The Melody of Silence: Crescendo

by LP Tvorik

  “So, Nathan,” Mrs. Parker said, pulling a paper bag from a drawer in her desk and meticulously arranging her own lunch in front of her. Sandwich in the middle. Plastic container of wilting apple slices to the left. Glass bottle of heavily-sweetened coffee drink to the right. “Why do you suppose I want to talk to you, today?”

  I froze, mouth full of peas and instant mashed potatoes. Buying myself time, I chewed slowly and swallowed. Maybe if I was just honest she’d be impressed with my integrity and leave me alone.

  “‘Cuz I’ve been sleeping in class,” I said with a shrug, like it didn’t matter to me at all and it shouldn’t matter to her either.

  Mrs. Parker took a small bite of her sandwich and shook her head as she swallowed. “Nathan, the school year is almost over and you’ve been sleeping in my classroom since last August. If that was the problem we’d have had this discussion a long time ago. Any other theories?”

  I shrugged. “Grades?”

  She sighed, pulling a piece of paper out of a notebook on her desk and folding it open. I scraped the last of my mashed potatoes and peas off the plate, shoving them in my mouth, and started in on the shitty chicken tenders— little nuggets of salty, homogenized bliss.

  “Yes, let’s talk about grades,” Mrs. Parker said, running a finger down the paper and studying me at intervals over the top of her glasses as she read. “You have a D minus in Mr. Quinn’s civics class and an F in gym, which…” she trailed off, shooting me a quizzical look. “I didn’t even know it was possible to fail gym.” The look on her face almost made me laugh, and I decided I didn’t completely hate Mrs. Parker. “You’re wrapping up the year with a D plus in Spanish, and I know for a fact Ms. Martinez will do everything in her power not to give any student less than a C.”

  “Just a shitty student, I guess,” I mumbled. This wasn’t a new conversation. I’d had it with every teacher. Every guidance counselor. Every case worker. They’d threaten to hold me back like that meant something to me. I’d roll my eyes. Round and round we go.

  My second-grade teacher had been a do-gooder like Mrs. Parker. One of those concerned, motherly types who decided she could tell the difference between a rough-housing bruise and a this-kid’s-getting-smacked-around bruise. She was the first and the last teacher I’d trusted. My little confessional with Miss Lovett, and her subsequent conference with my folks, had earned me a month and a half of peace, followed by the mother of all beatings the day after summer vacation started.

  Teachers are great. They have the power to change lives. There’s just not much a single person, no matter how noble, could have done with a life as janky as mine. It was easier for all of us, especially me, to avoid the whole charade altogether.

  “See, that’s what I want to talk about, though,” Mrs. Parker said, shoving the paper back in her notebook and picking up her sandwich again. I was out of food. All that was left was the little carton of chocolate milk and I slowly pulled open the top and took a sip, savoring it. Heaven. Nirvana. Valhalla?

  “Listen, Mrs. Parker,” I said, setting the milk down and shifting forward in my seat, bracing my elbows on the desk. “I’ve already got a guidance counselor. And a case worker. And a court-appointed therapist. And a parole officer. I don’t need another font of wisdom spewing inspirational bullshit at me. I’m not gonna get my ass in gear because I don’t give a shit about graduating and I don’t give a shit about my bright future. I’m just here until they let me drop out. You seem like an okay lady, so I don’t wanna be an asshole, but can you please bother someone else with your wannabe altruism?”

  Mrs. Parker was a middle aged lady who was about as prim and unremarkable as they come. She had plain brown hair that she dumped so much hair spray in it didn’t seem to move at all, even though she wore it down. Her shoes were ugly, blocky monstrosities, her clothes were a never-ending series of ugly old sweaters, and she brought her supplies to school every day in a tattered old canvas tote bag.

  Mrs. Parker was as vanilla as they come, so it surprised me when she didn’t balk at my tone or show any sign of hurt at my attitude. She just smiled and nodded, taking another bite of her sandwich.

