Circle of Silence

by Carol M. Tanzman

  In the bottom corner, one bird stands alone. He’s got a crooked wing and stares up at the flock as if he’s just been attacked. On the other hand, it might be that the poor bird’s desperate to join the rest. It could go either way.

  “MP?” Marci whispers.

  “Who else? The writing’s the same. Call Phil. See if they papered his hall. I’ll try Bethany.”

  My sister answers on the second ring. “If I get caught talking—”

  Honestly, would it kill the kid to answer the phone nicely just one time? “You won’t get in trouble. It’s before first bell. Are you at your locker? Is the hall papered with MP flyers?”

  “No. Is yours?”

  “Yes. Go around the corner. See if anything’s there. I’ll wait.”

  It doesn’t take long before she whispers, “I see them—”

  “Which hallway? English or French?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t know where all the classes are yet.”

  “What room are you in front of?” I ask.

  “One eighty.”

  “That’s French. Thanks, Bethie-any.” I hang up before she can yell at me for screwing up her name. “First floor was hit. The language corridor.”

  “Phil’s locker is clean,” Marci reports. “What do you think? MP only had time to do a couple of halls.”

  “That’ll be my guess. We should ask Mira—darn it!” I point down the hall. “People are starting to tear these down. I’ve got to get equipment!”

  Just before sprinting to the Media Center, I make sure to reattach the flyer to my locker.

  * * *

  By the time first period ends, Omar and Raul have returned from their reconnaissance trip.

  “MP did one hallway on each floor,” Omar says. “My guess is there wasn’t time to blanket the whole school.”

  “Any rumors going around about who did it?”

  “Eryn Forrester, who’s on Student Council, thinks it might be an advertisement,” Raul tells us. “For a new gym or something.”

  “They can’t do that, can they?” Henry asks. “Advertise in school?”

  I perk up. “Wait! The Board of Ed is considering a motion to allow companies to hang banners in public schools. Paint lockers with their logos. They’d give the district a ton of money if it passes.”

  “How do you know?” Raul asks.

  “Channel 5 did a piece about it last week. But I don’t think the Board voted yet.”

  “How can Wilkins let some business put up weird ads on our lockers?” Marci’s pissed. “Honestly, what does he do all day except go around with that stupid bullhorn and yell at people in the cafeteria?”

  “Good point. We should get the administration view,” Omar says. “I’ll check it out with my new friend Mrs. Fairy.”

  “Cool. Go with…Jagger?” The boys nod. “Raul, Marci’s got a long shot idea to tell you about.”

  “Wait up!” Henry gets tongue-tied the instant everyone turns.

  “Do you have a suggestion?” I ask gently.

  He shakes his head and points to the flyer. “A question. It says ‘Join Us.’”

  “Yes. It does.” Marci wrinkles her eyebrows. “What are you—oh, I get it! Us. If MP is someone’s initials, why didn’t he write ‘Join Me’?”

  Henry gives her the puppy dog eyes. “Exactly. Who’s us? ’Til now, we’ve assumed it’s one person. And there’s a second question. How does someone join? There aren’t directions.”

  Marci chews the string on her WiHi Girls’ Soccer sweatshirt. “Maybe this is the first flyer. There could be more with instructions.”

  “Hold on!” Raul points. “Henry, are you saying MP isn’t the bird in the corner? It’s the group of birds?”

  “Flock,” Jagger notes.

  “Group, flock, whatever.”

  Henry’s scruffy hair flies as he nods. “The flock’s definitely MP.”

  “Why are you so sure?” Omar asks.

  With a Sharpie, Henry traces a pattern on the flyer. “Check out the feet. See the two letters on each claw? MP. The corner bird doesn’t have that.”

  Raul whistles. “I’d never have noticed that in a million years.”

  “Doesn’t prove anything.” Jagger taps the paper. “Maybe ‘Us’ means if you join Me, MP, then it’s an us.”

  “Whatchu smokin’, bro, and can I have some?” Omar laughs. “That makes no sense.”

  “It does. If it’s rhetorical,” Jagger insists.

  “Rhetorical or not, you guys sign out a camera and talk to Mrs. Fahey during lunch so we can rule out a company looking for publicity,” I tell them. “If it’s a dead end, at least we have another way to go.”

  * * *

  Skipping the cafeteria, I pop into the Media Center to digitize the locker footage during lunchtime. Just before the bell rings, the rest of the team appears. Nobody looks happy.

  “What happened?” I ask.

  “Mrs. Fairy told Omar that she won’t be interviewed on camera again,” Jagger says.

  Omar lightens his voice for a very credible imitation of the assistant principal. “‘What I can tell you right now is that Mr. Wilkins wouldn’t think of allowing advertisements without the Board’s approval. And I hope, no, insist, that Campus News refrain from spreading rumors. I refuse to speculate regarding the nature of the flyers.’”

  Before we stop laughing, the intercom squawks. Mr. Wilkins.

  “Teachers, please excuse the interruption. At this time, I need to remind all students that postering on lockers is not permitted. Approved flyers must be placed on bulletin boards designated for that purpose. Thank you for your cooperation.”

