Silence Speaks Louder

The storm had gotten worse.

Emilee and her mother had made it home just in time to avoid the mounting severity. The blunt force of the wind was enough to siphon Emilee's energy completely as she fought through it in the short journey from the driveway to her front door.

After dinner she had finished her homework and then taken out her violin to pick at the strings idly, but nothing had come to her and so she placed the instrument in its velvet-lined case and locked it. She had lingered there on her bedspread as she recapped the day's events, unable to hear the storm raging just outside her walls. Her mind was too full.

Nick was everywhere—at school, at her mom's job, at her job, in her thoughts. She just couldn't seem to escape. Was God trying to tell her something? she thought, half-laughing to herself. Maybe she was supposed to be friends with this boy, no matter how... strange he was. But was that the right word for him? Perhaps she was being too judgmental. Emilee mentally scolded that notion; of all people, she should be the last to toss a generalization on someone just because they weren't easy to understand. He crossed boundaries that she shouldn't have come close to, though, and that was what caused Emilee's hesitation.

And he wanted her to do the school talent show? The thought of her standing up in front of hundreds of her student peers was absolutely ridiculous—not to mention, terrifying. Why would she put herself out there like that? There wouldn't be any point to dragging her violin up on the stage and playing; besides, she hated when a group of people looked at her. No one at school understood her or cared to understand her. They wrote her off as the deaf girl, and that was that.

Then again, Emilee mused, wasn't that what she had done to Nick? 'That Kid Nick, The Rock Star', a person she hadn't wanted anything to do with. She was guilty of giving labels, too. He had given her a chance, though.

But the truth was that, deep in the recesses of her mind, the talent show actually sounded sort of... fun. Somehow, Emilee could see herself standing at the front of a stage, a silhouette beneath the bright lights, her violin spilling sweet notes that she could not hear. Wouldn't it be nice to have a chance to prove to her classmates that she was just as every bit a person as they were? And as her head hit the pillow in the moments before she drifted off to sleep, she contemplated saying yes to Nick's idea.

That next morning, Emilee awoke to a bright glare coming through the window where she had forgotten to pull the curtains completely shut. The sun glittered off the pale surface that blanketed anything and everything outdoors; the storm from the night before had subsided, leaving a heavy white trail of fresh snow in its wake.

And just as she had suspected the afternoon before, the message on the television was perfectly clear: school was cancelled. Snow day.

This was the first snow day that Wyckoff High had had that entire winter, and Emilee was among the students who felt like the break was well-deserved. She was curled up on the couch with yet another book; her mother, who had taken the day off from work, was next to her as she nursed a mug of tea and flipped through the TV Guide while balancing the television remote on her thigh. Multi-tasker, the woman was.

Mrs. Taylor was in the habit of watching TV with closed captioning, so Emilee could understand the programs. "And your wager was $250..." read the white lettering of the subtitles, an old episode of The Price is Right on the screen. Emilee stared at it, losing herself in the contestant's humorous overreactions for a second before returning to her book. The way people completely rid themselves of any shame during their fifteen minutes of fame was entertaining, to say the least.

Her mother was just raising the remote to change the channel at the commercial break when a loud thudding interrupted her. Even Emilee felt it, her bare feet resting on the coffee table that picked up the vibrations. She paused in turning a page to look up.

"Who would..." Emilee's mother craned her neck towards the entryway, looking bewildered. She turned back to her daughter. "Could you see who's at the door for me, please?"

Emilee obliged; she had been sitting in the same position for quite some time and appreciated the chance to stretch. She marked her place in the book and padded across the hardwood floor, fairly curious as to who would be outside on a day like this just after a snowstorm.

She peered through the peephole on the heavy front door, but the glass was frosted over. Figuring that it probably wasn't a psychopath or door-to-door salesman in such cold, she twisted the deadlock and pulled the door open.

Nick Jonas was standing on her doorstep in the snow, little snowflakes all over his coat and plaid-patterned wool scarf.

"Sledding," he announced, not offering any sort of a customary greeting. His gloved hands brushed an icy curl from his forehead as he raised a large plastic saucer in front of her.

Emilee reasoned that the "strange" label she had given him was fairly accurate.

