Duck Disco

The ducks lie perfectly still, waiting for the perfect moment…

Quinn hoisted her cased cello out of the trunk and sighed dramatically. Here we go again… Quinn slammed the trunk shut and looked to the ground as she began to drag her feet toward the orchestra room. She felt good in her fully black concert outfit–slacks and button up. However, she was NOT looking forward to tonight’s performance. The choir always took the spotlight, and it bothered Quinn tremendously. These kinds of thoughts dominated her train of thought as she continued walking as slowly as she dared toward her destination. She heaved the front doors open and kept going.

Seeing as she was too focused on her state of chosen misery, Quinn was completely oblivious to the hundreds of small resin ducks hiding in plain sight. They were everywhere from the inside display cases to on top of door hinges…Seemingly looking right at her. Watching her.

She made it to the orchestra room where several of her friends were already busy unpacking instruments and chattering away. The room was the newest building in the high school. It was clean, well lit, and had wonderful acoustics for rehearsals. The high ceilings allowed for large windows which made the room feel so much nicer compared to the rest of the musty school.

The other members of the orchestra spoke of anything and everything while getting ready, from politics to the most efficient kind of paper towel. Quinn laughed, feeling at home immediately. She quickly forgot about her decidedly miserable state of being.

Until she saw him. The one, the only–Mathew Montclaire. First-chair cellist. Perfect hair. So handsome. So musical. Her ARCH NEMESIS.

She involuntarily stepped back, psychologically repulsed. She turned around and walked toward her cello locker. Everything about Mathew bugged Quinn. The way he talked. The way he thought. The fact that his name didn’t have two T’s.

Finally at peace alone by her locker, she began to unzip the cello case. As she did, a familiar face approached.

“So, last concert of your high school career. How do you feel?” Grayson asked.

“It’s kind of crazy. Can’t wait to escape this heck of school, but I’ll miss orchestra. Definitely won’t miss you though, of course,” Quinn said with a smile.

“Well, I won’t miss you either. Gosh dang it.” Grayson plucked random notes on his viola, looking away from Quinn. He was a nerdy sort of fellow, leaning toward the tall side. Most would describe him as awkward–but most didn’t know him like Quinn did. “Don’t have too much fun without us, okay?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.” Quinn looked away also, directing her attention up toward the windows. She felt a bittersweet sense of achievement, having finally reached the end of this chapter of life. But now she wasn’t ready. Not now, when she finally felt like she had friends. Like she was a part of this school. Like–wait a minute. What is that thing? Quinn did a double take when she saw it.

A tiny pink resin duck. Shining in the sunlight. It was there, just sitting in the window sill, facing toward the room. It had been there the whole time, but no one had noticed it, apparently. It was so tiny compared to the window that Quinn didn’t notice it for a few seconds while staring directly at it.

“Hey, do you see that?” Quinn said quietly to Grayson.

“See what?”

“The duck!”

Grayson tried to match the direction of Quinn’s gaze. “Duck?” He studied the window, quickly scanning the area. “I don’t see a–” Grayson gasped, then laughed. “Okay, who put that there? That’s hilarious.”

Quinn and Grayson laughed for a bit, unwittingly attracting the attention of none other than Mathew Montclaire. Quinn and Mathew met eyes. She immediately stopped laughing and turned around.

“Mathew,” she whispered to Grayson. “He saw us laughing.”

Before Grayson could respond, Mathew spoke. “What’s so funny?” The two jumped, unaware that he had approached so quickly.

“We weren’t laughing at you.” Grayson stated firmly.

Mathew shook his head. “I know you weren’t laughing at me. You saw it, didn’t you?”

Quinn and Grayson exchanged a glance. Quinn looked back at Mathew, maintaining direct eye contact. “And what if I said I did?”

“I would expose what’s going down tonight. But, since you clearly didn’t, I won’t be revealing anything.”

Spoken like a true arch nemesis. “Okay, yes–we both saw the duck. What’s going on?” Quinn questioned.

“You’ll see at 9:03 when the choir begins their last song. Yep, you heard me right. 9:03. I saw the program. The choir slotted 18 songs for this concert across all its groups, including solos here and there. How come we don’t get that?”

