Requiem

iii.

 

iii.

 

The following Monday, Requiem came waltzing in to Orchestra with a stack of papers in her arms and a marker tucked behind her ear. A piece of Pink yarn suspended a small whiteboard over her shoulder, and it clacked against her leg every time she took a step. I watched from behind Claudia as she handed one of her papers to Ms. Morgan, who read it with a confused expression, wrinkles spreading from between her eyebrows.

While the Orchestra struggled through its exercises, I divided my attention between the girl behind the piano and the woman at the podium, curious about the content of the note.

When Ms. Morgan had finally put down her baton, I began to wipe the rosin off of Claudia’s rosy-colored wood. It’s very important to clean off a cello before putting it back into its case, otherwise the rosin-powder could build up on the strings and fingerboard, like dusty snow-caps on a mountain.

As I crouched to Claudia back into her case, I felt a tap on my shoulder. When I turned, the first things I saw were the most obviously mismatched pair of socks I’d seen in my entire life. One was purple with yellow spots, and the other was grey with cats following each other nose-to-tail around the rim. They could only belong to Requiem.

“Hi, Quem.” I said, standing up. The nickname still felt new on my tongue, like it had a strange shape.

She grinned and handed me one of the strips of paper that had caused me so many missed accidentals.

 

____

 

To whom it may concern;

 

My daughter, Requiem Jones, will be participating in a social experiment for the next couple of weeks. She intends to see how long she can go without speaking, in the hopes that will help her to listen better to the people around her, and help her to pay closer attention to her schoolwork. Requiem has agreed to do any extracurricular work her teachers may deem necessary to make up for her lack of class participation. I have already discussed this decision with both the school principal and the superintendent. Should you have any questions or concerns, feel free to contact these officials or myself at the following number.

 

Thank you,

Abram Jones

 

____

 

Until then I had almost forgotten about what had been whispered to me in Requiem’s closet.

“Is that why you have a whiteboard?” I asked, watching as she happily uncapped the marker behind her ear to reply.

‘Yes’ she wrote, the marker making sharp squeaking noises as she carefully formed each letter. ‘My daddy is friends with the superintendent, and she said that if i write an essay about what I learned I can do my experiment.’

“An essay?” I could feel a look of disgust appearing on my face.

Quem nodded. ‘And my other teachers are allowed to give me extra work instead of oral presentations.’

I just stared at her. I already spent a half an hour on school work every night. I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting more work.

Requiem giggled at my expression, and erased the message on her board with the palm or her hand, leaving a purple smudge on her fingers. She replaced the message with another one.