We pile in the beast and journey across town. He's dressed in his Sunday best with hair that wouldn't move in the strongest of storms. It's the first recital of his fourteen years. He hasn't been playing all that long and the nerves have hit just a bit. Families crowd into seats. Students of all ages sit a bit green waiting for their moment. Everyone turns as her wedged shoes clunk down the middle isle. Taking her place she lays her hands to the ivory and begins to fluently roll out the notes. Suddenly, fear begins to rise. Her cheeks flush and her hands begin to shake. The lack of focus fumbles her appendages onto the wrong keys. Flustered she tries to find her way back. Still visibly shaking she takes a breath and resumes her way to the melody once again. He's next - that handsome red-head of ours. Surprisingly composed, he takes his place and with bow in hand tickles the strings in time to the piano. Still a bit nervous, he wipes the sweat from