Melody Llwellyn's Arc

Chapter 4 of 14

The bell could not go on stage. But the rope line could. Melody stood behind it, turning the pearl-and-sea-glass bell in her claws. Her three friends huddled close. The parrot preened his jewel feathers. The starfish clung to a post with all five arms. The salamander clacked the sea glass in his cheeks, orange eyes bright. "Rule says the bell stays behind the rope," Melody whispered. "But I can too. I only need it to ring once, before I sing." She looked at the parrot. "You could hold it. Right here, off the stage. When I lift my claw, you ring." The parrot cocked his head. "You want me to be your bell." "Just one ring," Melody said. "To make them quiet. Then the song does the rest." The parrot took the handle in his beak and gave a test ring. The clear note cut across the noise. Nearby, a fire crab stopped mid-roar. Melody's shell tingled. "That," she said. "Exactly that." She pressed the bell fully into his claws. "When I lift my claw at the front, ring it." "I won't miss it," the parrot said. The starfish waved an arm. "We'll all watch. Three of us. One of you." Melody waited by the stage steps. The crowd was huge. Voices piled on voices, laughing, shouting, clapping for the act on stage. Her breath went short. She counted acts. Two left. Then one. Her claws slid on the wood rail. The salamander scrambled up beside her. He spat a green bead into her palm. "Trade," he said. "For nerve." She almost laughed. She closed her claw around the cool glass and held it. Her name rang out. "Melody Llwellyn." She climbed the steps. The stage was wide and bare and loud. Hundreds of faces looked up, still talking, still restless. No quiet corner. No place to hide. Her legs shook. She found the parrot at the rope line, bell ready in his claws. The starfish and salamander pressed against the post beneath him. Melody raised her claw. The parrot rang the bell. The note sailed over the crowd, thin and bright. Heads turned to find it. Talking dropped to murmurs. Murmurs dropped to nothing. The whole cay leaned in, hunting the sound. Into that gap, Melody opened her mouth and began her song, soft as water closing overhead. The crowd stayed silent. They strained to hear. Her small voice held them. She sang the first verse without a single shake, then the second. Faces softened. No one shouted over her. The bell had bought her the quiet, and the song kept it. But halfway through, a crab in a tall hat pushed to the rope line. The contest organizer. He glared at the parrot, at the bell in his claws, at the quiet it had made. He raised his own loud whistle to his mouth and blew. The blast tore across the stage. The crowd jolted. The quiet broke apart. Melody's next note died in her throat.