Maria, “And if I really cannot find one, then I will teach
myself. I may not look like it, but I have been training in martial arts and the Lion Dance for a very
long time now. I would not have started the UniMir Lion Dance Club otherwise, and I need this
Lion for my club.” She stares directly into Mr. Chen’s eyes, the brow furrowed over them. “You
accepted my request online; my card has already been credited.” Maria’s heart races. “For all legal
purposes, I already own this Lion.” The creases upon Mr. Chen’s face deepens, and his scowl grows
more pronounced. “But out of respect,” says Maria loudly, “For you and your departed wife; I will
ask you one more time.” Maria watches his eyes. “If you wish it, you can return the money to me
and I will leave this Lion here.” Mr. Chen’s eyes dart to back to the mostly empty garage, glosses
over the decrepit store front and state of his house and his eyes go blank. Maria watches as he
swallows. She removes her hand from the Lion, the sudden action jolting Mr. Chen back from
whatever thoughts are in his head. She takes a step back to a more respectable distance, and dips
her head. “My name is Marian C. Zhou, and I am the president of the University of Mirona’s newly
formed Lion Dancing Club. I vow to make the club’s name respectable, and to do my utmost to
uphold the traditions of the Chinese Lion Dance. Will you, Chen Shifu, sell me one of your beloved
Lions, so that I may pursue this ideal?”

Mr. Chen’s lower lip quivers. After several minutes, he sighs. “I accepted the job and the payment,
it would be dishonorable to go back on my word.” He turns back towards his shop. “Once you
have loaded the Lion, return my flatbed, then go…and take good care of my Lion.”

“I will,” promises Maria. She remains bowing until Mr. Chen had vanished into the depths of the
garage.

<><><><><><><><>

Maria speeds along in her car, trying to return to the University. Her heart refuses to settle,
beating vigorously in her chest in frustration. The look in Mr. Chen’s eyes, had been the same look
that her father wore when she pleaded with him and mother to let her take up Martial Arts. Music
lessons, dance lessons, extra tutoring for school, all those were okay, but Martial Arts, was deemed
“unnecessary.” Undeterred, her ten year old self had taken to learning from online videos late at
night, or early in the mornings. It had been an exercise in frustration, but she had stuck with it
until she was able to convince her parents to finally let her go to a real class.

A flashing speed check sign warned her she was almost double over the limit. “Damn it!” swore
Maria, hitting the brakes. Once she is slow enough, she pulled over to the side and hit her caution
lights on. She draws her legs up to her chest and rests her head upon it. Looking up, she pulls her
sunglasses off and wipes her moist eyes. She adjusts the rear-view mirror until she can see herself
in it. Gingerly, she tries to smile. What she sees, is the fake smile she gave Mr. Chen, that she gave
her parents this morning, that she gives the world on a daily basis. With a grunt of disgust, she
pushes the mirror away.

“I have to calm down,” she says to herself. She turns the AC on and aims it at her face. “Just…
another person who doubts me…but I’ll show them, I’ll show them all.” All her life, her parents
had planned everything, right down to when she should eat or sleep. She had fought for
independence, and this club, was the first thing she had done without her parent’s approval. She
cannot fail, for if she did, it would prove to her parents that she cannot do anything on her own.
The thought of it was so painful, it makes it hard to breath. They couldn’t be right, Mr. Chen
couldn’t be right, but technically he already had been right about one thing. She needed a real
instructor, for her own skills are not up to the level she wished they could be.

Her phone rings, and tied into the audio system of the car, the tune is so loud, Maria jumps in
shock. She smashes the answer call button. “H-Hello!?”

“Marian, this is your mother.”

“Ah…mama, good…” Maria checks the time on her car clock. “…afternoon, good afternoon. How
was lunch with your friends today?”

“We are still eating,” says Maria’s mother, “But I wanted to call you to remind you that the deadline
for Medical School is approaching. Have you submitted the sealed transcripts yet?”

Maria casts a sideway glance at the passenger seat. Hidden beneath a dozen or so test pamphlets
advertising her club, is a brown envelope affixed with the seal of the University on it. “I was…just
on my way to the University to do that, mother.”

“Good girl, I knew I didn’t have to remind you, but if you forget we would have to wait an
additional year…these things frighten and worry me dear.”

Maria tries to laugh, but the sound is hollow and comes out wrong. “This isn’t something you
should worry about mother.”

“I know darling, but I-“

As if a canon had fired right next to Maria, the sound of an explosion rocks her entire car. Maria
screams, and over the phone, her mother cries out in panic.

“What was that!?” cries Maria over the panicked voices from her phone. Whatever it was, her
mother had heard it too. Maria looks left and right, and then in front of her, she sees it. “No…”
mouths Maria. As if someone was slowly closing the blinds upon a sunny day, a curtain of gray had
drowned out the indigo sky in front of her. In mere seconds, the rain was ontop of her, a heavy
downpour with thick, full drops that rattle the metal frame of the car continuously as if it were
being fired upon by a machine gun. A zip of lighting blinds Maria’s widened eyes, and then
another boom of thunder makes her grimace.
“Maria, darling are you okay?” comes her mother’s frantic voice. “Where did this storm come
from, where are you right now dear?”

“Mama…I have to go,” says Maria. She hangs up the call and drops her phone onto the seat beside
her. Her head falls forward onto her steering wheel. “But…the performance…”

Something that There is a loud crash of thunder, A giant crash of thunder, so mighty, that the
entire car shakes.