The Secret Songs of D.C. Silverenn

| 15

After rehearsal, Emi drops me off at home before racing to the local middle school to teach a few after school lessons. I want nothing more than to return to the dingy shop where I first stumbled upon the Silverenn Songs. I'm certain that's where I saw the necklace from the photo. But I ignore Silverenn's pull and practice until my shoulders ache and fingertips bear the imprint of the metal strings.

For once, the apartment feels eerily still, with only the sounds of my instrument slipping between the thin walls until every room bears Mozart's music. Time drags past as I drill every fast passage, every shift in dynamics or tone, all the notes I missed during rehearsal. After pulling myself through page after page after page, cementing finger patterns into my bones, it's past eight p.m., and I've practiced for three hours. I stretch my sore arms, placing my instrument down in its case to take a nap, then gather my wallet and phone.

In the other room, I hear the door open.

"Cerise, I'm back," Emi calls.

I exit my room, zipping a thin jacket to cover my tank top since I'm too lazy to change before heading back into the world. Emi places a bag of groceries on the table, mostly boxes of choco-chip chewy granola bars, mac n' cheese, and ramen, though I do detect a bag of salad for "health."

"Ran to the store after the lessons," Emi says.

"Oh, cool."

Emi glances me up and down. "Are you headed somewhere?"

"I was just going to check out that clue."

"What clue?"

"From the box? The picture of the necklace?"

Anger hardens on Emi's face. "Are you kidding me? You need to be preparing for rehearsal."

"I just practiced for like, three hours."

Emi scoffs. "Sure you did." She turns to the table and begins removing boxes from the plastic bag.

"No, really! I practiced the entire time you were gone."

"And somehow, I have a hard time believing that." Emi whirls to face me, tears shining in her eyes. "You never practice, Cerise. How many times have you lifted your instrument for more than ten minutes in the last three months? How many?"

"I don't kn—"

"You're right. You don't. Because the fact is, Cerise, it seems that you just don't care anymore. For a while, I thought maybe you were just incapable of caring about anything. But clearly, you care about this crazy treasure that probably doesn't even exist! When will you stop living in a dream world? When will you realize that you have to put in at least a little effort to get anywhere in life?"

"Hold on a minute, Emi. We've been trying for years, haven't we? We've leaped at countless opportunities and only fallen on our faces. Now, a very unique opportunity has presented itself. It's the chance to uncover Silverenn's treasure. And I, for one, am going to seize that opportunity."

"You know what other opportunity has presented itself?" A beat passes. Emi pants in the silence, anger rolling off her in waves. "This opportunity for our trio. Even if you want to seize other opportunities, don't ruin this chance for Martin and me. And if you want out of our group, then fine. But don't play this game of 'I'm-in I'm out.' Either you dedicate yourself to the trio, or you don't. It doesn't go both ways. Show a little respect to your fellow musicians for a change." Emi storms off to her room. Right before her hand lands on the doorknob, she pauses. "And even if you did practice for three hours, you should get some sleep and be well rested for tomorrow's rehearsal instead of galavanting across the city."