"Um," she said, unable to pick out words. Her eyes traveled to the deep route that Nick had carved as he wove his way through the street and across her snow-covered lawn. Was he insane? It had to be below twenty out, and here he was on her doorstep looking like it was the most usual thing in the world.

Or not.

"What are you doing here?" Emilee settled on asking. Nick shrugged.

"It's a snow day, and I know you're probably just sitting in there doing nothing. I slept in this morning and my brothers went sledding without me. I still wanted to go but needed someone to sled with, so add up those elements and voila—" he indicated the spot where he stood, the knee-high snow pushed slightly away from his legs. "Here I am. I know it's last-minute, but do you want to go with me?"

Emilee sighed. She wasn't particularly interested in going out in the cold, but it would be rude to refuse when Nick had clearly made an effort to trudge all the way to her house.

"Yeah," she answered, taking a step back. The wind blew a dusting of snow through the door and onto the hall carpet. "Come inside."

Nick followed her into the entryway, thankfully leaving the plastic disc on the porch. He pulled his gloves off and rubbed his hands together, warming them. Emilee stared at him for a moment, contemplating her decision and questioning his sanity at the same time.

"Who was it, honey?" her mom asked, as Emilee came back into view.

"It's, uh, Nick." She took a step into the living room. "Jonas," she breathed, as an afterthought. "I think you've met him before. Denise's son?"

Nick's head and shoulders poked around the living room wall momentarily, and he smiled politely.

"Hey, Mrs. Taylor. Nice to see you." Her mom raised her eyebrows, hiding a smile.

"Hello, Nicholas."

"We're going to go sledding," Emilee said, almost hoping that her mother would tell her that she had to stay indoors. But Mrs. Taylor only shrugged, like teen rock stars showed up unannounced at her front door every day and invited her daughter to go out into the snow.

"Bundle up, it's cold out there."

Emilee was at a loss. There simply wasn't a way out of it—she was going sledding with Nick.

"I'll just, uh, get a coat on," she mumbled awkwardly, turning to her "surprise" guest. "Are you okay with waiting here?"

Nick nodded.

"Go ahead." The way his eyes followed Emilee up the stairs made her feel slightly uncomfortable as she hopped up the last few steps anxiously and turned right.

Her bedroom was much warmer than the living room had been. Emilee crossed to her closet, preparing to pull out the thickest articles of clothing she could find. The white sweater she was wearing already would serve as a good base; now, where was her best winter jacket? She found it hanging off the hook on the back of her door. Wrapping herself in the layers, she chose her favorite periwinkle-colored scarf and pulled it around her neck before zipping up her black parka. She snatched her white knit cap off the dresser as she exited her room.

Emilee tried to prolong the trip back to the living room, taking each step slowly and deliberately until she finally reached the first-floor landing. Nick, who had been leaning on the stair railing and fidgeting, looked up as she crossed his path. But Emilee headed to the living room before he could say anything.

"Bye, Mom," she said, waving as she slipped on her matching gloves.

"Be careful," Mrs. Taylor spoke distractedly, her attention on The Price Is Right once more.

Emilee resignedly stuck her feet into her boots where she had left them in the entryway, placing a hand on the wall for balance. Nick stood with his hand on the doorknob impatiently, still watching her in that uncomfortable and almost infuriating way of his.

"All set?" he asked. Emilee nodded and braced herself against the cold, then followed him outdoors.

As she stepped out onto the porch, she realized that there were actually two colored discs instead of one. Emilee pulled the front door shut behind her, confused.

"I brought one for you," Nick said, handing her the red disc and keeping the yellow one for himself. "When was the last time you went sledding?"

"It's been years," she admitted, lifting her knees high to crunch through the thick snow with a soft layer of powder on top of it. "I was really young." They had somehow made it halfway down her driveway. "Where are we going, exactly?"

"That hill on Willow Court. My brothers went to Loren Street this morning, so I figured that even though this hill is smaller, the snow wouldn't be all torn up."

It made sense. They continued on in silence for ten minutes or so; the walk was brisk, but the lack of conversation wasn't uncomfortable. Every once in a while the wind blew a strong sweeping gust, causing them to stagger through the snow. Luckily, Willow Court was only a couple of blocks away from Emilee's street, and soon enough they had reached the top of the hill.