  “You’re missing the point here, Nathan,” she said, pulling out her gradebook and flipping through it with one hand. When she found the page she was looking for, she traced a nail down it, speaking without looking up. “I just want you to explain to me why the kid who can’t even pass gym is ending the year with an A in my class and a B plus in Mr. Gideon’s trig class. That’s all.”

  Fuck

  “Dunno,” I said with a forced shrug, crumpling my empty milk carton in a fist and dropping it on the tray. “Maybe I’ve been cheating.”

  “Cheating takes work,” Mrs. Parker said, shooting me a dubious look, and I caught myself almost laughing again. “So does intentionally failing an exam. I think you just took the easiest route here, and the easiest route was to pass.”

  “I don’t see your point,” I said, trying to keep the panic from my voice. I couldn’t afford for people to be taking an actual interest in me. Mandated interest was fine, because it didn’t take much to shrug off the attention. Actual interest? That meant scrutiny. Scrutiny I couldn’t afford.

  “The point is that I think you’re an intelligent young man,” Mrs. Parker said, closing her grade book. “I wanted to talk to you about signing up for AP Lit next year, and Mr. Gideon wants to recommend we shunt you into the calculus route now that your math requirement is satisfied, rather than let you use the free period for an elective.”

  “No,” I shot at her, shaking my head hard before she’d even finished speaking. “That’s fucking dumb.”

  “Listen, Nathan, I know you don’t want to go to college.” She held up a finger to stall my fierce argument that fuck college, I didn’t even care about graduating high school. “And I know you plan on dropping out. But the fact remains you are stuck with us until the end of next year. Since you have to come here all day for at least another year, why not get something out of it?”

  “It’s just harder work,” I argued, frowning at her. “What exactly do I get out of that?”

  “Well, frankly, I think you’ll enjoy my advanced placement class,” she said. “You clearly like to read, and the books we’ll tackle will be more nuanced than the ones we read this year. Plus, I’m the teacher,” a smile quirked her lips, “so you can continue to be disrespectful and sleep in the back while I lecture. Provided, of course, that you also continue to do the readings and complete the essays.

  “As for pre-calc, Mr. Nunez will most likely require you to stay awake. However, I want you to try, just for a second, to think about your future. Eventually you’re going to escape whatever it is that’s holding you back. I know you can’t see it now, but someday you’re going to want to have a life and a job. This school’s pre-calculus class is a community college credit, which means one less prerequisite if you ever decide you want to pursue an associate or a technical degree. Think of it as an opportunity to get for free what you may have to pay for down the road.”

  Poor Mrs. Parker didn’t even know the strongest case she could’ve made for her argument. It had dawned on me as she spoke, rising like a chorus in the back of my mind so that I didn’t really hear a word she said. I knew for a fact Alex was signed up for both of those classes next semester. I’d be guaranteed at least two blocks with her. I wouldn’t be able to talk to her because of our deal, but I could still be with her. In real life.

  Best of all, maybe being classmates could lead to something more. Maybe if she saw me in a class doing something other than sleep and fail to answer easy questions she’d give me more than a disappointed passing glance. Maybe she’d let us bring our clandestine friendship into the light.

  “Fine,” I grumbled, trying to hide my sudden enthusiasm for this stupid, stupid plan.

  Mrs. Parker’s face brightened as she balled up her empty sandwich bag a
nd tossed it into the bin beside her desk. “Excellent! I’ll talk to your guidance counselor this afternoon.”

  “Can I go, now?” I asked, fighting to keep my own face from showing her just how much she’d improved my day. My week. My life? Hell, maybe I was wrong about the limited reach of one person’s kindness.

  “In a minute,” she said, pulling out her tote bag and unloading a stack of books onto the desk. “Take those with you.”

  I frowned at the books. “I thought we were done reading for the semester”

  “We are. Those are for the summer.”

  “Like homework?”

  “Try not to be so defensive, Nathan. They’re just books. You can throw them all away if you like, although I recommend you don’t. I think you’ll enjoy them.”

