Withtimerunningout,theytorethebasslihethree“boss-level”songsisandbuiltthemostprecisetrainingpnpossible:setthemetroo60,folyht-handmeics—thumbstrikespandindex-fingerpullpop—untileverynotecameoutwiththegrainybiteofametalhammerhittingsteel.

        “Thisweek,don’tpysongs.”heendofthehour,TeacherCailookedatCra’srightthumb—alreadyswelling,alreadyhotandred—andhandedherarollofbreathableathletictape.“Gohomeafirst.Iftheskinbreaks,tapeitandkeeppractig.Ohenewcallusgrowsin,yoursoundwillge.”

        ---

        8:30p.m.

        Crawalkedoutoftheinstrumentshopwiththeheavybassonherback.

        Anearly-autumnnightbreezemovedthroughXimending.Herrightthumbthrobbedfaintly—butbehindherlenses,hereyesshhtnessshe’dneverhadbefore.

        Scestudentsweren’tafraidofchallehaformu.

        Nowthatshe’dfouhod—thewaytotrainmusclememory—whatremainedwasonlytime,yeredontopofwillpower.

        Twomonthsfromnow,shewouldmakethoseseniorsuandwhat*absolutelowend*reallymeant.

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