Silence Speaks Louder

It was pitch dark in the orchestra room when Emilee un-locked the door. The key the custodian had given her was cold in her hand as she blindly felt for the light switch. Finally, her fingers brushed it, and she flicked it on. She glanced behind her only to make sure Nick was still there.

He was surveying the room with the interest of a musician. Without waiting on him, she began navigating her way through the music stands and to the back room to find her violin. She finally located her case, setting it softly on the ground and un-latching it. She paused for a moment, however, feeling vibrations running from the floor into the black plastic of the case.

Nick had found the piano.

Smiling to herself, she lifted her violin from its place among the musty-smelling foam, and stood. She stopped at the doorway to the main room, leaning against the doorframe to simply watch as Nick played.

He was facing her, but didn't seem to notice as his fingers swiftly moved across the keys, finding notes they had written together the night before. As the procession of music was nearing where they had left off, he began to slow down, searching to find which key would sound right.

He was wrong the first time, the key he hit too high. She watched him as he took a deep breath, frustrated, and started again. This time it was right. Pleased with himself, he lifted his hands from the keys, stretching them out before him.

Emilee couldn't help but chuckle. He looked as content as a fat man after a large Christmas dinner.

Looking over to her, he broke into a wide grin. "Ready?" he asked.

Emilee pushed herself from the doorframe, violin in hand, and made her way to the piano. She grabbed a music stand and set the composition before her. Taking a deep breath, she nodded. "Ready."

[&silence]

First hour was always the worst. For one, it was still dark when it began. Second, it was chemistry, which required actual thought at such early hours of the morning. So when Mr. McDowell came prancing in with a goofy smirk on his face, Emilee knew this day would be the end of her.

"Today," he announced, pausing for effect while scanning the room with his one real eye (the other had been lost in a tragic accident involving pure chlorine and a flirtatious student and had since been replaced by a glass substitute with a reputation of wandering off on its own). "Today," he repeated, "we work with electricity."

Emilee wasn't the least bit subtle when she let her forehead hit the cold, dark table below her. Maybe if she didn't read the words on Mr. McDowell's lips, they would somehow be untrue. She would be spared having to work with a partner who completely doubted her ability to do anything because she didn't posess the ability to hear.

It was a few minutes before a light tap on her shoulder brought her head up again. She expected it to be Mr. McDowell, a scowl upon his face while his lazy eye pointed in the opposite direction, but instead, it was a tall, blonde girl.

"Hey," she smiled. "Do you want to be partners?"

Emilee furrowed her eyebrows and tilted her head to one side. This was a first. "Sure," she answered, quite unsurely, picking up a hand-out with the instructions written on it. The girl smiled again and Emilee found herself feeling guilty for not knowing her name. As if reading her mind, the girl tucked a blonde lock behind her ear self-consciously and said, "I'm Sydney, by the way."

"Emilee," Emilee replied with a half-smile, which the girl returned. "I know," she said, and to say Emilee was speechless was an understatement. Was this girl new? Before she found the chance to ask, a pair of alligator clamps were in her hands and Sydney was connecting the other pair, connected to a small generator, to a small light bulb, the other to one of the two hook-shaped metal rods they had been provided. Scanning over the hand-out, Emilee realized she was supposed to be doing the same.

Once she finished, she looked over to Sydney who was already holding the generator in her hand. "Hold those two rods together at the ends," she said. Emilee obliged and Sydney quickly cranked the generator three times. The light lit up and Sydney looked pleased. She sat down the generator and Emilee did the same with the two rods.

"Okay, so fill up that beaker with fifty milliliters of the distilled water," she instructed, gesturing to the squeeze bottle they had been provided. "I'll go get a teaspoon of salt."

The objective of the lab was to discover if any of the three substances were ionic by pouring the substances into distilled water and watching to see if the electricity passed through the contaminated water to the light bulb. Emilee had done the same lab her freshman year with a teacher who did more with her students than most of the freshman teachers did and remembered two of the three substances were indeed ionic, but couldn't remember exactly which of the three were.

Sydney returned momentarily with a teaspoon of salt and poured it into the distilled water. Emilee, without needing instruction, plopped the two rods into the water and stood back, looking over to Sydney, who began cranking the handle. The light bulb lit. Both girls leaned down to record this on their sheet.

Emilee reached forward for the beaker, prepared to take it and pour it out to replace with new water, but Sydney beat her to it. When she looked up, Sydney smiled at her. "I can get it," she said. Emilee bit her lip, but didn't protest. Maybe this girl did doubt her if she wouldn't even allow her to pour out a beaker of saltwater. But another voice in the back of her head reminded her that it could be common courtesy, that she might be trying to be friends with her.

That voice oddly seemed male, the way she imagined Nick's might sound.

Sydney returned with the beaker and began pouring new distilled water into it. "I'll get the sugar," Emilee declared. Sydney nodded, concentrating on the amount she was pouring, and Emilee headed off to the cart where the cups of sugar, salt, and another salt compound sat. Upon her return, she sat it softly down on the table as Sydney cranked the generator. Half a moment later, the light flickered. She sat it down and began recording the results on both Emilee and her papers.