As much as Quinn disliked Mathew, she couldn’t help but agree. The concert would begin promptly at 7:00 PM, which–if what Mathew said was correct–meant that the choir had about 1.5+ hours of concert time. The choir usually took up the majority of the program, but this–this was unprecedented. Outrageous, even.

“Yeah, it is pretty lame that we are only performing two songs. Where did you find this ever-elusive program? And what does choir have to do with that duck?”

Mathew steepled his hands and backed away. “You’ll see. You’ll see.”

“But you didn’t answer either of my questions!” Quinn exclaimed. Mathew walked back to his locker on the other side of the room, leaving Quinn and Grayson wondering.

Like Quinn, Mathew would be graduating in just a few weeks. He had big plans of performing in the university orchestra and going into a music related field.

“This is not like Mathew’s usual shenanigans,” Grayson noted. “He usually tells anyone who has ears what he’s plotting next.”

“You’re right,” Quinn agreed. She looked back up at the resin duck resting in the window sill.

“Hey, look there!” Grayson pointed ecstatically. “Another one!” It was sitting on the ground in Quinn’s locker.

Quinn bent down and picked the thing up. It was smooth and polished. It gleamed in the sunlight. This one was a shade of sage green. Hey, that’s actually pretty cute.

Just before Quinn could suggest searching for more, a familiar voice echoed through the orchestra room. “Alright everyone! Let’s get tuned and run our songs for a warm up!”

Mrs. Ashford, the conductor, had finally arrived.

Meanwhile, far above the audience in the tech booth…

Tara sat alone, gazing at the crowd from above. She enjoyed the solitude. Normally, someone would be in the tech booth with her, but everyone else that was allowed in the booth was either performing or already had plans tonight. That meant she had to run the lights and sound single handedly. But it wasn’t too big of a deal. Tara could handle it. Plus, it gave her the chance to set the stage for a legendary event…

Tara wandered in her realm of thought, thinking about her life. Regretting not learning an instrument sooner. She sulked, suddenly feeling inadequate.

Until she saw him. The one, the only–Mathew Montclaire. First-chair cellist. Perfect hair. Ridiculously handsome. Uncontestedly musical. Her partner in crime.

He strutted onto the stage with unmatched confidence and took his seat. The rest of the orchestra followed suit, filling up the seats.

He gave Tara a wave, and her heart flipped. Even though she had known him for years, she still got butterflies anytime he interacted with her. She watched him while the orchestra tuned. Next year would be strange without him. Tara was so caught up in awe that she nearly forgot to turn on the mic when the conductor stepped out.

“Welcome to Arts Night, a showcase of talent and practice. Tonight marks the end of another great year for all of our musical programs. Orchestra is delighted to be playing two songs for you tonight. I’m sure you’ll recognize the first one! Without further ado, Henry Purcell’s Rondeau Abdelazer,” Mrs. Ashton announced with a flourish. The audience cheered.

Tara adjusted the lights to her preferred performance setting. She watched Mathew intently as they began the song. He played his cello with such grace and confidence, built from years of private lessons and practice. Naturally, he was a bit arrogant. Oddly enough, Tara found it charming.

Tara found herself back in her realm of thought, this time more focused on the imminent chaos that was about to begin. She fiddled with the special remote in her pocket, anxious that it was still there and that she hadn’t activated it accidentally.

The orchestra finished up their second piece and the audience clapped with an appropriate joviality. 7:11 PM.

Up next were the band, jazz band, and percussion groups. Tara started to bounce her leg. Then would come the dreaded 18 choral songs in a row. Tara enjoyed choir music in general, but even she agreed it was too much.

She watched the bands play their pieces, adjusting the light and sound levels as needed. They played wonderfully, even engaging the audience for one of the songs.

Fittingly, the bands went out with a bang.7:49PM. What a great note to end the year on. Pun INTENDED! Tara laughed at herself.

Mr. Gliss stepped out onto the stage with an egotistical bravado. “Welcome to tonight’s Arts Night Concert! We have an amazing program outlined ahead for you tonight, highlighting the talents of all of our wonderful performers. And congrats to the band and orchestra as well for making an appearance.

An appearance?! Tara clenched her fists.

“First, we present to you our four soloists. They all achieved the highest marks at State Solo and Ensemble.”

Tara kept glancing at the time. 8:36 PM. To be clear, I LOVE the choir. They sing like professionals. I’m just doing the school a favor.

