Silent Song (Ghostly Rhapsody) (9 page)

“No!” My negative tripped over itself in its haste. 

“It would explain why you were holding his hand,” she went on.

“Look, this is… it’s late. Why don’t you come inside for chocolate and we can talk?”

She didn’t jump at the chance to share girl time, but she didn’t turn away either, so I took her silence as an affirmative and opened the door.

“Hello!” I called out. “Anna and I are here! We’re going up to my room!”

“Okay, sweetie!” Mom’s voice came from the living room. “Would you like me to bring you some hot chocolate up?”

“That’d be great!” I cried back, already mounting the stairs two at a time.

Once safely locked away in my room, I plopped down in the bed and tried to find the best starting point for my argument. Anna beat me to it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing him?”

“Because I’m not.” I sighed. “It’s the first time I’ve seen him outside the school, and I hadn’t talked to him before the theatre project.”

“It didn’t look like that from where I was sitting.”

“Had you been waiting for long?” I asked, worried. And, let’s be honest, trying to curve the ball out of the court.

She shook her head no and we stopped for a minute for my mom to leave us a tray with two steaming mugs of cocoa and a plate of cookies. When we were alone again, I realized it was time to make a choice between my secrets and my friend.

I hoped against all hope that I wouldn’t be left with neither.

“Okay, so, this is weird, I know, but you did know that Keith and I knew each other from before high school,” I started.

“Yeah, from when you wore diapers, according to you.”

“Actually, he lived close by until we were eleven or so, but then he left and I knew nothing of him for the next few years—until I saw him again in high school. By that time, he’d changed a lot and I never bothered to talk to him again.”

“Because he had become Dracula in Drag.”

“Yeah, whatever. Anyway, the thing is… I knew he played music.”

“But you were surprised when Lena brought it up.” She frowned in confusion.

“I was surprised because I didn’t expect her to know and because I didn’t expect her to want to include him in any group events even if she did.”

“She wanted to get back at him for the cafeteria thing, so at least her reasons are clear now.”

“Anna,” I sighed. “I know it was your head against that tray, but do you think it was okay to wait for weeks for revenge? To try to break the one thing he cares about?”

She shrugged and chomped on a cookie, uncomfortable. “I guess it was a bit mean. But that’s Lena for you. We’ve never cared before.”

“She’s never targeted anyone we even knew before.”

“Isn’t that a bit hypocritical?”

I sipped my chocolate, mulling it over. It probably was. I probably should defend the helpless kids that got picked on, whether I loved their music or not. The fact that I didn’t care for random girls crying in the bathroom didn’t make what Lena did any less cruel. Still. “So it is. So bite me.” I shrugged.

She laughed and I could see the tension easing off her shoulders, even if only a bit. “So, were you already back to talking to him by the time ‘the incident’ happened?”

“No.” I nibbled on a cookie to buy time, but forced myself to plunge on before I lost my nerve. “He didn’t know it, but I used to listen to him.”

“Okay, now you lost me.”

“I didn’t talk to him, but we weren’t as…” I gestured vaguely about, trying to explain a relationship that I’d have denied to death before that night. “We weren’t as disconnected as it might seem.”

She waited for me to go on. I tried to gauge how much of the truth I should fit into the answer and sighed.

“All of it” sounded about right.

“One day I just happened to follow him, okay? I was curious. He had changed so much; I guess I wanted to know why. But then, before I reached his door, I heard this melody, so broken and so incredible. It sounded great, and I had to listen. It blew me away, Anna. And it was Keith. The next day, I found myself just walking the few extra blocks to see if he would be playing again, without thinking much about it. He always was, each day different than the day before. I never talked to him, and I know it’s stupid, but I just needed to listen to his music.” The words left me in a rush and Anna stared at me for a second before blinking.

“So… you’ve been stalking him,” she said at length

I winced. “It does sound crazy when you put it in so many words, but…” I gestured, at a loss, and she burst out laughing.

“Hey, what’s so funny?” I asked, half-bothered but also half-glad that she hadn’t run off, calling for the police.

“God, I can just picture you in your high heels and best skinny jeans, crouched among the bushes, leaves getting tangled in your hair and mud getting everywhere…”

The mental image was quite accurate, but I didn’t tell her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked, once she managed to stop laughing.

“I don’t know. Perhaps because I was stalking the weirdest guy in school, and that’d make me even weirder?”

She heard my underlying fear and barked another laugh. “Aww, it takes more than that to split up Team A!” she said, leaning forward and giving me a hug.

Team A. Anna and Alice. That was us, and it felt so good to know we still were the same. I hugged her back. “I was worried,” I admitted.

“No wonder! But I’m glad you told me. This story is even fun! Do you know how I felt when I saw you returning with him? I thought you two were dating and you had not trusted or valued me enough to even let me know!”

“That wasn’t it. I swear!”

“I know, I know,” she said, smiling wickedly and waving my excuses off. “For all your lying skills, I can always tell when you’re being sincere.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’d have come up with a less embarrassing explanation if it had been up to you.”

We laughed at that. I could hardly believe that I had shared my secret, but at the same time, I couldn’t believe how light I felt, knowing that Anna knew and didn’t judge me for it.

Not too harshly, at least.

“Back to being serious,” she said once the cookies and the chocolate were gone. “There’s something I need to know before I give you my blessings.”

I wanted to say that we weren’t dating or anything, but thought better of it. Her face was too grave. “Yeah?”

“Is it true he sleeps in a coffin?”

“Anna!”

“What? That’s one of the rumors going on at school. Come on, he’s
Dracula
in Drag!”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s got a perfectly normal bed.”

