Chapter Text
One more piece of “constructive criticism” and Julie was booking it out of the recital hall and spending some quality time in the big stall of the Conservatory's smelly, older than her, bathroom. It wasn’t that she was nervous, she told Flynn that morning when they got breakfast together before Theory I, it was more that she was overwhelmed by the crushing weight of severe imposter syndrome, and overall melancholy regarding her whole situation.
She couldn’t really help it that no matter what she did every time she walked into the music building on her college campus she was reminded that while everyone else seemed to come in with scholarships and choices, she had nothing more than a single solitary acceptance letter. And even that very clearly said “provisional basis.”
“Dear Miss Molina,
Congratulations!
It brings me great joy to inform you that you have been accepted to the Los Feliz Conservatory of Music on a provisional basis. Our vocal faculty heard potential, and are sure after some time under the right instruction, we will be able to grant you full acceptance.
Please inform us of your intent to attend by…”
Blah blah blah.
It was the provisional that kept tripping her up. Julie was good, she knew she was good. There wasn’t any reason why she shouldn’t have, at the very least, just gotten in. Especially once she stood outside of the choir room waiting for her turn with the studio placement audition and heard some of the scholarship students. She was better than them and she knew it. But she was only provisional. Why did it suddenly feel like everything she knew about herself was wrong? It felt like everyone knew it too. Like there was a giant MEDIOCRE AT BEST stamped in red across her forehead.
“Julie, I want you to sing this song again, but I want you to sing it like you’re angry.”
This was the third time Dr. Robinson had her singing Du bist wie eine Blume in front of the entire voice area, and Julie was pretty sure she was going to vomit. Also, her hands had gone completely numb and she couldn’t decide if that was a problem to be concerned about or not.
The quicker you do this the quicker you can sit down , she told herself. And it wasn’t even like “angry” was a hard emotion for her. She was angry. She had been angry for the last three years of her life. Finally, Dr. Robinson had stumbled across the one thing that would not be hard for Julie to convey! She nodded to her student accompanist to say she was ready, and then she began to sing.
The lyrics of the song didn’t really fit with the anger, soft and innocent flowers didn't really mesh in her head. But it also didn't matter, because anger was just the right tool for her in that moment.
Julie's voice filled the recital hall, strong and clear, hitting the back walls of the with a sonic punch. She noticed the looks on the other student's faces, they were shocked. No longer was she the shy timid girl who had been standing up there for the last 10 minutes. She felt connected to her voice in a way she had only ever felt working in her mom's little studio. The German words she felt unsure of when she was first handed this piece suddenly slotted into her brain like German was her first language. Suddenly she didn't have to think about breath control or dynamics, it all just happened the way she needed it to. The song was short, only two verses and a small piano interlude, but for a brief moment, her imposter syndrome disappeared and the whole provisional thing melted away.
When the song came to an end there was a very pregnant silence. Moments of Julie just standing on the stage, staring at the back wall because she refused to make eye contact with anyone in the audience.
“That girl is a powerhouse !” Somebody shouted from the front row, which broke the silence. Suddenly the room was filled with applause, which gave Julie the courage to brave a look at her peers.
Almost everyone was clapping, and a couple of the sophomores from Miss Harrison’s studio were even smiling politely, but it was one junior who really caught her eye. He was giving her a standing ovation, clapping like his life depended on it, and when she made eye contact with him he shouted over the noise.
“A powerhouse! You are a powerhouse!”
Dr. Robinson made his way back onto the stage. “I think we can all agree that that was excellent,” when everyone chuckled in agreement he continued on. “Anger really seemed to open you up Julie, how are you feeling now?”
“Like I can’t feel my hands.” It was the only response Julie had. She sang. She sang and she sounded good and she was super proud of herself, but she was also done being the center of attention.
“Okay, how about a few observations for Julie about that last time through and then we can move on.” Hands were raised, eager to gain their participation points for the class period. “Yes, Luke, we heard you the first couple of times. Julie is a powerhouse.”
