Kalliope 2015 | Page 106

door, the sneakers squeaking in the enclosed courtyard. And we realized we didn’t even hear the sounds of birds chirping, people talking, or the wind in the trees. There was something, though. A low hum. The kind of sound that is pervasive; it seems to come from everywhere, from everything, convincing you that it’s not actually there, that it is silence. Off of the front parking lot, a road bends around the left side of the school and down the hill towards the football field. Josh walked ten or fifteen feet ahead of me. There was no urgency in his pace. I walked on the sidewalk, while he balanced on the painted lines in the middle of the road, staring at his shoes and holding out his arms to balance himself. Beyond him, down the hill, I could see the leftmost edge of the fence that surrounds the football field; the football field itself was blocked by the school to the left. There was no sound from either of us; there was no sound but the low hum. It seemed to be getting louder the farther down the hill we walked. The change was subtle; you could never detect an actual volume change, but every time you noticed the hum, you’d swear it was louder than the time before. Then, as quickly as it came, you’d forget it was even there; it would fade into the background, it would become your silence. Near the bottom of the hill, it was getting louder still. At first, I’d been sure that Josh had heard it, yet he’d not yet made mention of it. I was realizing, in fact, that Josh and I hadn’t spoken a word since we’d gotten in his car. I was in the middle of wondering why we ended up here, when Josh stopped walking. He was in the middle of a stride; his arms were out, and he was balanced on one leg, yet his eyes were not pointed at his feet, but towards the football field. I stopped too. For a few seconds, all there was was the low hum. I didn’t move; from here, the back corner of the building still blocked everything but the scoreboard, raised up over the high fence. “What is it?” I asked him. My voice sounded loud, abrasive, foreign. Josh put his arms down, and his foot on the ground. He scratched his chest, shifted his weight. “What is it?” I asked again, softer this time. He looked over to me and shrugged. “It’s everybody,” he told me. 106