Silent Echo (8 page)

In the days following Portia’s near murder of Harold Trotter, Max Hunter was the farthest thing from her mind. OK, maybe not the farthest. With everything that had happened, she was astounded to find that thoughts of him had still managed to worm their way under her skin.

But things had changed.

She had a voice now.

A VOICE!

Whatever careless remark Max had made to her in the music room seemed a million miles away now. Clearly he still felt uncomfortable about it. For days, he seemed to be avoiding any real conversation with her, offering instead only slight apologetic smiles when they passed each other in the halls. Truth was, she was bursting at the seams with it all and thought about breaking the ice with him herself. But Portia was an old-fashioned girl at heart.

Let him make the first move.

Instead she focused on the voice. Every morning after her miraculous acquisition, Portia had mumbled a few words into her pillow, just to make sure that she had still hit the vocal jackpot. She said them, she sang them, whispered and screeched them, bending her new voice backward and forward. Every way she revisited the spoken word delighted her.

After hearing herself, she was absolutely buoyant—totally high on vocal adrenaline. As long as she put the more bizarre aspects of that fateful day at the Trotters’ on the back burner, a luxury she would allow herself for a few days at least, her entire world had just gone from black and white to Technicolor.

Charlotte was notably absent for a bit, but for the first time in years, Portia felt like she knew what to expect from her neighbor. She wondered how long Charlotte would need before trying to slip back into a normal routine and made a mental note to keep checking in with her.

But except for speaking to Charlotte, she would remain silent for now. She wasn’t ready to reveal her new voice—couldn’t imagine how she ever would be ready, especially when it came to Felix. Her pulse quickened at the thought of him. How the hell was she going to tell Felix? How the hell wasn’t she going to tell him? She was bursting with it, foaming over with excitement. He would definitely notice—he usually noticed if she developed a new freckle, for God’s sake.

She found herself avoiding him for the first few days, hiding out in her room all weekend. Between the awkwardness with Max and trying to sidestep Felix, she couldn’t help but feel some rain pouring down on her evolutionary parade. And so she faced an inevitable truth—she had to try to tell Felix. She had to try to ease him into the idea that they might no longer stand on the same handicapped platform that had supported them all these years. After third period on Monday, she began to strategize about how she could do this, until she opened her locker and was greeted by a CD, boldly labeled “Portia—a Song.” Suddenly all thoughts of Felix were erased.

Her heart stopped. And before she even played the CD or read the note that Max had scrawled out, she knew that peace between them would be restored.

“Hey –

I was going to record this even before I made a total ass out of myself last week in the music room. This song was born the minute you turned around and glared at me in Rathi’s class.

The long and the short of it is, Portia Griffin, I have never told anyone the things I told you that day. And, considering how messed up my life is, I don’t feel like I have time to play games. I don’t want us to avoid each other anymore. If I’m feeling it, I want you to know I’m feeling it. Even if you’re not feeling it, too. (Which I hope to God you are.)

I’m so sorry if I hurt you. Forgive?

With crossed fingers and a bleeding heart (what can I say—I told you I inherited my father’s romantic gene),

Max Hunter”

Portia read and reread the message. She could barely maintain her footing as she grabbed her laptop and raced for the bathroom in the library stacks—the most remote place she could possibly think of.

She slipped the disk into the computer and turned the volume up as high as it would go. And then Max Hunter’s voice was singing the words that he had written for her.

“…a current filled with shock and awe

I’ll search for truth in you…”

She conjured an image of his mouth forming these words, of his knee bouncing in time to his own rhythm. His voice was infectious—invading her pores, bringing a flush to her cheeks and a cyclone of warmth to her belly.

And then a verse he must have added after the music room debacle:

And now my words have caused you pain,

But there’s also pleasure to be gained.

I can murmur verses sweet,

Can take the cold—turn it to heat

And then when silence does descend,

Your touch for words in lieu,

I think that’s when my heart will mend

I’ll find my truth in you…

Portia sunk to the floor, her breath coming hard.

