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🎶purity ring - shuck
"You did not even give the Montgomery-girl a chance to play the role of Giselle", Doctor Petrov sighs into his hands, cupped beneath his nose. My fingers trace the hard wood of the armchair I'm sitting in, the smooth surface gliding beneath my fingertips. Of course, I was called in early this morning, the Beatrice girl having caused a scene with her parents.
"The role of Giselle is of elegance, that girl, is not", I merely defend my case, shrugging ever so slightly. Petrov groans and bring his fingers to his temples, pressing against the soft bone.
"Odette, the girl said she was merely joking in class, and you didn't like it. Members of the board are already worried about your history and your age, teaching girls as young as they are, and then making executive decisions-"
I stop Petrov fast, leaning forward while pressing my hand against the surface of his desk. The cold glass presses against my hot skin. It'll leave a mark, and Petrov will see it once I leave, and he'll sigh with annoyance before he'll call for his receptionist to clean it up.
"Joking? Doctor, she was making fun of a girl's weight, actively bullying", my voice slightly raises, knowing that just outside the room, the receptionist is eagerly listening for tea time gossip.
"Would your board rather worry about my very capable hands than whether this school is allowing space for potential disorders to develop, because of how much money a girl's parents plays substitute for her talent?"
My throat burns slightly from my reaction, not used to speaking louder than usual, loud enough to make sure my point is being carried across. I push myself back into my chair, crossing my arms like a spoiled child, despite my efforts to be seen as mature. Petrov frowns deeply, wrinkles tracing his forehead like the years gone by, thinking of a way to answer me.
I speak up, once last time, softer, tired, reasonable.
"I am a humanitarian, especially now, instructing girls as young as they are, easy to be influenced."
I remember being eleven with Amelié, fingering the pages of fashion and ballet magazines, tracing the waists of models with our fingernails. I remember being eleven and I remember being fourteen and being surrounded by girls who also used to page those types of magazines. Never will I allow myself to permit such an endless space of limits to grow under my guidance.
"Do you think there is another reason for your reaction, Odette?", Petrov decides on an assumption to voice and I want to show him life through the eyes of a fourteen-year old girl. My eyes flash grey, and I wish to be a siren, to hold the power of a woman scorned, that even the gods pity her. Inside me, there is a thorn bush, alive and watered by the poison of life. It reaches to touch Petrov, to leave red in its caress of his skin.
"What could the reason be, Doctor Petrov?", I spit out, realizing that he wants to use the ultimate weapon of logic against me, trying to dismantle me.
"Because if you want to speak about the failures of this school, we can definitely start there", I encourage him, clenching my jaw together as a ball of emotion forms in my throat. The composer presses his lips together, before shaking his head.
"Alright then, you win. I do not know why I even try to argue with you", he closes his eyes, scrunching them together as if flinching from a headache.
"It wasn't a case of winning or losing, Doctor. It was a case of what's morally right or wrong", I state before standing up, using the table for support. The doctor doesn't acknowledge me, but rather, opens his drawer for an aspirin, that he pops into his hand to drink with his coffee. My book bag hangs over my should, my own pack of aspirins burning against me in the side compartment. Looking at the doctor drink his reminds me to take one now, in case my hip starts to flare up again. I open my bag to take out the silver sleeve, but instead, my fingers trace the paper that the boy left in the library yesterday. I take out the folded pece of paper, with its scribbles and musical potential.
"Oh yes. Doctor, you understand Latin, no?", I enquire while sliding the paper towards the headmaster. The older man grumbles in agreement, open the paper to read through the music.
"I can read it somewhat", he tries to remain humble in his knowledge.
"Do you know what the title of the song is? I found it lost in the library yesterday, it's a beautiful melody", I remember the melancholy of the song, the way the song churned my insides when I imagined the music. The doctor hums the notes out, as if he was playing his piano, his fingers tapping his knee.
"It's indeed tragically beautiful, yes. You said you found it in the library?", the doctor asks while looking up at me, grinning slightly with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
"Yes. Well, a boy and I had a disagreement, he was an arse, but it was his", I shrug slightly, wondering why it seems as if there is a joke going about, and I am not included in the punchline.
"It simply says The Ballad of..., and that is it. But I can recognize this style from anywhere", the doctor chuckles while sliding the paper back to me. I pick it up, rereading the Latin and memorising the words. I wonder what it is the ballad of?
"That is our esteemed Bishop Cullen's composition. You said it was an unpleasant interaction?", the doctor smirks as if he won a game. I do not find it amusing, at all. His attitude from five minutes ago seems gone now, hidden in the crevices of humor.
"Yes. The boy is entitled and annoying, and if you think that is what it takes to be esteemed, then you'll be pleased with half of my old company", I remark while turning around, ready to leave this whole conversation behind me, happy that the conflict has been sorted.
"I would have hoped you and your new composer would have had a better first impression of one another, my dear Swan."
I freeze mid-step, turning around so fast that I would've fallen had it not been for my aid.
"Excuse me?"
The headmaster's grin states clearly that this interaction, is a checkmate on his part, a small victory in the hopes of it all.
"I do, however, think you and Bishop have a lot in common."
