The Silence Challenge
A Short Story by LG Alfonso
This was it. The Silence Challenge. Of all the homework assignments any teacher could give out, this was the one Paula Sayers had waited years for.
“To understand the effects that silence had on the relationship between Daniel and his father,” Miss Cortez explained, “I want you to pick a day in the next month where you say nothing. Try to go through one whole day at school and at home without speaking. Then, I want you to write a one page essay on your experience and hand it in to me. You’ll have until holiday break to complete the assignment.”
Paula had this English assignment in the bag. Of all the students in her school, she was the quietest one she knew. She could win any silence contest on the school bus. Her Spanish teachers always marked her down for her lack of interaction with the other students. Hell, she’d been in speech therapy for as long as she could remember because of her silence.
But this time, her ability to say nothing would work in her favor. Tomorrow, she would go through one day of complete silence and finally be rewarded for it. Nothing could stop her.
* * *
For the first few classes, Paula was unstoppable. Every teacher who taught juniors and seniors knew about the Silence Challenge, so all Paula had to do was show them a note (in Spanish for Senora Hull), and they’d nod in understanding. Two of her classes were the same, while in the third she got to revel in silence while everyone else continued being their rambunctious, annoying selves. And at break, she sat back and smiled as she watched her friends goof around.
Then fourth hour came, and it happened.
At first, her psychology class was nothing out of the ordinary. The class had the computer lab for the day, so she was doing research for her essay on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, her clacking keyboard louder than her. Then she felt it. Wetness. A slight twinge in her lower abdomen.
Wetness and pain down there meant one thing.
She wrote a quick note to her teacher requesting a bathroom pass, which he granted. She dashed to the nearest girl’s bathroom and slammed the stall door behind her. As soon as she confirmed what was happening, she wanted to cry.
Her period. Of all the worst case scenarios she could come up with, her next cycle had to start on the worst day possible. Pads weren’t a problem, she learned early on to always keep a few in her bag. But she didn’t pack any pain medication, and this worried her.
Paula calmed herself with three deep breaths before cleaning herself and stepping out to wash her hands. Maybe she’d get lucky and the cramps wouldn’t start until tomorrow.
* * *
Paula was going to die.
The twinge in her lower abdomen evolved with each hour. Without a voice, she couldn’t go to the administrator’s office and request painkillers. So she toughed it out during lunch, sitting against her locker and trying not to look like she was curling into a fetal position. She struggled to concentrate all through the Cold War documentary in fifth period, trying to ignore how her face grew hot enough to burn an egg. In sixth period English she gave up on concentrating, counting down the minutes until she boarded the bus to ride home. She would get that A if it was the last thing she did.
The real challenge came with seventh hour band class.
Of all the teachers in the school, Dr. Saunders pushed his students the hardest. He expected the Symphony Band to perform better than any college orchestra in the country. And with the annual statewide showcase coming up, the pressure was on.
On most days, Paula didn’t mind band class. She loved the way the music around her stirred her imagination, and though she preferred to stay out of the spotlight, she couldn’t help but preen every time Dr. Saunders emphasized the importance of bringing out the baseline. But today, all she wanted was to go home and go to bed.
Paula’s cramps were now all she could think about. Her limbs shook as she struggled to hold up her bass clarinet, and beads of sweat started to drop from her forehead. Even the music couldn’t distract her from the pain. She’d give anything for a heating pad.
Halfway through rehearsal, Dr. Saunders paused the band.
“Bassists, you’re killing me!” He shouted. “I know the flutes and clarinets are outnumbering you, but this is your time to shine! Without that baseline, the music gets cold and lifeless! Jake, switch to bass clarinet and give them some support.”
For the first time that afternoon, Paula felt cold.
Jake Evans was the most confusing person Paula had ever met. They attended the same school since seventh grade, and in those five years they barely said three words to each other. He’d never been mean to her, and as far as she knew she’d never been mean to him either. They just didn’t run in the same friend circles. So when he approached her early in senior year to congratulate her on her switch from alto to bass clarinet, Paula didn’t know what to make of it.
At first, she wondered if he had a crush on her. This was quashed quickly when he started dating Lily Walker after Homecoming. Yet somehow, having a girlfriend didn’t stop Jake from talking to Paula when he got the chance. Inviting her to his Halloween party. Thumping her on the back like a football player for correctly identifying the difference between a monologue and a soliloquy. Trying to befriend her. And for the cherry on top, this semester she had four classes with him back to back.
Stranger still, Paula wasn’t the only girl he’d take a chance to talk to. Any time she saw him outside of class, he was always hanging out with a different girl. Every time. And yet, no one thought this was weird. Whenever she brought him up among her friends, they all said the same thing: “He’s so nice!”
Paula must’ve zoned out, because the next thing she knew she felt someone nudging her elbow.
“Alright there, Paula?” Jake whispered, a teasing smile stretched across his face. “We’re about to start again.”
Paula rolled her eyes in response and lifted her mouthpiece to her lips, refocusing her attention on the baton.
* * *
By the time rehearsal finally ended, Paula’s head had started pounding. Her movements were sluggish as she struggled to put her instrument back in its case before realizing she had to take it apart first. When she put her case and music sheets in her locker, she looked down the hallway to see the line of school buses waiting for her outside.
The end was so close, she could almost taste her after-school hot chocolate.
She steeled herself and prepared to run. But just as she was about to leave her locker, she felt a hand on her shoulder.
“Hey, are you okay, Paula?” Jake Evans. He wasn’t smiling anymore. “I was kidding before, but you’re looking kinda pale.”