She could feel Nick shifting beside her as they came to a halt, looking over the edge.

"Me first!" he shouted, looking like a little boy. Nick took off in a full sprint, then launched himself forward onto the disc and slid down the hill on his stomach. The sled left a concave indent in the snow, all the way down.

Emilee stood at the top, a hand on her hip and an expression of amusement on her face. She hadn't ever seen Nick this happy. His sled had had reached the bottom of the hill and spun around in a half-circle near a parked car, and he was grinning widely as he pushed himself to a standing position. Something about the air of ecstasy in his countenance was... refreshing.

He was cute, even. But it was funny how such little things could make a person happy. All Emilee ever needed was a few moments along with her violin—and all Nick needed was a simple sledding session. And, it seemed, he also needed to enter Emilee into the talent show against her will and watch her suffer under the scrutiny of an audience of peers.

Well, to each his own.

A breathless Nick finally reached the top of the hill, his eyes sparkling and his cheeks pink.

"I love sledding!" he exclaimed, his words coming in vapor. "Now it's your turn."

Emilee's smile faltered; in her admiration of Nick's excitement, she had forgotten that she was going to have to sled as well.

"Oh, um," she stalled. "How do I—" But he seized the disc from her and tossed it on the ground.

"Sit on there," he instructed. "And then grab the handles. Go on."

Emilee did as she was told. Suddenly the hill they were standing on seemed a lot steeper.

"Ready?" Nick whispered softly, his face very close to Emilee's. She could feel his breath on her cheek. She nodded nervously, and he stepped behind her as he placed both hands on her back. "Here we go."

And then she was flying down the hill, her hair fluttering behind her as she whooshed across the icy surface. She had forgotten how fun sledding was, she mused, as she gripped the rope handles in her palms a little tighter. The smooth sliding across the snow and the rush of adrenaline was invigorating—

Emilee's saucer suddenly hit a bump in the path—possibly a large rock hidden underneath—and both she and the plastic disc careened upward. Unfortunately for her, the saucer plopped softly beside her while she had a more ungraceful landing, tumbling face-down into the snow.

She could feel the vibrations of Nick's thudding steps as he tried to run through the snow, but the ice up her nostrils was more of an immediate problem. She rolled over and rubbed some of the crystals from her eyes.

"Are you hurt?" Emilee saw Nick mouth as he jogged toward her, looking concerned. "Oh man. I yelled something to you about that rock back there when you were halfway down the hill, but then I remembered you couldn't hear it." He brushed some of the clumps of snow from her shoulders of her coat. "I'm sorry! I should have looked before I sent you down that direction."

"It's okay," she told him, feeling her face sting. She wasn't hurt, really—but it was cold, and now that she was all damp from her crash-landing, her enthusiasm had worn off. "But to be honest, I'd rather wrap up the sledding for today." Nick nodded sympathetically.

"Fine. We can go back to my house, it's pretty close." He gave her his gloved hand and she pulled herself up from the ground. "Maybe the roads will be plowed later and my mom can drive you back to your place."

Emilee picked up her sledding disc and tucked it under one arm before following Nick down the road, shaking the snow from her hair.

[&silence]

Fifteen minutes later, they had made it to the street on which the Jonas family resided. Nick produced a brass key from his pocket after digging for a moment and unlocked the front door to his house. He stepped back, allowing Emilee to pass through to the foyer before him in a gentlemanly fashion.

"I'm home!" he called suddenly, speaking to whoever was in the next room. "Oh, you can take your coat and boots off here," he added to Emilee as he hung his own coat on a hook in the hall closet.

Emilee shrugged out of her coat and placed it on the hook next to his, then peeled off her damp gloves and set them on top. She examined her cold, red fingers and numbly unwound the scarf around her neck. The heat in the house was starting to defrost all of her frozen parts as well as the ice on her clothes; the crystals were melting into little drops of condensation on her sleeves.

When she turned around, Nick was mysteriously gone. There were two possible options: the kitchen to the left, and the living room straight ahead. Emilee decided to take a chance on the living room.

