Page 99 of The Other Side of Green

The clatter of feet outside the door stopped the conversation as the other students arrived.

“Ah, here we go, Lyra. This is the perfect opportunity. You step up first, you can be my assistant today.”

She looked at me, wide eyed and I gave her a nod.

“Right, quick, quick everyone, take your seats, instruments out.” Greene organized the room while Lyra still stood in the middle. “Today we are talking about programming.”

Everyone glanced up and Greene laughed. I repressed a groan. He hadn’t changed this lecture at all in three years, not even the jokes.

“No, not computers, your brain. Neurolinguistic programming? Anyone heard of it?”

Everyone shook their head.

“Alex?” He whirled and pointed at Alex who was putting his violin case on the floor. “Give it your best shot.”

“Uh. It’s brain training, isn’t it?”

“Yes, exactly.”

Alex didn’t look thrilled at getting the right answer. Odd for him. He loved being right, like his father before him.

“There are ways to train your brain to behave in particular ways no matter what goes on around you, no matter what is said, or even to some degree to even override what your own brain is saying.”

Lyra was side stepping to a free seat, and I pressed my lips together to fight my smile.

“Why is this important, Lyra?” He spun and stopped her with his question.

“So you can ignore audience noise?” she muttered.

“Yes, but deeper, think deeper. What could stop you playing?”

Lyra’s gaze darted to my face. “A creative block?” she answered as I shifted from foot to foot, heat running up the back of my neck.

“What if you told yourself you weren’t good enough?” Greene turned from her to look at all thirty of them. “Or worse, what if someone else told you that you shouldn’t play.”

“What do you mean?” A guy shoved his hand up. I couldn’t remember his name.

Greene pushed his hand into the depths of his pockets and rocked on his heels. “What if you get a bad review on the first night of your tour?”

Thirty blank faces stared back at him. Actually twenty-nine. Lyra still watched me.

“How do you go out there the next night?” Greene asked, but silence met him. I guess none of them had thought about bad reviews yet.

His attention was definitely on Lyra now, and as a result so was everyone else’s. “How do you make yourself believe that you should?”

Okay, he was off script now.

“Lyra, come here.” He motioned to the center of the room, near the piano. She stepped forward; legs stiff like a robot.

“And your violin, Lyra.” He chortled, shaking his head.

Once she’d returned, he settled at the piano. “Okay. So Lyra here has her violin in her hand, but her ability to play is in her head. Let’s discuss what steps you can take to unlock performance.” He turned to me. “Jack, I’m okay here. Can you go and get the Bach lecture ready for tomorrow?”

He wanted me to leave?

Lyra’s pale-blue gaze locked on mine.

“So, Lyra—” he turned his back to me, refocusing on his lecture, and left me with no choice but to walk away.