Had she actually inspired this…this poetry? It was unbelievable.

The bell rang and she knew that if she wanted to make it to her
Odyssey
class on time, she was going to have to sprint across the school. Whatever. Homer could wait. She had something to do first.

She took out her phone and steadied her hands.

“I’m so glad the romantic gene turns out to be hereditary.”

She hit send but couldn’t wait for him to respond before typing out, “BTW, did I mention that you’re 100%, totally and completely forgiven?”

Satisfied that she had made her point, she sent the second message and raced off to class.

♪

The sophomore elective on Homer’s
Odyssey
would have started on the first day of school had Mr. Morrison not come down with a sudden case of food poisoning.

Portia had been delighted when Felix told her that they’d be in the class together—they both viewed the Homeric classic as the original
Harry Potter
. It wasn’t until she ran into the classroom that morning, though, that she realized Max would also be exploring Odysseus’s journey with them.

She flushed red at the sight of him as he offered her a grin that reached deep into his eyes. It was the first time in days that she smiled back at him fully, holding his eyes and offering him a conciliatory tip of her head. She was absolutely afloat with joy, with Max, with her voice.

“He was about to shut the door, Portia—you just made it,” Felix signed, bringing her back to reality. She hoped he didn’t pick up on the heat in her cheeks.

She started signing back some feeble excuse, but suddenly her hands felt sluggish. She tried lifting them up again, but for some reason they just weren’t up to task. And then, Felix’s form grew hazy. Fearing another odd health episode, she allowed her hands to drop to her lap, closing her eyes in an effort to regain herself. She blinked a few times to bring Felix back into focus, and when she looked back at him, he was already looking straight ahead at Ellen Chadwicke’s dexterous signing. The interpreter’s hands were moving at a frantic pace, though Mr. Morrison’s words poured out like slow maple syrup as an abrupt calm settled over the class.

“So let’s get started, my friends.
The
Odyssey
—real or imagined?” He didn’t wait for a response. “Of course, logic would tell us that there was no such thing as a giant Cyclops or a Goddess named Circe who could turn man into beast. But how many of you have used the phrase ‘between a rock and a hard place’?” Again, no pause for response. “The origin for this expression comes straight from
The
Odyssey
. It refers to the proximity shared by the two evil sea Goddesses—Scylla, who was tethered to a rock, and Charybdis, who would suck sailors in like a whirlpool, making her ‘a hard place’ to cross. We wouldn’t be adopting everyday expressions from a story that was entirely fictitious, would we?

“So for the purpose of this class, I want us to approach these lessons with the knowledge that there just very well may be a whole world of Gods out there, wielding their magic at every turn. Some can enter dreams, some can procure love, and some can sing. I think this will give us all a better grasp on the subject at hand…”

As the lesson drew to a close, the professor announced how the class would be graded.

“There will be a midterm paper and a final exam. For the paper, each of you is going to research a different obstacle that Odysseus was forced to overcome. The assignment list is as follows…”

Portia gave Felix a quick smile when he was assigned the Cyclops. Considering his recent growth spurt, she felt the shoe fit.

“Portia Griffin, The Sirens—”

An obnoxious snicker escaped Zachary Wilson’s unfiltered mouth. “Talk about ironic,” he muttered.

Portia shot him a blazing look, though she, too, wondered at Morrison’s choice—a group of Goddesses whose sole strength lay in the one thing the professor knew her not to have.

“What? What happened?” Felix signed.

“Nothing, just Zachary Wilson being an asshole,” she signed back. “Not worth getting worked up about.”

And then she remembered that it really wasn’t. None of it mattered anymore.

Luckily Max’s assignment was called out next. He had heard Zachary’s snicker and looked ready to pounce. The Six-Headed Scylla would be his topic, which had Portia a bit jealous. Something about the evil sea Goddess snatching up sailors with each of her six heads had always fascinated her in a morose, grotesque kind of way. She worried, though, that Max might not be as excited about the prospect of studying the violent creature, considering his mom and all. But when she looked over, it was clear that he was more interested in ripping Zachary Wilson a new one than the topic of his research paper.