It turned out that she had picked the wrong room, for the occupants in here were not the ones she was looking for. Three turned backs greeted her: Frankie, Joe, and Kevin, each with a video game controller in their hands. They were all wearing sweatpants and pullovers in various shades of grey and blue, the relaxed nature of their clothing indicative of their earlier snow activities.

"Hi, guys," she said shyly, not sure if they were too into their game to hear her.

"Oh, hey, Emilee," Kevin replied, looking over his shoulder. He scanned her up and down. "Cool hat."

She reached up and touched the knit wool nestled on her head, having forgotten that it was even there in the first place.

"Thanks. Did Nick come through here?"

"Kitchen," he said, turning back to the TV with a little smile.

Denise was in the next room with her son, carrying on a whispered conversation with him as he leaned on the island counter in the center of the kitchen. Emilee just caught the words "—so interesting, but—" when Nick noticed her presence. He looked up as she entered and quickly shut his mouth, replacing the rest of his unspoken words with a smile.

"Do you two want some hot chocolate?" Mrs. Jonas asked, wiping her hands on a towel. "I just made some for the boys, so I could heat a little of it up if you'd like." Emilee politely declined.

"I'll have some," Nick told his mother. When she shot him a look, he added on to his sentence. "Please."

After Denise placed a mug in the microwave and set the timer for forty-five seconds, she faced Emilee with a very maternal look.

Did he force you to go outside with him? she signed. Her eyes flicked over her son briefly, who was watching them as he fished mini marshmallows out of a bag. Last night when he got home he had the idea to invite you and was pretty excited, but the rest of the boys were too impatient to wait for him this morning.

Not really, Emilee signed back to her, trying not to laugh at the inconsistencies between Denise's probably truthful version of the story and Nick's edited version. I kind of wanted to go.

"Is she talking about me?" Nick asked, holding one of the white puffs precariously on his lower lip with his index finger. He popped it into his mouth.

"No," Emilee lied swiftly, turning her attention to the trails of steam coming from the mug now on the counter. Mrs. Jonas had already retreated to the dining room.

Nick drummed the fingers of one hand on the counter while the other dropped marshmallows into the hot cocoa; he might have been irritated. "Wanna go upstairs?" he asked. Emilee nodded. Nick led the way back through the living room and up the stairs, cradling his mug gingerly. His gaming brothers hardly acknowledged the two of them.

They entered the room where the piano was, and Nick waited for Emilee to cross the threshold before closing the door behind them. His scarf coiled to the floor where he tossed it; Emilee was surprised to find that his lack of tidiness was sort of endearing to her. Nick brushed what little dust there was from the lacquered piano bench and sat, offering up the spot next to him.

"I have something I want to show you," he said hesitantly, reaching for the sheets of notes that seemed to be on the music stand perpetually. "But I don't want to make you mad. I feel like I have to walk on tiptoe around you sometimes... I never know what subjects you're going to be sensitive about." Emilee ignored this, and waited for him to continue. He pulled a page from the middle of the stack and placed it in her hands. "Read it?"

Emilee scanned the page warily, trying to ignore the clenching of her stomach when she saw the title at the top of the sheet: Kindly Unspoken. The words were too familiar for comfort.

As high as the moon, so high
were my spirits when you sang
out my name.
Andwhen coming from you, it was enough just to hear it
oh, it rang like the bells did today.

A space, and then, her own words in Nick's handwriting.

Kindly unspoken,
You show your emotion
And silence speaks louder than words.
It's lucky I'm clever
'cause if I didn't know better,
I'd believe only that which I heard.

When she finished reading, she found Nick looking at her intently, searching for some sort of feedback. But Emilee didn't really know what to say, and he seemed to take the hint. He gazed down at the keys, speaking to no one in particular.

"I can't get your lyrics out of my head," he said, and he looked perfectly helpless. "I can't. Day after day it's nothing but 'silence speaks louder than words'. Silence speaks louder than words." Nick pressed a B-sharp on the keyboard carelessly. "I got a hold of that piece of paper with a chorus on it and copied it down. Then when I realized that the piece you were playing on your violin that weekend I came over to your house was actually the accompaniment..." He trailed off. "Maybe I should just show you," said to himself decidedly. "That would be better."

