Page 82 of Echoes of a Silent Song
His acceptance letter.He’d been carrying it around with him.Not that I blamed him.I would’ve been too, had I gotten one.
But the handwriting on the back of the letter ...I hadn’t noticed that before.
I squinted to read the scribbly, scrawly handwriting.
Mr.Nelson—I wanted to take a moment to personally congratulate you on writing such a fine piece for our consideration.In my twenty-two years at Whitehall, I have never come across an audition piece written at such a high level.To be quite frank, “I Am My Beloved’s” exhibits a brilliance we rarely see even from our graduate-level students, and to find it in a high school student with no formal training is quite extraordinary.I am excited to help nurture and develop such a remarkably gifted individual, and I look forward to meeting you this fall.Congratulations on your acceptance.Wonderful things are ahead of you.
Cordially,
R.M.Hochsteiner, Professor of Theory and
Composition
I stared at the letter.I stared and stared and stared.
That wasmypiece this professor was talking about.“I Am My Beloved’s.”
I wrote that.
A brilliance we rarely see ...
Quite extraordinary ...
A remarkably gifted individual ...
Wonderful things are ahead ...
Professor R.M.Hochsteiner thought he’d written those things about Victor Nelson.
But he hadn’t.
He’d written them about me.
That piece with Victor’s name ...should have hadmyname.
That spot at Whitehall that belonged to Victor ...should have belonged to me.
The audition piece I’d sent under my own name hadn’t been my best work.But this was.
And not only was it my best, it was brilliant.
The restroom door squeaked open.I shoved the letter back in place, and by the time Victor’s shoes appeared on the black-and-white tile floor, I’d nearly finished the last of my clean-up job.
“What are you doing, Iris?”he asked.
“I knocked everything on the floor by accident.I’m sorry, Victor.”
He had a blank, dead-fish look in his eyes, but the second they met mine, they brightened.“No need to apologize.Accidents happen.”
“I was just checking one of my math answers against yours, since you’re so brilliant at math.”I probably didn’t need to flatter him, but I’d learned to err on the safe side.
Sure enough, it worked, and his dimple deepened.“Did you get it right?”
“I did.”I waved an imaginary cheerleader’s pom-pom.
“Good job, Iris.”He slid into the booth and returned to his homework like nothing in the world had happened.
And for him, nothing had.
