Three Strings Before Eight

Jessamy stands in the doorway of the Starlight Roller Rink. The hall glows pink and blue. A mirror ball turns above the floor. Fifty skaters roll round and round to loud music.

She holds a violin case under one arm. Her friend Ulla waits at the rail in bright yellow skates. She waves both hands.

"You're here!" Ulla shouts. "The big clock says seven forty. We have twenty minutes."

"I know," says Jessamy. "I ran all the way."

At eight o'clock, the manager turns the lights low. Then everyone skates to one last song. This year, the last song has a live violin. Jessamy is the violinist. She knows the tune by heart. It took her a month to learn it.

She finds a quiet corner by the snack bar. She opens the case and takes out her violin. Then she stops. Something is wrong.

"Ulla," she says in a small voice. "Look."

The thinnest string is gone. It hangs in a curl from the top. Only three strings are left.

"It snapped on the bus," says Jessamy. "The case was too tight. I did not check it."

Ulla looks at the clock. Seven forty-two. "Do you have a new string?"

"Yes. In my bag. I left it in locker sixty-one this morning, after rehearsal. The key is in my pocket." Jessamy points across the floor. The lockers are in a long room behind the far wall.

"Okay," says Ulla. "That is not so far."

It is far. The whole skating floor is between them and the lockers. All the skaters go in one direction, in one big circle. The rule is very clear. Nobody crosses the floor.

"I'll go around the edge," says Jessamy.

She puts the violin back in its case and holds it tight. Then she goes along the wall. At first it is easy. Then a group of children comes round in a long line. They hold hands and shout. Jessamy stops and waits.

Then a boy falls in front of her. His friends laugh and help him up. It takes a whole minute. Jessamy looks at the clock over the DJ booth. Seven forty-seven.

She gets past the children. Then she meets a group of slow couples in the corner. They spin and turn. Jessamy cannot get past them at all.

Ulla skates up beside her, fast and smooth. "This is too slow," she says. "We need another way."

"There is no other way," says Jessamy. Her voice shakes. "The rink is a circle. The lockers are on the far side."

Ulla thinks. She taps her chin. Her eyes go wide. "Wait. I work at the snack bar on Sundays. There is a back hall behind the kitchen!"

"A back hall?"

"Yes! The workers use it to carry boxes of ice and cups. It goes all the way around behind the wall. It comes out right next to the lockers!"

Jessamy stares at her. "Is it open?"

"Of course it is open. Come on!"

Ulla pulls off her skates in two seconds. She runs in her socks across the tiles. Jessamy follows with the violin case. They push through the kitchen door. A cook looks up, surprised.

"Sorry!" Ulla shouts. "Emergency!"

"Is it a fire?" the cook shouts back.

"It's a violin!" says Jessamy, and they are gone.

The back hall is narrow and cold. Boxes stand along the wall. One has the word "Ice" in big letters. The music of the rink is soft and far away now. Their feet slap on the floor. They run past a door, then another door, then a mop.

At the end of the hall, a green door is closed. Ulla pushes it with her shoulder. It opens, and they fall into the locker room. The smell of rubber and old shoes hits them.

"Sixty-one!" says Jessamy. She runs along the row. Ulla reads the numbers. "Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty. Here!"

Jessamy opens the locker and pulls out her bag. Her hands shake. She finds the small paper bag of strings and tears it open. The new string is bright and thin.

She sits on a bench and starts. First she pulls the string through the hole in the peg. Then she turns the peg slowly. The string is long and loose. It goes up, up, and up.

"What time is it?" Jessamy asks.

Ulla runs to a clock on the wall. "Seven fifty-six!"

"Four minutes," says Jessamy. She does not look up. "A new string always goes flat. I must tune it three times."

"Then do it fast," says Ulla. "I will hold the neck."

Ulla holds the violin steady. Jessamy tightens the new string and plays the note. It is too low. She turns the peg and plays again. Now it is too high. Ulla bites her lip. Jessamy turns it back a little. Then the note rings clear and true.

"Good," says Jessamy. She stretches the string between two fingers, then tunes again. It is nearly perfect. Then she does it one last time.

"Seven fifty-nine," says Ulla. "Go, go, go!"

They run back along the narrow hall. The boxes of ice flash by. Jessamy hears her own breath. They burst through the kitchen door. The cook sees them and lifts a spoon, like a flag.

In the hall, the music stops. The lights go low. Fifty skaters stop in the dim glow and look up. The manager stands in the middle of the floor. He holds out a hand to Jessamy.

The big clock above the DJ booth shows eight o'clock exactly.

Jessamy walks to the middle of the floor in her shoes. Ulla follows in her socks on the shining wood. Jessamy steps into the soft light. She lifts the violin to her chin. She raises the bow and plays the first note.