“I wasn’t going to say that!” The Junior put both hands up in surrender. “I was just going to tell you Julie, that you’ve got the talent you just need to own it. And if that is what you sound like when you are so nervous you want to throw up, I can’t wait to hear you when you feel like you are in your element. Own your awesomeness, Julie.”
Julie offered him a half smile and nod before turning back to Dr. Robinson. He seemed to know what she was asking because he nodded. “You can be done now. Thank you, Julie.” And Julie was off like a shot, down the stairs at the front of the stage and up the aisle to her seat as far back as she was allowed to be. A couple of people looked over at her, whispered tiny congratulations, but Julie merely offered a closed lip smile in response. She had done it, and she didn’t have to do it again until November. That was all she cared about.
When the class ended after a couple of the other freshmen took their turns performing, Julie grabbed her bag and all but ran out of the music hall to the cafeteria. That would be a safe place for her to blend into the crowd for a little while. She didn’t have to see anyone, or talk to anyone about her performance until she got back to her dorm room and Flynn.
Julie was too optimistic.
She was halfway through her early lunch of sub-par pizza, above average French fries, a side of chocolate chip cookies and a chapter of Anne’s House of Dreams when someone slipped into the seat across from her. It startled her, without a doubt, but she recognized him as the voice major who told her to ‘own her awesomeness’. Did Dr. Rob call him Luke?
“Hello?” she said as she put another french fry in her mouth. She hoped she put enough questioning into her tone for him to realize it was weird to just join someone without asking, but not enough venom to make him think she was a jerk. It was a fine balance, but one she had come to perfect.
“Hi,” he gave her a smile and began eating the giant slice of cake he had.
Julie pursed her lips and let her eyes roam around the other tables. Did he make a mistake? Were his friends somewhere nearby? Was this some kind of prank? Julie really didn’t have much faith in the American College Student, especially when he was sitting at her table with no warning.
“Can I,” Julie started slowly, “help you with anything?”
Luke shook his head, held up one finger and then pointed to his mouth, in the universal sign for ‘hang on one second, I have to finish chewing’. “I’m Luke,” he held out his hand.
“Julie.” It came out like a question. Again Julie’s eyes drifted to the side trying to see if someone was pointing a camera in their direction. This was just too weird. What normal person just sits down at a table, especially one where the other person is reading, and expects to have some sort of conversation?
“Right, I know. I was just in Voice Workshop with you. You were amazing Julie! No, amazing doesn’t even cover it. You are a,”
“Powerhouse?” Julie asked unamused.
“Yes! But, like, you’re more than that. You’ve got some crazy talent!”
“Thanks. I guess.”
“So, I take it you’re a music major.”
“Yup.”
“Cool. Me too. Well music composition and business administration, with an additional voice minor.”
This surprised Julie. “You’re not a voice major? I thought only majors had to take Workshop.”
“Majors are the ones required,” he emphasized. “But minors are highly encouraged. And I had the free time today. I don’t go every week, especially if people I don't think are particularly good are going to be performing.” He gave a self deprecating laugh, and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut.”
Julie had noticed. Luke’s comments were pretty consistent, no matter the language, vocal range, or tempo of a piece. He had opinions on what would make for better storytelling, what would produce a healthier sound, and no one had managed to escape his critique of the French language yet. It was part of the reason why she picked Du bist . He never commented on diction if it was German. When she didn’t say anything Luke continued talking.
“Yeah, you definitely noticed. Great, there goes my first impression with the absolute wrecking ball of talent that is Julie Molina.”
“I thought I was a powerhouse?”
Luke locked eyes with her. “I believe that you contain multitudes.” He stacked his empty cake plate on Julie’s empty pizza plate, slung his backpack over his shoulder and knocked his knuckles against the metal table top. “Well, I just wanted to introduce myself. I’ve got class now, but I’ll see you around, Julie.”
Julie was so baffled by the situation as a whole, that all she could offer him was a sorry excuse for a wave as he walked off towards the dish return. Time for class? But the next class block didn’t start for another, Julie looked at her watch, crap! , six minutes. She shoved her book in her bag, gathered up her dishes and headed the same direction that Luke went off in.