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By Root 410 0

away and was illuminated by shafts of gossamer light; more rarely, it would all go dark and she would be left shivering and fearful, though of nothing she could identify or explain. Then in seventh grade, hope arrived in the form of a new music teacher named Sister Mary Michael, a relatively young and pleasant-looking recruit. For the first few days of school, Maria admired the new sister from afar and looked forward to impressing her with a song. She had listened to enough children—and worse, adults—to know that most were miles away from the notes, even when singing simple melodies. But on the first day of music class, Maria discovered that Sister Mary Michael, despite her cheerful demeanor, was as tone-deaf as anyone she had ever heard, except even worse because unlike more modest souls, the sister seemed to have no idea how far off she was. She began the class by butchering one of Maria’s favorite hymns, “Tell Us Now, O Death,” in a monotone so flat and cavernous it almost knocked the wind out of Maria.

It occurred to Maria that she might impress the nun by offering to sing it herself, so that her teacher could perhaps hear the difference. The sister took this suggestion in exactly the wrong way: “Are you saying something’s wrong with my singing?”

“No, Sister.” Maria shook her head, regretting that she had ventured to raise her hand. “It’s just that—” Maria stopped, knowing she was trapped.

“Please … continue.”

“I—I don’t know.”

Sister Mary Michael’s smile froze on her face and she extracted a ruler from her sleeve with a deft agility that left the other children gasping in fear and delight at the anticipated flogging of Morticia. The nun shushed them before she addressed Maria: “Perhaps you’re right—you should demonstrate how it’s done.”

Maria felt tears running down her face, but it was too late to back down.

“Come up to the front of the class, where everyone can see you.”

As Maria sang, she was not at St. Anne’s in Castle Shannon but in a small village in the mountains of Europe, where she saw Saint Agnes of Bohemia leaving the convent on her way to tend the lepers. In response to this devotion, Maria filled her song with hope and purity; Saint Agnes in turn nodded at Maria before she went into the hospital, a gesture of reassurance that gave Maria the strength to finish the song—“Deadly whisper in my ear, finally my time has come”—with a quiet insistence entirely appropriate for this small but significant performance.

Maria opened her eyes to find Sister Mary Michael scowling at her, obviously less touched than Saint Agnes of Bohemia. “Thank you, Maria,” Sister Mary Michael said not even one second after Maria had finished, ruining the tranquillity of the moment. “Now you can please leave for the principal’s office.”

“Why?” Maria turned to her, crestfallen that the sister was not basking in the proffered glory.

“That you even have to ask shows how much you have to learn.” The sister addressed the other students, who, sensing bloodshed, leered at Maria. “While this is indeed a music class, it is, like all of our classes, foremost about respect and working together.” She returned to Maria. “Now go.”

Maria felt as if she were being lowered into a cauldron of boiling lava, her flesh burning from her body in great scalded chunks, except unlike a saint, she felt no love or forgiveness as she retrieved her books from her desk and glared at every student before she arrived back at Sister Mary Michael, who now stood next to the blackboard. “This is fucking bullshit,” Maria declared as she reached the doorway. Though she addressed nobody in particular, there was no mistake, thanks to her excellent diction, about what she had said; it was loud enough that it surprised even her, for she had never said the word fucking or bullshit to anyone, let alone a nun.

In response, Sister Mary Michael wielded the dreaded ruler high overhead in one hand and took three quick steps with the obvious intent to grab or perhaps slay Maria, who twisted away with enough force to cause the sister to spin into a quick but indelicate pirouette