Eventown by Corey Ann Haydu

Author:Corey Ann Haydu
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-01-07T16:00:00+00:00

22

The Eventown Anthem

“What do you think we’ll play in music today?” I ask Veena on our way into class that Thursday.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“What other songs do you guys know?”

Veena tilts her head and her forehead scrunches. She opens her mouth to answer, but before she can, Betsy and Naomi come up behind us, giggling about who knows what. Betsy and Naomi have been giggling together a lot. I don’t mind it, I guess, but I’m used to being the main person Naomi giggles with.

“What’s so funny?” I ask.

Betsy doesn’t answer. She just keeps giggling.

“I’ll tell you later,” Naomi says. But I don’t think she will. She’ll forget or tell me it’s not important, and I’ll pretend I don’t think it’s important either. But I’ve noticed lately the way she beams bigger at Betsy than she does at me. And the way she’s started wearing her hair like Betsy’s, too, a center part and a shiny barrette on each side holding the front pieces back.

“Is Betsy your new twin?” I asked her this morning, when she was making sure the pink clips were even.

“Of course not!” she said. “You’re my only twin. But isn’t Betsy awesome?”

I mm-hmmed. And I meant it.

Mostly.

Mr. Fountain directs us to our instruments, and the music on our music stands is “The Eventown Anthem” again. It’s the only song we’ve played for the three weeks we’ve been here. I do love the way we all sound playing it, so I chime my triangle with gusto the first time through.

And the second time through.

The third too. The anthem sounds like a brook, like a wood nymph running through the forest, like wind chimes. It’s light and quick and perfect for the triangle.

“Again!” Mr. Fountain says when we’ve finished the third time.

“Again!” Mr. Fountain says, and we start up again. The melody is the kind that attaches to your brain and doesn’t let go, so I know I’ll be humming it as I make dinner, as I try to bake my special cake again, as I try to fall asleep later tonight.

Naomi is serious at her cymbals, and even the xylophones sound sophisticated and sweet.

After the fifth time, I raise my hand.

“What song are we playing after this one?” I ask. “I think Naomi and I can try to catch up with your other songs too.” I look to Naomi for confirmation and she nods eagerly.

“What do you mean?” Mr. Fountain asks. He scratches his beard. His bushy eyebrows draw toward each other.

“What other songs do you guys play? Aside from ‘The Eventown Anthem’?”

The room goes very, very quiet. Mr. Fountain clears his throat and wrings his hands.

“Let’s talk after class, girls,” he says.

“I mean, we love the anthem! But we’re happy to learn anything. We both love our instruments, so we want to try them on different—”

“After class,” Mr. Fountain says. It isn’t mean, not like Mrs. Jones was when I asked her when my turn to play the triangle would be. But it’s abrupt, like the case is closed, like there’s nothing else to say.

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