“You’ve seen it?” Her eyes gleamed as she leant forward.

“Yes,” I replied before I could think of the implications. I was mortified and she was peeling with laughter. “It’s not like that…”

“Don’t try to fix it, really,” she choked out between giggles.

“Hey, Anna?” I said after a moment.

“Hmm?”

“I’d really prefer it if no one knew Keith and I are on talking terms yet, okay?”

“What a wasted question. I do know what a secret is. I thought you were going to ask something more interesting,” she huffed.

“Such as?”

Her smile turned conspiratorial. “What do the rumors say about the ‘Drag’ part?”

And we started laughing again, so hard that by the time we were done, by the time she went back to her own place, my sides hurt.

Never mind. I still felt better than I had for a long time.

Next day was Friday and judging from looks alone, nothing had changed at all. Anna and I stuck together in our joint classes, tried our best to pay attention in the other subjects, and, generally speaking, ignored the existence of a world outside our own little bubble. The normalcy meant I didn’t talk to Keith at all, and Anna didn’t bring him up.

Then theater group gathered and there he was, hair curtaining his face and guitar bag slung over one shoulder. He came nearly late and stared out at everyone with a smirk in place, as if daring them to try to get him to back off again. I risked giving him a small smile of encouragement, and I think his eyes widened a bit in surprise, but when he entered the auditorium he stepped past me and went straight to Professor Hedford.

Said professor looked like a fifty-something-year-old child on Christmas morning. “Mr. Brannagh! I’m so glad to see you can join us. I had heard that your guitar was damaged during an accident the other day.”

“She was, but still plays just fine. I understand not everyone has the necessary skills to move without bumping into things, so no hard feelings.”

The professor looked startled by Keith’s response and a few of the younger students snickered. I shared an amazed look with Anna.

“Is it me,” she whispered, “or has he just called Jack an oaf?”

“I think he did,” I whispered right back. “I just hope he knows what he’s doing… Lena’s not looking pleased.”

“You know… I think I want to talk to you later,” she said all of a sudden.

“About what?”

“Later,” she repeated as things settled down and we all moved to our spots to begin the rehearsal.

Most people present didn’t even have lines in the scene we went over that day, but still they stayed. Dave and I were having our little showdown in Act I, over and over again, and those who didn’t get any lines in just watched and threw in their thoughts when Professor Hedford called for a halt and asked the group what exactly hadn’t worked.

It was a good dynamic, but that day we were stuck. At some point, the onlookers got bored and either retired to the back of the auditorium to rehearse their own lines or went outside for a breath of fresh air—or for an illegal smoke, as I knew to be Jack’s case.

By the time we reached take five and counting, even I started to despair of ever getting it right.

We weren’t getting it wrong, because Dave and I worked perfectly as a leading pair. We had learned our lines for the part, and in general, the performance was fine. But Professor Hedford said that our problem was precisely that this was a performance.

“Don’t we always perform, Professor?” Dave asked the next time he called for a halt. “Isn’t that what theater is for?”

“For the majority, yes,” Mr. Hedford replied. “Any other year, I’d not require more than a fitting performance from you. But this time, children, we can do something more. We can make a difference. So what I want is not a performance, but a rendition of this particular scene where a marriage that has known nothing but love is suddenly thrown into a maelstrom of mistrust and social scandal. I’d not ask for it if I didn’t know you could give it, so let’s go again.”

I sighed. I didn’t even know the difference between “performance” and “rendition.” Either I needed to look at my Merriam-Webster, or it was one of those theater things intellectual directors liked to say to sound cool. I took a sip from my water bottle and decided it was the latter.

But still, I had to try.

Once more, under the intense scrutiny of what was left of the group, I walked up to Dave and confronted him about the rumors I had heard.

Was he sullying my honor with another woman? Had he dared to shame me so? Dave excused himself, surprised, and said that it was nothing of the sort. Then, he refused to give me an explanation, no matter how hard I pressed him for one. He just exited the room and I was left to wallow in my anger.

“Halt,” Mr. Hedford called. “It was better; we are improving, but may I ask for yet another try?”

He didn’t sound convinced at all when he said that it was better. He tried hard to hide it, but he got that look in his eyes, the one he wore when trying to soothe the bruised feelings of a teen after yet another correction with no improvement.

I looked to Anna for support, but found her focused on something else. I turned to follow her gaze and—

“Professor,” Keith said from his corner. Anna had been looking at him.
What the hell?
I wondered. “May I play a bit in the background while they rehearse? I need the practice time and I don’t think it’ll bother them…”

Mr. Hedford waved a hand. “Of course. You have your right to use the practice time as well, Mr. Brannagh. And furthermore, I think your playing might help us all to relax and get into the mood. Do go ahead, please.”

Keith nodded, and Anna grinned and gave me a thumbs up. I searched Dave’s gaze to see if he understood what had just happened. He shrugged, as lost as I was—or more, since he hadn’t seen Anna and Keith’s strange mental communication skills in action—and moved over to his starting point.

The music started to sound, more subdued than it would during the party in Act II, but still audible enough to weave a mood around us. It was soft, lighting fast, hitching… instead of relaxing me, like I had dared to hope for, like our professor had suggested, it felt as if a giant fist was crushing my throat.

I started to move toward Dave, but my step faltered just as the notes did. He looked up, and I didn’t see surprise in his eyes—resignation, tiredness, but he didn’t seem to find it odd that I hadn’t greeted him, that I was still up waiting for him. His behavior only lent more credibility to the rumors, but still it was hard to believe.