Page 7 of Echoes of a Silent Song
“And who are you, exactly?”The question on all the students’ minds came, naturally, from the lips of outspoken alto Makayla Barnes.
“I’m Callum Knight.”He raked a hand through his mop of hair.“Er—Mr.Knight, that is.I’m the new choral director here at Peterson.”
Brayden Lee, the tenor section leader, elbowed Jake Ireland.“I heard this one wasn’t even the one they hired back in May.”
Jake’s eyes widened.“Really?”
“Yeah.My mom said they originally hired some other guy but he got a better gig.”
Jake chortled.“This one might not even last until the first concert.”
“Jake.Brayden.”Blair shot them a warning glare.“A little respect, please.”
“Ms.Emerson.I’ll take care of discipline in my own classroom, if you don’t mind.”Callum’s gaze toward her was level, his voice pleasant, but both were underpinned with unmistakable warning.
She stared in disbelief.She’d only been trying to help, and he’d dressed her down in front of the students.While holding the coffee she’d brought him, no less.Howdarehe?
“I didn’t realize you valued discipline so highly.”Her voice was heated but low enough so only Callum could hear.He ignored her, but a muscle in his jaw twitched.Had her point landed?She certainly hoped so.More than half the students were on their phones, and a good portion of those still had their AirPods in.Even the ones whose phones were tucked away sat on the risers, their expressions ranging from apathy to suspicion to undisguised loathing.
Not a particularly auspicious beginning.It didn’t matter, of course, since he’d be gone after this year.
Check that.Jake might not be wrong.Callum Knight might not even last until October.
“Now.”Callum looked around the room, his voice a crisp staccato.“Since all of you seem so intent on running your voices, let’s bypass the handbook for now and sing something.”
To their credit, at least a third of the choir lowered their phones to reveal eyes glimmering with at least marginal interest.
Callum reached for a yellowed stack of music on a table to his right.“Could I have a volunteer to hand these out?”
Thalia raised her hand, and Blair sent her a glance of thanks.Thalia, a born leader and this year’s choir president, could always be countedon to step up.Callum acknowledged Thalia with a nod, and she stepped down from the risers and took the stack from his outstretched hand.
Blair snagged one of the copies off the top of the stack as Thalia passed her, and she almost choked on the sip of coffee she’d just taken.“‘Daemon Irrepit Callidus’?”She peered at her new director.“Callum, really?”
He met her gaze with a level one of his own amid the quiet din of choral chatter.“While everyone else played ridiculous icebreaker games, you may be pleased to know that I spent that time reading the choral handbook from the state activities association.A school this size is required to perform a level four for state festival.”
Blair’s eyes narrowed.“In April, yes.But this is August.”
“And these are the famed Peterson Madrigals,” he replied with a smirk.“I’ve heard good things.I believe they’ll rise to the challenge.”
While she had to admire the director’s faith in the ensemble, and while it was true that the Peterson Madrigals likely could have handled a piece like “Daemon” in their glory days, those glory days were long gone, and she highly doubted Callum Knight could bring them back.
Pulling in a breath, she settled back at the piano bench and steeled herself for the impending train wreck, which was putting it mildly.Within ten minutes Callum’s cheeks above his stubble were stained a deep crimson, sweat dotted his forehead, and the muscle in his jaw twitched wildly.At least half the kids had given up and checked out, and the ones who still tried gave a frustrated sigh as Callum cut them off.
“Altos.You missed your entrance.Again.”
“I’m sorry, Mr.Knight.”Makayla’s cheeks were flushed with anger and embarrassment.
“Sorry isn’t good enough,” Callum snapped.“Good enough is good enough.”
Makayla’s eyes widened, then filled with tears.Makayla normally kept her emotions reined in, but “not good enough” was her Achilles’ heel.The girl’s father was a raging perfectionist—a cardiothoracic surgeon at Peterson General—and nothing she did ever measured up.Blair had spent the last two years trying to convince Makayla of her talent, to help her see the beauty of her gorgeous alto voice with its velvety tone and natural vibrato.
All that work over all that time, and this pompous blowhard had just undone a fair bit of it.
As calmly as she could, Blair stood from the piano and leaned toward Callum.Twin whiffs of coffee and cologne greeted her.“Mr.Knight.”
“Yes?”
“A word, please.”She jerked her head toward the office.