Emilee's eyes lingered on a grace note on the bar of music in what looked like an intro to the verse he had written. Finally tearing herself away from it, she placed the sheet on the music stand and folded her hands carefully in her lap as Nick rested his own hands on the keys. She was still slightly speechless.

As he began to play, Emilee couldn't find the notes on the page that corresponded with his actions. Was he improvising? Either way, it was something beautiful. It was stronger, heavier, and headier than her original violin composition; maybe that was the advantage of playing the piano. The notes were always a little more... whole with the resonance of the hammers hitting the strings.

It took a moment for Emilee to notice that his lips were moving in time to his playing. Judging by his words, he must have jumped straight into her chorus.

It's lucky I'm clever, 'cause if I didn't know better,
I'd believe only that which I heard.

She longed to be able to hear her words repeated in such a sweet mouth. His voice was good, wasn't it? The amount of their fans should affirm that fact. But there was that intensity she had seen the last time she watched him play, in the way his shoulders were hunched over the keyboard and the creases of tension at the outside corners of his eyes. And she realized that this song actually meant something to him...

The heavy beats were softening as Nick brought the unfinished piece to a close.

"With another verse and an overlying violin track—" he looked at Emilee meaningfully "—this song could be at a level beyond words." Nick sighed. "I know you hate hearing things like this, I can tell by the way your face looks anytime I compliment you. But your lyrics are so.... deep. Complex. Beautiful. I've never been able to come up with something like them. Only you could know how true they really are."

He reached for Emilee's hand the way he had in the school hallway a few days ago.

"If you're willing to give your permission, I'd really like to finish writing this song with you. Your melody deserves a harmony. And then you could..."

Emilee sensed what subject he was about to bring up, as he suddenly flushed and snatched one of the pages up after letting go of her hand. The pencil he kept on top of the piano was flying across the paper, scribbling out notes here and there and then replacing them.

Now was probably as good a time as any to tell him what she had grudgingly half-decided upon the night before.

"I did think about the talent show some more," she began tentatively. Nick paused in whatever he was scratching on the page before him to look up at her.

"And?" he inquired.

"I'll do it."

His eyebrows shot way up.

"Are you serious?" he asked skeptically, but with obvious hope.

Emilee nodded. "I wouldn't joke about something like this."

"That's great!" Nick grinned, looking almost as ecstatic as he had during sledding. He leaned forward to hug her enthusiastically and it seemed very uncharacteristic of him. "You have no idea how good this is going to be for you. You'll be able to show everyone your talent, they won't believe what they're hearing!"

Emilee squirmed uncomfortably in his arms; not that she didn't enjoy being hugged by Nick (because, really, what was there to complain about?) He smelled nice, and he was fairly gentle with her, like she was breakable. But the sudden onset of so much unexpected physical contact was a little overwhelming for Emilee, and she balked at it.

"If I'm going to do this," she said, catching her breath when he finally let go of her, "you're going to help me. You got me into this, and you're going get me through it. That's the only way I will play in the talent show."

"I'll help you, I will," he told her, in all seriousness. Emilee was beginning to see just how important to him her performance would be—why, though, she didn't understand. But now didn't feel like the appropriate time to ask.

They both fell silent. Emilee could see Nick's chest rising and falling underneath his light crewneck sweater as they faced each other. She wanted to say something, to make sure that Nick knew that he wasn't getting off so easy, but the lyrics were running over and over in her head on loop. He was right, she thought, as Nick continued to study her face with an indecipherable expression. The song had potential to be something special now, coming not just from one sentimental heart but two...

"And," Emilee said finally, grasping the vague idea she had just come up with. She smiled and reached for Nick's pencil as more lyrics began to form faintly in her mind. "We need to finish this song... because it's the one I'm going to play on stage. I refuse to play anything else."

She didn't need to look up from the page to know his reaction, for she felt him release a satisfied chuckle as he wordlessly slid closer to her on the bench and leaned over her shoulder to see what she was writing. It was true--with these two friends, silence spoke louder than words ever could.

And Emilee took that as a "yes".