For the first time that day, Paula wanted to speak. She wanted to tell him to get out of her way, to stay away from her, to stop treating her like a potential conquest. Instead, she settled for a glare before pushing past him.
But even with the motivation to avoid Jake and catch her bus, she couldn’t hurry. She felt as though her limbs were swimming in molasses, her heartbeat thumping through her whole body. The cramps in her stomach felt like a stab wound now, and she tried to think of how good it would be to sit on the cushion of a bus seat. But the pain consumed her mind.
“Paula!”
In one moment, spots filled her vision, and she lost control of her legs. The next thing she knew, she was lying on the ground, a crowd of students leaning over her, Jake Evans among them.
“What happened?”
“Is she dying?”
“Someone call an ambulance!”
“Okay, everyone, give her some space!” Dr. Saunders. “Get back, everyone!” Paula saw him making his way through the crowd and crouch down next to Jake. “What happened?”
Paula ignored Jake’s version of the story and pushed herself up to a seated position. Her whole body was drenched in sweat from the effort, but it allowed her to see through the crowd outside the glass doors. The buses were gone.
“Paula, do you need anything?” Dr. Saunders asked, loud enough for only her to hear. “Do you need to call your parents?”
Paula sluggishly dug into her pocket for her note and showed it to him.
He frowned. “Paula, if it’s an emergency, then I don’t think you’ll be graded down for saying anything. Miss Cortez would understand.”
Paula said nothing. Even if she could, her mother wouldn’t be able to pick her up for another two hours, at least. If she talked, she’d have to admit that she was the only senior who still took the bus home. If she talked, she’d fail the one thing she was supposed to be good at.
Bad things happened when Paula Sayers opened her mouth.
Realizing she was out of options, she took the note back, took her pen she loved to keep tucked behind her ear, and wrote one word.
Home.
Jake turned to Dr. Saunders. “I can take her home. I’ll have to text my friends to let them know I’ll be a little late for the movie, but it’s no trouble.”
Paula wanted to cry. Could this day get any worse? But she didn’t have the strength to stop Jake from grabbing her arm and helping her stand. She never felt so humiliated as he walked her through the crowd to the parking lot, and she could hear everyone swooning over his chivalry as they passed.
Jake’s old Mercedes wasn’t far, parked towards the front and buried in snow. Paula shrugged out of his grip the first chance she got and hugged her backpack as she curled into herself on the front seat. Jake started the car and turned the heat up.
“I’ll scrape the snow off,” he told her. “Just write down your address and we’ll be all set.”
Paula didn’t move for the first few minutes, watching him brushing snow from the windshield and contemplating her next move. If he took her home (and not to some alley or club), he would know where she lived. He would know where to find her after school.
But did she have any other choice? If she tried to leave the car, she might pass out again. If she called her mom, she’d lose the challenge. And Dr. Saunders had been all but happy to leave her fate in the hands of the All American Dreamboy. Resigning herself, she wrote her address on the note and placed it on the dashboard. She’d deal with whatever fallout came once she didn’t have to worry about her health.
When Jake popped back into the driver’s seat, he looked at the note. “Oh, I know where that is!” He exclaimed, his toothy grin stretching from one ear to the other. “We’ll be there in no time!”
As long as that was true, Paula wouldn’t complain.
Once they were on the road, Jake turned on the radio to a jazz channel. He didn’t seem bothered by Paula’s silence, content to drive through the snow and hum along to the different tunes. Paula kept her eyes on the road, ready to jump out if he took a wrong turn. But he never did.
In ten minutes, he pulled up in front of her apartment building. It wasn’t much to write about. The stone stairs needed repair, the blue paint needed touching up, and the whole complex smelled like fish. But for Paula and her mother, it was home.
“Hope you feel better,” Jake told her as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “Need help getting inside?”
For a split second, Paula considered accepting his help. He’d gotten her home, hadn’t said a word the whole ride, and even risked being late for his meeting with his friends. Then she remembered the humiliation that led to him taking her home in the first place, and she flushed. Without a word, she snatched her note from the dashboard and left the car. He didn’t drive off until she slammed the apartment door behind her.
* * *
The afternoon passed in a blur. As soon as she set foot in her apartment, Paula huddled on the couch and fell asleep watching Lon Cheney’s Phantom of the Opera. Before she knew it, her mother was on the other end of the couch, watching the news. When she saw her daughter awake, she turned off the TV and faced her.
“Hey, sweetheart,” she murmured. “The school called me this afternoon. You feeling any better?”
Paula nodded, sitting up.
Her mother placed her hand on Paula’s forehead and nodded. “You could’ve called me, you know. I could’ve driven you home, Miss Cortez would understand.”
Paula didn’t say anything. Her mother needed the money, and she needed to beat the challenge.
Her mother sighed. “It’s getting late, and I’ve got a big meeting to prepare for tomorrow.” She stood. “Water bottle and dinner’s in the fridge. Try not to stay up too long.” She walked to their shared bedroom, then paused and turned back. “I’m proud of you. You know that, right?”
Paula nodded. She still had a few hours to go. Her mother turned away and disappeared behind the bedroom door.
Stretching her arms over her head, Paula checked the clock on the wall. Nine o’clock. She’d been out longer than she thought.
As much as she knew she’d need to go to bed, Paula didn’t think she’d be able to go back to sleep any time soon. So she pulled her notebook out of her backpack and started drafting her essay.
* * *
On the following Monday, Miss Cortez started her class by handing out papers. She dropped off Paula’s essay. Only a handful of words were written at the bottom in blue ink:
You could’ve asked for help. A.
She’d done it. Paula had stayed silent for a whole day and passed with flying colors.
So why did she feel miserable?