  Good thing my backpack was empty, or I wouldn’t have had room. I crammed the mini library inside and zipped the bag up, slinging it over a shoulder.

  “Thanks for lunch,” I grumbled. “Can I leave now?”

  “Of course,” she said at my already-retreating back. “Have a nice day, Nathan!”

  I didn’t answer her. Partly because I’m a rude piece of shit, but mostly because I didn’t want her to hear the shit-eating grin that broke out on my stupid face the second I turned away.

  ‥ ‥ ‥

  As always, Alex beat me to the spot. When I pushed into the clearing she was sitting on the rock, drumming her heels and chewing her lip, deep in thought. She nodded at me absently as I leapt over the creek to the island, then again to the cave beneath the oak. The cooler was stocked. A couple sandwiches, a small bag of chips, and a roll of Oreos. My girl treated me pretty good when she wasn’t pissed off.

  “What’s on your mind?” I asked around a mouthful of ham-and-cheese delicacy, hopping up on the rock beside her.

  Alex shrugged listlessly and I slung a friendly arm around her shoulder, pulling her against my side and rocking sideways until she bit out a laugh and pushed me away. Her hands struck old bruises and I damn near choked on my sandwich as I let her go.

  “Okay, okay,” I said, shoving her gently away. “Seriously, though, what’s wrong?”

  “Just home stuff,” she said, shrugging and lying back. I finished chewing on my sandwich and brushed crumbs off my hands, spinning myself around on the rock so that I sat facing her.

  “What home stuff?” I prodded. Alex always put up a fight and she always buckled with a little insistence. She carried the weight of her family’s problems around with her all day, and it wore her down. I hated to see it, and nothing made me feel stronger than the quiet moments out here in the woods when she’d crack and confide in me.

  “Just my mom…” she trailed off, shaking her head as she stared at the stars. “And Tommy.”

  “What’s going on with Tom?” I asked, suddenly worried. As far as I was concerned, her parents could go fuck themselves. They sounded like shitty people to me and I only cared about their stupid problems insofar as they affected Alex. Tom, though, was a good dude. He got to me the same way Trish did. He laughed when he was happy and cried when he was sad and didn’t understand the bad shit in the world.

  For some reason, people like Tom and Trish seemed to bring out the predator in people. Their good was like gasoline to the flame of evil in stupid assholes like Tim and that little twat Freddy Whitehouse.

  I saw by the hard set of Alex’s jaw that my mental tangent was right on point. “It’s that jerk, Freddy,” she said through her teeth, her fists clenching at her sides. That made me a little conflicted. I hated to think of Tom being bullied, but pissed off warrior Alex had me shifting uncomfortably on the rock, praying my dumbass dick would settle down before it made things awkward.

  “Have you tried talking to a teacher or something?” I asked, already plotting my own solution.

  “They don’t listen,” Alex said. “His dad’s on the school board. Everyone thinks he’s perfect and Tom’s not exactly a reliable witness.”

  “So what’s your plan?” I asked, trying to hide a grin. I favored quick, bloody justice. Alex was more of a dish-served-cold kinda girl.

  “I’m gonna follow Tom around between classes,” she said, sitting up with fire in her eyes. “I’m gonna catch Freddy in the act and film it. That way I have proof. I think I might even pull Gemma into it and have her film while I confront him. That way if he hits me we’ll have him bullying a disabled kid and punching a girl.”

  Freddy Whitehouse would punch my girl over my cold, dead body. Even the thought had my skin prickling with adrenaline and I hopped off the rock, suddenly desperate to blow off some steam.

  “Hide and seek?” I asked, nodding at the woods. “The moon’s out so the light is good for it...”

  Is hide and seek kind of a juvenile game for two half-grown young adults to be playing? Sure. Is it fun as hell when your playground is the forest at night and your opponent can climb trees and burrow herself into nature’s little caves and cubbyholes? Fuck yes, it is.

  “Sure,” Alex said, slipping off the rock. “I’ll hide.”

