The Secret Songs of D.C. Silverenn

| 9

Water roars from the kitchen, interrupting my concentration. I shove a cracker in my mouth from the crinkled silver bag beside me, wedged between my leg and the chair's armrest. A few crumbs fall between the cushions, joining the others that are probably down there.

"Emi, your tea is boiling," I call out.

Emi exits her bedroom in her oversized sleep shirt. She pulls a toothbrush from her mouth and mumbles, "Thanks."

I still don't understand why Emi brushes her teeth before drinking her nightly tea. It might give her brighter pearly whites to clean them twice, but it isn't time efficient. And if there's anything I know about Emi, she maximizes every moment of her day, from practicing to teaching to buying groceries. This is the one area she falls short in.

Or maybe not. I don't recall her going to the dentist very often, while I need to scrounge up the money once a year.

I blink at the script in front of me to refocus my attention. Have the root turn with the year. Behold three notes to kill the cheer. I flip through a few pieces of music until I find one entitled "Habitual Bother." Setting the folder on my chair, I hurry to my bedroom to grab my viola. I don't know if I'll need it, but I figure there's no harm in having my instrument with me as I analyze this monstrosity.

My viola rests in its case, perched on my bureau. I remove it from its cradle and pluck each string as I bring it to the living room. It's not very good pizzicato since it sounds like four coughs, though each is in harmony with the previous. At least I don't have to tune it.

When I return, Emi holds the music captive across her lap.

"You're continuing the search?" I ask.

Emi shrugs, not looking up. "Might as well."

"But... you seemed kind of annoyed earlier."

"There isn't much else to do around. We still have fewer students and no job offers." Emi glances up, and I detect sadness glimmering in her eyes. She blinks it away, taking a sip of tea. "Anyway, I'm sorry about what happened in the library. You were right about the clue."

"It's all good. No need to apologize." I plop into my chair without thinking. A crinkling crunch reminds me of my saltine snack. I lift the sad little wrapper, tipping my head back so some shards fall into my mouth.

"I guess I just feel kind of silly already pursuing this treasure."

The sentiment is mutual. Part of me doesn't want to get my hopes up, only to be dashed when we reach the end and find nothing. Emi's probably in the same boat, and if we can't allow ourselves to hope, then the only thing left is doubt.

"Play the beginning," Emi says, holding out the music to me. "I want to hear how it sounds."

I pluck the first few notes. A-A-B flat-A-D-C. A-A-B flat-A-E flat-D.

Emi's face scrunches up. "It sounds like a demented version of Happy Birthday."

"More like diminished," I say. "Thus emphasizing the habitual bother of birthdays."

Emi angles the music back to herself. "It doesn't even start on the right note. I'm assuming this piece is in A minor, given the key signature. But Happy Birthday starts on the fifth, not scale degree one."

"Silverenn doesn't follow the rules," I say with a shrug. "Now quit hogging the music."

Emi holds it out again so we can both see it. I point to a spot a few measures later.

"There's your fifth," I say. "She starts the right chords after the intro."

"Interesting." Emi's eyes scan the page. "There are mordents on many of the As in the piece. Those are basically like turns."