Emilee grabbed the beaker and began walking toward the sink to pour out the solution. Returning to the table, Sydney was already waiting with more distilled water, ready to get to work.

Sydney's head was bent down, but it seemed she had begun talking. "You have to look up if you want me to understand you," Emilee reminded her. She watched as Sydney's cheeks slowly flushed scarlet. "Sorry," she apologized, keeping her eyes down as she poured the sugar into the water and began to stir.

"I said that I noticed you've been hanging out with Nick a lot lately," she repeated herself.

Emilee licked her lips. She had a feeling as to where this was going, but she wasn't sure. Nick had, after all, surprised her in the end. Would Sydney be the same? So she simply nodded as she dropped the rods into the sugar solution and Sydney began cranking the generator.

"Are you two, like, together?" she asked timidly.

Emilee furrowed her eyebrows. Did people think they were together? Couldn't two people of the opposite sex just be friends? Were they even friends? She didn't even remember crossing that bridge, but she felt that they were closer now. So they had to be friend, right? He definately wasn't thought of as that kid, Nick, the rockstar anymore. So what, exactly, were they? She was only confusing herself and she knew it, but she couldn't let this go. But she had noticed Sydney had stopped what she was doing and was currently watching her, so she automatically replied, "No."

Sydney paused what she was doing. "Really?" she asked. Emilee nodded as Sydney looked away and began cranking the generator. The light didn't flicker and Sydney took out the rods, grabbed the solution, and made her way over to the sink to rinse out the beaker. Emilee took this as her cue to get the other salt compound. When she returned, Sydney was already set up and began to reach for the medicine cup. Emilee handed it to her, and she began pouring it into the distilled water.

"So you guys are friends, though, right?" she asked as Emilee dropped the rods into the water. She nodded and Sydney began giving the generator one final crank. The light flickered. Sydney tucked a blonde strand of hair behind her ear. Emilee removed the rods and picked up the beaker just as Sydney looked up at her.

"Do you think you could hook me up?"

It wasn't a decision Emilee ever made in her mind. It was instantaneous, without thought. With a quick, fluid motion, the solution was all over Sydney's pretty white sweater dress.

"What the hell?!"

Emilee was pretty sure she screamed it and a moment later, Mr. McDowell was behind Sydney, looking wide-eyed at Emilee, whom had never acted so out of character. He gestured with his hand to the door and Emilee didn't hesitate to grab her things and strut out the door.

[&silence]

Emilee lay on her back, facing the ceiling. Somewhere in the room, a space heater was buzzing lowly, Emilee was sure, though she couldn't hear it.

She took a deep breath, running a hand through her tangled brunette hair. She had never once been suspended. She hadn't even ever been to the principal's office before. One act of impulse, and she didn't know herself anymore.

One boy and she didn't know herself anymore.

Who was she? What had she become? Suddenly she was opening up and letting people into her life like it was no big deal. And it was. It always had been a big deal. Because anytime she let someone into her life, they screwed it all up. They came in and tore down the wall of protection she had built around herself as easily as it were a flimsy piece of paper. Because they weakened her. They gained her trust, then completely destroyed her.

And it wasn't fair. Life wasn't fair. The fact that she couldn't hear wasn't fair. What had she done to deserve this? In what way had she offended God so he thought she deserved this kind of punishment? And she was angry. She was angry that God didn't think she deserved to hear the simple sound of her violin, or Nick's voice, or the sound her pencil made when she dropped it on the floor. Why didn't she deserve to hear the sound of a dripping faucet or the sound ,or the sound of windchimes blowing in the slight summer breeze, or her own footsteps crunching the icy snow below her?

Emilee wasn't sure when she had begun crying, but she suddenly noticed the tears streaming down her face, staining her grey sweater. Angrily, she picked up a pillow and chucked it across the room. It hit her music stand, and the sheets of perfectly arranged notes flew around in a flurry of black and white. She grabbed another pillow and hurled it in another random direction. She didn't hear the crash of items falling from her dresser, but she saw the photo frame come tumbling down to the floor, where the glass broke.

Still, she wasn't satisfied.

Standing up, she made her way to her violin and without thought, flung it at the door, where it broke at the neck. But she couldn't hear it. She screamed with frustration, but no sound broke through. Louder yet, she began to scream, falling to the floor and bending her knees to her chest. It was then she noticed she was no longer alone.

Nick stood still in the doorway, watching her with a somber expression. How long had he been there?

"Emilee," he breathed.

She looked away. She didn't want to know what he thought of her. But suddenly, his arms were wrapped around her and no matter how angry she was at God, at herself, at her father for leaving her, she couldn't push him away. She could never push him away.

And maybe that made her weak. Maybe that made her dependent. But at least she wasn't alone. Not anymore.