  Marci shakes her head. “Let’s see if I get this straight. Cut-up plastic body parts are fine with Wilkins as long as they’re not hanging from lockers.”

  I laugh. “The mysteries of WiHi are…”

  “Mysterious. I know. But—” The bell cuts off whatever else she’s about to say. Marci waits as I hit Save and then Close.

  “Raul and I struck out, too, Val. Trey’s got that horrible flu that’s going around. The runs, the stomach—”

  I hold up my hand. “No further details needed, thank you very much!”

  “Yeah. Okay. He hasn’t been in school all week, so he didn’t put up the flyers. He’s not MP.”

  “Are you going to tell Mira so she won’t keep worrying?”

  She holds her phone. “Already texted.”

  * * *

  Later that evening, I catch the news while the twins take a bath. Channel 5’s Emily Purdue does a piece about roadkill jewelry, actually modeling a rat bracelet. Shows how far that lady will go for a story, even if it’s fluff. I love the way she keeps her cool, though, never letting viewers know what she really thinks. Watching her on the screen, I fall into one of my favorite fantasies. A summer internship as Emily’s assistant. How cool is that? My dream college in Syracuse has an extensive internship list, so it’s not like it’s out of the question.

  That line of thought leads me upstairs. No sense sitting around when I have so much stuff to do. Narrowing down the list of schools that I should apply to. I could start the Common Application admissions essay. Or figure out a way to catch MP.

  The door to my bedroom is closed. It’s no surprise to find Bethany on her bed just…sitting there.

  “What?” she snaps.

  “I just watched the grossest thing—”

  My sister blinks. “And you’r
e telling me because…”

  “I’m considering buying you a skunk necklace for Christmas. Just want to know what you think.”

  She yawns. “I hate skunks. Everybody hates skunks. Are you done with the TV?”

  Honestly. Why bother trying to have a conversation? “All yours. Until the twins get out of the bath, that is.”

  Bethany shoots out of the room like a cannonball. Her feet pound the steps. Dad yells, “Who’s running like that? I’ve told you kids a million times…”

  Instead of starting the essay, I pull out my Campus News notebook and try to come up with a plan to unravel the MP mystery. A coup like that would go a long way with college admissions committees. Is it a group, like Henry thinks? If so, what does that mean? No lightbulb ideas hit, so I move to the computer. Bethie and I share, which means I can only get on when she’s not. As producer, I’m on WiHi’s announcement distribution list, so I try to check email at least once a day.

  Two messages are in my in-box. Reading the second one sends a jolt of electricity through my brain.

  Information is power. MP has the power. Stop trying to find out who this is or Campus News will be cut out.

  Holy smokes. Actual contact! Never mind what it says. Sending an email means my stories have hit home. Maybe I’m closing in without realizing it.

  The email address, mp@hotmail, doesn’t help. Anyone can set up a Hotmail account. Leaning forward, it takes a couple of tries to craft the right response.

  Can we meet to talk about this? Any time and place you say.

  Imagine the scoop! Meeting MP, trying to convince him—or a group—to go public. The triumph when I tell the team. Raul will have to admit I was the right choice for producer. It won’t matter whether Jagger smirks or not. I’ll break the story. Student Emmy Award—and college of my dreams— here I come!

  I cannot wait for the reply.

  * * *

  Which never comes. After two days, I give the team the go-ahead for a segment using the flyers-on-lockers footage. Everyone except Marci works on it. At the end, I ask the question: Is MP one person or a group? The camera cuts to a close-up of the flyer. Henry highlighted the faint MP on each of the birds’ claws. Just as the piece comes to a close, the letters start to glow. We hear actual applause from the neighboring classroom when the broadcast signs off.

  Raul gives each of us the WiHi fist bump. “Great show, guys.”

  “Agreed!” I say. “Best team ever!”

  Marci’s caught up in the excitement, too. “Let’s eat lunch together. Never, in the entire history of Campus News, has anyone applauded.”

  Jagger laughs. “That’s because everyone’s asleep by the end.”

  She leans back in the chair. “Do you have to be such a jerk? Every time?”

  “Can you two call a truce? Please!” The constant bickering between Marci and Jagger is getting to Omar. “At least during lunch. I want to talk Halloween. I’m having a party.”

  “Cool,” I tell him. “Corner table by the far window?”

  Everyone nods except for Jagger. Luckily, Marci’s not looking his way.

  * * *

  Before heading to the cafeteria, I twirl my locker combo, fling open the door—and immediately slam it shut.

  Tracy Gardner’s got the locker next to mine. “What’s the matter, Val? Forget your sandwich—”

  “It’s nothing.” With a “no problem” wave, I barrel down the hall. “Marci!”

  The screech is louder than I intend. Marci and Phil turn at the same moment.

  “What’s wrong—” she starts.

  I grab her arm. “Come, too, Phil. You’re not going to believe what I just saw.”