  “Since you’re having a bad day you get an extra head start,” I said, smirking arrogantly at her. “I’ll count to 100. You gotta stay in the boundaries, though. Don’t go wandering off like last time. That’s cheating.”

  “Are you gonna start counting or what?” She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, excitement bright on her face in the dim light of the waning moon. I grinned and hopped onto the rock, closing my eyes.

  “100...99...98…” I heard a splash as she hopped the stream and the sound of rustling leaves as she scampered into the forest. “97...96...95…” I didn’t bother memorizing the direction she’d run. She’d find a way to double back and wind up on the complete opposite side of our preset hide-and-seek arena. “94...93...92…” now what in the hell was I gonna do about that stupid fucking asshole Freddy?

  ‥ ‥ ‥

  The moon hung high in the sky, casting sharp beams through the branches overhead and painting the forest floor in swathes of silver-blue. The air was damp and warm, with just a knife’s edge of cool to warn of the changing season. That mild air felt thick as chowder as I gasped for air, legs churning, feet kicking up clumps of half-rotted leaves.

  Alex squealed as she raced through the woods with me hot on her heels. I’d found her hiding place within ten minutes, but our rule was that if she managed to slip away and make it back to the rock without me tagging her, she’d still win.

  “You’re too slow!” I yelled between puffs of air, my lungs burning as I leaped over a fallen log in pursuit.

  Alex didn’t answer. She just huffed out a breathless giggle, lowered her head, and pumped her arms, bounding gracefully down the gently sloping hill toward the creak.

  She wasn’t too slow. She was definitely gonna win. I was built for throwing punches, not sprinting through the woods. My girl, on the other hand, was like a fucking gazelle— all long, slim legs and graceful power.

  She tripped and went sprawling just before she reached the creek, and my heart jammed itself up into my throat.

  “Al!”

  I needn’t have worried. She tucked herself into a ball as she fell, rolled a couple times through the leaves, and sprang back to her feet. She cleared the creek in one flying leap. By the time I reached the island, she was picking debris out of her hair, grinning like a maniac.

  “You’re… a fucking… cheater…” I gasped, bending over and bracing my hands on my knees as I fought to catch my breath.

  “How am I a cheater?” she asked, glaring at me in mock indignation.

  “You started running before I spotted you,” I said, stepping closer and brushing a clump of dirt off her shoulder.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “We made eye contact!”

  “You gotta wait ‘til I say I see you.”
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  “That’s not the rule.”

  It wasn’t. She was right, I was wrong, and I knew it. I just loved the string of steel that wove its way into her voice when she was pissed off. I loved the little spark of anger in her eye. I loved all of it. I loved her.

  “Whatever. Are you okay? That was a hell of a fall.” I stepped back, scanning her for signs of injury. I didn’t see much except a small scrape on her right knee and a liberal coat of dirt on her right arm. Pretty standard for Alex.

  She grimaced, pulling her foot up onto the rock and peering at the scrape on her knee. “I’m okay,” she said, lowering her leg and stretching back out on the rock. “I think your poor bruised ego probably hurts more than my knee. Y’know… because you lost.”

  I made a vague noise of disagreement and hopped over to the buried cooler, pulling out the roll of Oreos and bringing them back to the island.

  Alex pulled a cookie out of the package when I held it out, pulling it apart and biting into the creme-covered side while she handed me the plain one. I shoved it in my mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

  “So,” I said once my mouth was no longer full of cookie. “I talked to Mrs. Parker, today.”

  “The English teacher?” Alex asked, reaching into the package for another cookie.

  “Yeah,” I said, accepting the creme-covered half she handed to me. I didn’t eat it, though. I’d wait another round and put two good ones together to make a double-stuffed. “She wanted to talk about my schedule next year.”

  “Do you have to retake her class or something?”

  It was a reasonable question. She had every reason to believe I was an idiot, failing every class I took. Reasonable as it was, though, it stung a little and I took unreasonable pride in being able, just this once, to defy her expectations.