Char snuck into her allotted desk; third from the front, inside seat. About as middle of the road for the school orchestra as you could get. Safe. Not so near the front that your mistakes were noticeable, but not so near the back that you couldn’t follow the conductor easily.
‘Jack? Do you have the music?’ Char didn’t know why she asked. Jack only played violin because his older sister had switched to flute, and his Mum and Dad seemed to believe that the violin couldn’t possibly be left unplayed as they’d spent £479 on it. (Jack was always keen to tell everyone exactly much it cost, even though that was where his interest in the thing clearly ended. Char’s violin cost £30 from the pawn shop down off the high street. She hadn’t told anybody that particular fact.)