Crescendo in C
an excerpt

“You know, Pamela,” Rachel said thoughtfully as we were waiting to leave the band room, “I was just thinking about it, and I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard you say a single word.” The knot in my stomach returned. I hadn’t really noticed its absence until that moment, and by then it was much too late. “I think it’s probably just my imagination, since we talk all the time-” you talk all the time, Chatterbox Rachel, I corrected in my head, I just listen, “-so would you say something so that I could prove my overactive imagination wrong?”
I opened my mouth, trying to will words to come out of it. A “hi.” A “your imagination is wrong.” Anything. But, of course, nothing came out. My vocal cords had totally frozen up, as they did all too often. I shut it again and looked away, shaking my head sadly. Rachel was staring at me in shock.
“Have you really never talked to me the whole time we’ve been in band together?” she asked. I shrugged. I couldn’t look her in the eye. She was going to be mad at me. I just knew it. “I don’t understand,” she continued in disbelief. “Did I do something to make you mad? I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever said anything to offend you. Do I talk too much? I don’t mean to. I just… I thought we were friends.”
There it was. The dagger to the heart. Rachel was my friend – at least, I considered her my friend. But she was right. What kind of friendship did we have if I didn’t talk to her? I was friends with Jamie, and I talked to her all the time.
She shrugged, putting on a big, false smile. “Oh well, it’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it. I understand that I can get a little irritating sometimes. I’ve had people tell me I talk too much before. I’m used to it. And sometimes I talk when people would rather have me just keep my big mouth shut. Like I said, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine. I mean, I have other friends, you know? I just….” She trailed off, looking at the walls, the ground, anywhere but at me. The bell rung for lunch and everyone began to stream out of the band room.
“I should probably get to lunch. I don’t want to be last in the lunch line. It takes forever to get through and I want to spend the time with my friends.” Her voice was apologetic, but there was a hint of bitterness to it. She allowed herself to get caught up in the rush out the door and gave me a kind of half hearted wave as she left.
I went to lunch with a heavy, sick feeling in my stomach.