When class was over, he approached Zachary’s desk in a flash.

“Hey, mate, you like laughing? How about I laugh while I beat that bloody smirk off your face?”

Portia didn’t like where this was headed. Felix had moved in closer and was following the bogus apology Zachary was offering up. She tugged on his sleeve.

“Please, let it go. It’s not worth it, Felix.”

He signed back, “If he laughed at you, it’s worth it to me, Portia.”

“No, really, it’s not important. Max is new—he shouldn’t get in trouble because of me, shouldn’t get into a fight. Just grab him and get us out of here before one of us ends up expelled. Please…”

At the mention of Max’s name, Felix pulled back. “So it’s not that your honor shouldn’t be defended. It’s just that you don’t think
he
should be doing the defending, right? Don’t wanna mess up that pretty face of his, right?”

Portia could not believe that was what he thought. “No, it’s not like that at all.”

She wanted to come clean with him. She wanted to explain that something—everything—had changed in an instant. That she could study Sirens from now until the end of time and it wouldn’t bother her anymore because everything was different now.

But first she had to get them out of the classroom before a punch was thrown. Portia looked around the room, relieved to see that Ms. Chadwicke was still there. She motioned her over, signing quickly that she needed her to interpret.

“Hey, Zachary,” the sign language interpreter orated for Portia, “too bad you didn’t get Calypso as your topic. Closest you’d ever come to being held hostage for sex. Come to think of it, closest you’d probably ever come to sex at all…” Ms. Chadwicke inflected the words with the proper sting, despite the blush that had risen to her cheeks.

Portia thanked her, grabbed Felix and Max, and left a belittled Zachary Wilson to nurse his wounded ego.

♪

As soon as they were out the door, Max got a text that instantly brought a grave look to his face. “Sorry—my dad…” he excused himself and hurried off toward the school office.

When he was gone, Portia pulled Felix into the auditorium, dragging him backstage to the sound and lighting booth.

“Sit down,” she signed.

“What’s this about, Portia? We haven’t snuck in here since that time we spied on Jared Weber doing his secret rendition of ‘Defying Gravity.’ ” His mood was already lightening since the almost-altercation.

“I forgot about that! You gotta admit, he does a mean Elphaba—”

“Well, I couldn’t exactly hear him, but Weber definitely gives off that ‘meant to be on the stage’ vibe.”

Portia agreed with a smile, her stomach flip-flopping all over the place as she tried to figure out the best way to break her big news to Felix. She decided to just say it. Literally say it.

“Felix, I’ve changed.” She was so relieved to hear her voice again and wondered if she would ever take for granted that she was now able to speak. A quick double take around the small booth ensured her that no one else was around to hear her speak the words out loud.

“Yeah, I’ve noticed. I mean, you look completely different than before I left—”

“No,” she repeated louder, “I’ve really changed, Felix. Something inside of me has changed.”

“What do you mean? And why are you exaggerating your lips so much?”

Her heart broke at the question. He couldn’t hear her, would never hear her, and the confusion on his face had her second-guessing her decision to reveal her secret in the first place.

“Felix,” she attempted another approach, “if one day, I moved on, if I became like a famous actress or singer or something, would things with us have to be different? I mean, there would still be an ‘us,’ right?”

She knew she wasn’t making any sense, but she just couldn’t say the words. Though, ironically enough, this was the first time she was speaking aloud in public in her whole life.

“That’s obviously a ridiculous goal, Portia. I’m not sure where you are heading with all of this.” He looked at her hard, his eyes unwavering. If he was confused, angry, hurt, he was determined not to let her know.

“Never mind,” she signed.

But the line had already been cast. “What is it? That Max guy? Is that what the big change is all about? Why should that matter to me? You’ve known the guy for like a day and already you feel like you’ve completely changed?!” His mask broke for an instant, and she could detect a hint of something in his eyes. Jealousy? Fear of losing her?