{part 16}
Katya, you seemed to enjoy going to that last poetry concert. And who wouldn't have enjoyed such an amazing display of talent in the final poem? But this time you're going to have to do something a little more towards your guardian's tastes. He needed to take you to something musical. It can be a jam session, a bum on the street with a guitar, a symphony, it doesn't matter. But someone in this musical gathering needs to suck. Badly. You need to sit through a series of songs or performances, and let your guardian know what you think of each.
It was a normal afternoon, as afternoons went. Darry and Katya were wandering in the park, wondering what to do with themselves. Respectively, Katya should've been in preschool and Darry at work, but they didn't worry themselves with details. It was Darry who heard the sound of the violin, and patiently dragged Katya along with him to find the source.
"S'pretty," Katya said grudgingly, antennae twitching. Darry nodded, head tilted to one side as he listened to the sad notes of the violin.
"Yeah. Hey, lookit that..."
The park was a very popular place, and with the days turning warmer it attracted street performers to coax dollars and change out of passerby. In the middle of the park, roosted in front of a pigeon-splattered fountain, was a group of people. They all had instruments, and they were all performing.
"Huh. It's like...a street performer convention or some s**t like that," Darry said, nodding his approval. They stopped in front of the violinist first, listening to the plaintive song. The violinist was a slight young man with an unmistakably arrogant air, but the music he created was beautiful enough to gloss over his unsavory personality.
"What d'you think, Katty?" Darry asked when the song was over. "You like it?"
"I nev' heard anythin' like that b'fore," Katya said, blinking in slight astonishment. "Tha' was...tha' was good."
They wandered next to a percussionist who used assorted plastic buckets and metal pots and pans as his instruments. The clamor was fantastic and had an unmistakable rhythm, achieving tones and patterns normal drums could only wish for. Darry watched as Katya spun around in angry circles, wings thumping against her back.
"Are you dancing?" he asked after a while. She looked up at him, unexpectedly delighted.
"Yeah," she said, laughing. "He's real, real good, ain't he?"
"I'd say so, yeah."
After the percussionist finished, Katya looked around eagerly and skittered towards another performer. It was a pretentious looking teenage girl with a pennywhistle, who ignored Katya as the child stood and stared expectantly at her.
Then the girl raised the pennywhistle to her lips and started to play.
Katya gave a strangled shriek, but the sound was lost underneath the horrible din the pennywhistle belched out. The girl, for all her faux-art student airs, couldn't play a tune on the wretched thing to save her life. The pennywhistle gave tormented shrieks as the girl attempted to play a Celtic air, her eyes firmly closed so she couldn't see the expressions on her audience's faces.
Katya, her hands clapped over her ears, gave Darry an indignant look. He was too busy wincing and making a face as though he'd bitten into a rotten lemon to notice. Katya gave an angry harrumph, and stalked towards the girl. Clearly, if no one else was going to stop this monstrous creature from ruining the GOOD music, it was up to her and her alone.
And she did so by sharply kicking the girl in the shin, snatching up the pennywhistle as she dropped it, and taking off through the park as though she was an Olympic sprinter.
"Katya!"
"GIVE ME BACK MY FLUTE YOU BRAT-"
Katya ran through the park, wings beating hard and giving her the tiniest bit of lift as she hurdled dogs and small children, her eyes set on her goal. The pennywhistle was clutched in a deathgrip to her chest, and she used it like a club to ward off anyone who tried to stop her.
Finally, she skidded to a halt. Out of breath, she looked up defiantly at the girl she'd stolen the pennywhistle from, and spit contemptuously on the ground.
"You," Katya said, "Are not 'lowed to play moosik ever, ever again."
Ignoring the girl as she screamed and cursed, Katya turned on her heel and drew her arm back, and threw the pennywhistle like a javelin into the park's duck pond. It landed with a glorious splash, and the girl jumped into the bird-befouled water with shrill curses. Darry, walking up beside Katya and watching as the girl was attacked by an angry swan, glanced down at Katya.
"So. I'm guessing you didn't like her as much as the others."
Katya wrinkled her nose, glaring up at Darry.
"She sucked."
"Language, Katya."
"Well iss TRUE."
