The School for the Insanely Gifted by Dan Elish Read Free Book Online

75 ran sideways alongside the far wall. In the corner of the office stood a small wood desk, piled almost all the way up to the ceiling with musty manuscripts. In the opposite corner was a dusty baby grand piano.
    Daphna stepped over a pile of sheet music. Sitting in a small rocker in the middle of the room, the old teacher brushed a hand through her bright red hair and smiled broadly. There was little doubt that Daphna was her favorite pupil.
    â€œHello to you, Daphna dear. Do you have something to play for me?”
    â€œIt’s not completely finished,” Daphna said. She took off her book bag and reached for her music. “I still have a page to go.”
    â€œThen I’ll hear what you have,” her teacher said.
    Stepping over two more piles of music, Daphna took a seat at the piano. She dutifully spread the music to her rhapsody before her even though she knew the piece by heart. Still, looking down at the piano keys, some yellowed with age, Daphna hesitated. Never before had she written a piece of music with such powerful emotional underpinnings. Every note was an homage to her mother. Every note would remind her of her loss.
    â€œWhenever you’re ready,” Mrs. Zoentrope said gently.
    Daphna looked up to meet her teacher’s reassuring gaze.
    â€œI was thinking of orchestrating this,” she said.
    The teacher nodded and pursed her lips. “Orchestration? You’re more than ready to give it a try. But let’s have a listen and see. Go ahead, dear. I’m sure it’s lovely.”
    Daphna looked back at the keys. With her teacher’s encouragement, she heard the opening phrase in her head and plunged right in. The first phrase reverberated happily through the small office, as if the great composers whose sheet music was taped to the walls were welcoming Daphna into their company.
    Dee, duh, dee, brrring!
    Daphna relaxed. Glancing up, she saw that her teacher’s eyes had begun to well up. Daphna played with even more passion, attacking the keys when the piece was loud and dramatic but caressing them during the slower, lush sections. In fact, Daphna was so moved by the power of her own composition that she felt tears in her own eyes. As the last chord rang through the office, Daphna reached for a tissue and dabbed her eyes. Mrs. Zoentrope was sitting stone still, totally motionless, staring straight ahead, brown eyes wide and glazed. A thin smile curved on her lips.
    â€œMrs. Z?” Daphna said.
    To her surprise, her teacher didn’t move.
    â€œMrs. Z?” Daphna repeated, this time more sharply. “Are you okay?”
    The teacher shook herself gently, as if waking from a dream, then closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself.
    â€œAstonishing.” Her thin smile grew into a baffled grin. “I do believe I went into some sort of trance.”
    â€œA trance?” Daphna said. “Sorry!”
    â€œNo apology necessary, my dear.” The teacher wagged her head in wonder, then looked at Daphna, eyes bright. “What a trance it was! I was transported to an extraordinarily lovely state. I feel positively renewed. As though all the bad thoughts and feelings that rattle around my mind have been collected in a paper bag and tossed out the window.” The old lady was practically shaking. “Daphna, dear! I’ve never felt better. Your music has the power to heal!”
    â€œTo heal?” the girl stammered.
    â€œYes, yes,” Mrs. Zoentrope said. “Never let anyone tell you that music can’t deeply affect the emotions. Your music especially.”
    Daphna couldn’t have been more pleased. But it was all too strange.
    â€œYou’re really saying it was my piece that put you in a trance?”
    Mrs. Zoentrope nodded. “What else could it have been, my dear? Has this ever happened before?”
    Daphna shook her head. “Not that I know of. . . .”
    She paused.
    â€œWhat, my dear?”