  The looks we get as I drag them through the crowd make me realize I need to slow down, stay cool. Just in case someone’s watching. I pull the two of them into the gap by the nurse’s office. “Wait until the hall clears.”

  “For what?” Phil asks, at the same time Marci says, “Tell me!”

  “Hold on.” I wait a bit before peering around the corner. Halls empty quickly at lunch. “We’re good!” I move to my locker, turn the combo and swing the door open. “Voila!”

  Marci pushes Phil aside and then shrieks, “What on earth—”

  “Crazy, right?”

  A dead bird hangs inside the locker. One end of a string is tied around his neck; the other end loops to the coat hook. The left wing droops crookedly.

  “It’s fake, right?” Marci whispers hopefully.

  “Hell no,” Phil tells her. “This is, or was, a real animal. Sparrow maybe. Or wren. Look at the eyes. That is not plastic.”

  “This is way creepy!” Marci says. “And disgusting.”

  Phil reaches into the locker. “I’ll get rid of it—”

  “No!” I breathe. “I mean, not yet.”

  “You don’t want to keep this—”

  Marci shudders. “She does. At least until she can shoot it.”

  The light dawns on Phil’s face. “MP! He’s the one—”

  “Or they,” Marci scolds. “Didn’t you watch the broadcast this morning?”

  My phone buzzes. Text message. “It’s Raul. They’re waiting for us in the caf.”

  “Give me that.” Marci takes my cell.

  Phil gestures to the locker. “Do you really want to show this to the whole school? It might give people ideas.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re advocating censorship!”

  He shifts, confused. “Um, not if that’s a bad thing.”

  I toss my head. “Yes, it’s a bad thing. Marci, give me my phone back. I need to tell them to bring equipment—”

  “They’re on it.” She shudders. “Can you at least shut the door while we wait? That thing’s weirding me out.”

  “You’re not going to faint, are you?” Phil sounds worried.

  “I just need to sit.” She settles on the floor, her back against Tracy’s locker. “That poor bird….”

  “I’ll wet some paper towels,” Phil says.

  Marci watches her boyfriend jog down the hall. “So sweet.”

  “Uh-huh.” He’s a little too troglodyte for my taste, but I’ll never say that out loud. “How do you think someone got into my locker?”

  “What?” She looks startled. “I don’t know.”

  Both Phil, carrying a boatload of dripping paper towels, and the team arrive at the same time.

  “Ran into Jagger,” Omar tells me. “He’ll be right here.”

  Marci rolls her eyes. “After the work is done.”

  I pull open the locker door and Raul whistles. “Now, that’s a visual.”

  Phil might have some caveman in him, but Raul understands news. After the lights are set, Omar starts to shoot. He gets straight on, side, and low angles.

  Just as Marci predicted, Jagger strolls down the hall the instant we finish. “Miss much?”

  “Take a look,” Henry says.

  Jagger takes it in without blinking before turning to me. He sounds concerned. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Are you kidding?” Marci looks like she wants to gag. “Throw it away. Right this second. I can’t imagine the diseases the poor thing has. Had.”

  “I don’t think we should toss it. We need to keep it for proof,” Raul says.

  “Of what?” Jagger asks.

  Henry says, “Foul play.”

  Jagger can’t help laughing. “F-O-W-L play? Now, that’s good, Henry.”


  Henry actually smiles. “F-O-U-L. As in, this is a seriously bad sign that MP wants Val to stop reporting.”

  “You’re right.” I dig into my backpack and pull out a copy of the email. “Got this a few days ago.”

  The group gathers to read. Marci blinks. “And you didn’t tell us?”

  “I didn’t think they’d actually do something to me. Tell the truth. Does anyone here think we should back off the story because MP says so?”

  “Give us a little credit,” Raul mutters.

  “Wait a sec. We should stop reporting it.” Marci points to the locker, at the same time Phil throws me a satisfied look. “Whoever did this is crazy. You’re just feeding his, their…whatever by giving MP all this publicity. Not only that, but this is clearly a ‘Locker Violation.’ Wilkins will be pissed. You should tell him.”

  “You can’t be serious,” I protest. “He might squash the story. It’s my locker, Marci. I get to decide whether or not to keep quiet.”

  “Like that will ever happen,” she mutters.

  Phil holds up a hand. “It doesn’t matter to me what you guys do about Campus News. Right now you have to decide about the bird. You can’t leave it here or maggots will—”

  “Phil!” Marci shrieks. “That’s disgusting.”

  “But true,” Raul says. “How about we find a plastic bag, wrap it tight.”

  “And keep it where? Not in the Media Center or this is the last you see of me.” Marci pouts.

  “Freezer,” Henry suggests.

  “Gross,” Marci mumbles.

  “I have twin brothers. If they see it next to the ice cream or whatever, they’d dissect it in two minutes flat.”

  That pulls Marci out of her funk. “You should see Val’s fridge. There’s no room to freeze a candy bar, let alone a bird.”

  “What the hell?” Raul says. “If we find a bag, I’ll keep it. Tell my mom it’s a science project. She’s seen worse.”