Five Flavors of Dumb - Antony John [17]
I didn’t know whether to be impressed or amused. “That’s weird.”
“No, it’s great. Seriously. So challenging, but it’s like a whole new sound world ...”
He stopped, took a deep breath like he was afraid he’d just overstepped his mark, but I smiled to let him know it was fine. I could imagine new sound worlds. I was totally okay with that.
“Anyway, Mom started giving me percussion instruments to play when I was still a baby, and Varèse is one of my favorites now as well. It’s hard not to like playing the drums after you’ve immersed yourself in Varèse for a while.”
He smiled, emphasizing the dimple on his left cheek. I looked for a matching one on the right and decided I preferred the asymmetry.
“So where are you going to study?” I asked.
Ed’s hand hovered over his rook. “I’ve got an audition at the Peabody Institute in February.”
“I’ve heard of that. Where is it?”
“Baltimore.”
“Seriously? That must be pretty close to Gallaudet, then.”
“Uh-huh. Thirty-seven miles.” He shuffled his rook toward certain death.
“Really?” I was amazed he could put a number on it. Who bothers learning stuff like that? I hadn’t even realized he knew that Gallaudet was in DC. “Exactly thirty-seven?”
He looked away, scratched his forehead. “Um, yeah. Something like that, anyway.”
“We’ll be pretty close then.”
Ed nodded, then groaned appropriately as I ignored his rook and put him directly into checkmate. But the faintest hint of a smile made me wonder if it really bothered him at all.
CHAPTER 12
That evening, Marissa finally IM’d me, and I was so excited that I didn’t even give her a hard time about taking forever to get back to me.
Once she’d admitted that her new school was everything she’d hoped it might be (and assured me yet again that she wished I were there with her), I told her about Dumb, and how they were really coming together. I was on such a roll that I’d written most of an essay when I suddenly realized I wasn’t even sure she was getting any of it.
P1P3R: still there?
MARI55A: yes
P1P3R: what do u think?
MARI55A: you’re joking, right?
P1P3R: no. why?
MARI55A: don’t u find the name dumb offensive?
P1P3R: they came up with it ages ago
MARI55A: and u think it’s a coincidence they asked u to be manager?
P1P3R: YES
MARI55A: ur sure they’re not setting u up?
P1P3R: YES
MARI55A: then why would they want a deaf manager?
P1P3R: why wouldn’t they?
MARI55A: r u serious?
P1P3R: i can do this. i can help
MARI55A: why bother? they always ignored u
P1P3R: they’re not so bad
MARI55A: do u actually like them?
P1P3R: they’re ok. and ed has joined now, so that helps. hey, can u guess ed’s name?
MARI55A: edgard
P1P3R: wow. how do u know?
A pause. A long pause. The kind of pause that’s usually followed by a comment like MARI55A HAS LOGGED OFF.
MARI55A: i just do
They were words, nothing more, but somehow I could feel her frustration mounting with each exchange. I needed to bring the conversation to an end, but I wasn’t sure how. I began to write a question, then erased the words and typed another, then erased that too. Eventually there was nothing onscreen but the blinking cursor and the aching silence of the distance between us—and it was an entirely different kind of silence to the one that had drawn us together in the first place.
Suddenly another message flashed on the screen:
MARI55A: ttyl. xoxo
She logged off before I could say the same thing.
CHAPTER 13
Arranging our first full rehearsal was like scheduling a UN summit, and the process ended with about the same amount of political goodwill. Monday and Tuesday evenings were out because Ed had piano and marimba lessons (cue eye rolling from Josh). Wednesday was a no-go because Tash’s mom’s salon had extended opening hours, and she was required to help out. (No one but me seemed surprised that the girl with green hair had a mom who ran a salon.)