Page 17 of Echoes of a Silent Song
“Well, you’re not so bad,” Blair replied.
“That’s because I’m a teacher, not a conductor.And Gollum over there?”Joy jerked her head toward the far exit, where Callum’s car was pulling out of the parking lot.“He is definitely aconductor.”
Chapter Seven
September 1969
THERE.FINALLY.The assignment for music theory was done.I tore it from my spiral notebook of manuscript paper.Oops.Almost forgot to put my name on it.That would’ve been a silly ten points to lose.With a flourish, I scribbled my name in the upper right-hand corner, then walked to the front and put the assignment in the wire basket on Mr.Gilbert’s desk.He glanced up, brows arched over his black plastic glasses.Small wonder, since there were still twenty minutes before the bell.Everyone else still hunched over their desks, pencils dancing.
“Thank you, Iris,” Mr.Gilbert said.“Just find something else to work on until the end of class.”
With pleasure.Trying not to smile, I practically skipped back to my spot, then flung myself into my seat, and turned in my notebook to the thing I really cared about.The piece that had invaded two days ago and taken me over body, mind, and soul.The melody God sent had filled my heart, my head, almost to the point of making it impossible to finish that theory assignment.
But I’d finally finished, and I had twenty minutes—twenty precious minutes—to devote to my own music.Thank you, God.My pencil scratched across the page.My hand trembled, frantic to keep up with the stream of notes in my heart.Composing was sometimes like this for me.The music seemed to exist outside space.Outside time.It was like God had held it there, fully formed, and chose me to bring it into theworld.I’d feel him watching me, beaming as I scribbled notes onto the paper, bringing the music to life.I’d feel his joy as I composed.Writing music was an honor.
But if I was being brutally honest, sometimes the pressure of the melody, the urgency to get it out of me ...sometimes it felt like a bit of a curse too.
The phrase ended, and the melody was kind enough to pause so I could sketch out a few harmonies.Just to remind myself what I heard.Bare bones now, but I could fill them in later.Harmony was far more patient with me, but Melody stood there, arms crossed, foot tapping, eager to share more with me.
One second, Melody.Harmony needs my attention for a bit.Just need to fill in these—
“I thought we weren’t supposed to use parallel fifths.”
A voice interrupted the music.A shadow fell across my desk.The chords in my head shattered, almost audibly.My neck grew hot, and my heart leaped into my throat.
Victor stood at my desk, his gaze fastened on my paper.My notes.My melody.My harmony.
I flung my arm across the composition.Had the lunch bell already rung?It must have, since the other students were gathering their things and heading toward the door.
How long had he been standing there?How much had he seen?
“That’s some incredible voice leading, though.”He seemed undaunted.He slid into the desk next to mine, his eyes fixed on the spot my arm hadn’t covered.He kept his volume low.“I love what you’re doing in the alto line.That E-flat major chord ...it’s beautiful.”
“Oh, it’s just ...this is ...it’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing.”Victor reached over and touched my paper.Touchedit.
My grip tightened.“Please don’t touch that.”
Victor’s long, slender fingers slid off my paper and I could breathe again, but he didn’t angle away.He was so close I could feel the warmth of his body.Smell whatever aftershave he used.It was strong—all scents were—but not unpleasant.
“Is this part of our assignment?”He grinned at me.“Because if that’s the case, then I really screwed mine up.”
The grin disarmed me.Teased out one of my own.“No, this isn’t ...it’s not ...”
“Wait, is that your own work?Something original?”
My face flamed.I really, really didn’t like talking about my music with anyone.Especially not anyone at school.
“It’s not your business.”
He leaned in closer and darted his gaze around the room.When he spoke, his voice was lower.Almost whispery.
“I apologize if I came on too strong, Iris.I only asked because”—he palmed the back of his neck—“I compose too.”
I laughed.Just a little bark of laughter and probably a rude one, but he deserved it for invading my space like that.For looking at my work.
“I’m serious.”His eyes turned earnest.Pleading, almost.It did strange things to my insides.“I write music all the time.Whenever I get the chance.You should see what I scribbled across the top of our last math assignment.”That grin again.