Three more songs from the women’s choir. 8:45 PM. She reached again for the remote, pulling the small square-shaped thing out of her pocket. Designed with one purpose, it had just one small green button.

Tara forced herself to take a deep breath and pulled out her sketchbook. Determined to calm herself, she outlined something she loved to draw. A duck–a sketch of a miniature one to be precise. Her sketchbook was full of them.

Mr. Gliss stepped up to the mic once more. “And now, for our closing number, we invite all the choirs to come to the stage. I guarantee this will be the best performance you will hear all evening!”

9:02 PM. Right on schedule. Tara readied the remote, looking for Mathew’s queue.

Within seconds, Mathew discreetly poked his head out from behind the curtains and gave Tara the queue–a thumbs up.

Show time. Tara smashed the green button.

From the audience…

9:02 PM. Quinn sat with Grayson amongst the audience. Grayson had nodded off while Quinn sat on the edge of her seat. Quinn was exhausted as well, but far too apprehensive about whatever Mathew was scheming to fall asleep. “Grayson,” she whispered. “Grayson, wake up!”

The members of the choirs squished together on the stage with barely enough room for each member to stand together upon the bleachers they had set up.

Mr. Gliss raised his arm to begin conducting, but suddenly froze. 9:03 PM. He looked up slowly, along with several of the choir members. “What the–”

A disco ball the size of a car fell from the ceiling. The tension of a rope prevented it from landing on the heads of all the poor choir kids. It shattered midair with a deafening boom right as it dipped below the top curtains. Thousands upon thousands of miniature resin ducks began to spill out from the disco ball, covering a frantic Mr. Gliss in no time. There were multiple color variations, creating a beautiful scene of horror.

Grayson shot up from his seat in an instant. Many people screamed, including Grayson. The chaos was immediate. Choir kids toppled like dominoes. Some people in the audience were jumping out of their seats and dashing for the exits, trampling each other, and tripping over chairs. Others ran toward the ducks in an attempt to control the chaos. Quinn got out of her seat, but remained in place.

The miniscule ducks moved fluidly as they continued to cascade down from the disco ball. More and more continued to fall, more than the disco ball should have had room for. They moved in ways that should have been physically impossible, as if they had a mind of their own. The ducks started spilling off the stage, pooling against the edge of the stage.

Quinn saw Mathew creeping behind the stage for a brief second. Oh no, you don’t. She moved to corner him, but he was already bolting for another exit.

The ducks were, in fact, alive–but that is a story for a different time. They began to carry Mr. Gliss off the stage like he was a crowd surfer.

“AAARGH!!!” Mr. Gliss shrieked, writhing piteously. Somewhere from far above, laughter could be heard. The crowd scrambled to part as the ducks carried him to the nearest exit and heaved the door open in one swift motion.

Out they went, carrying Mr. Gliss to his doom. And so became the legend of the

duck bomb.

Mr. Gliss was never seen in public again.

…

“That was horrible. Even for you!! You won’t get out of this one so easily,” Quinn spat, walking briskly to keep up with Mathew.

Mathew shrugged with his usual flippant smile. “They have no evidence to link it to me. And it worked, didn't it? People will be talking about this for years.”

“Look, just because you’re good–no, the BEST–at your instrument doesn’t give you the right to completely destroy someone else’s career. Just because you think he takes too much time in the choir gives you no ethical reason to put him in danger’s way!”

“He deserved it. He had it coming, with all the times he’s done this. I couldn’t let him get away with this again. Not for my last concert ever.”

Quinn shook. “YOU. HORRIBLE. NO GOOD. FEET-SMELLING. CABBAGE-HEAD!!”

With that, Quinn stomped off, leaving Mathew to his long awaited, short lived victory.

…

Quinn contacted the principal, giving her enough information to link the crime to Mathew, and by extension–Tara.

What happened next to Mathew, no one knows…he was banned from the high school, and no ensemble would allow him in from that moment henceforth. Tara was no longer allowed in the tech booth, despite being the best of the few eligible tech crew members. The two did not end up together, for a love bound through evil is no love at all.

Ducks were seen all around the school for the next few weeks, but eventually, most of them had been pocketed by students, or cleaned up by staff. Only a few remained, where few students noticed them.

Five Years Later…

Marissa Montclaire unzipped her cello, ready for her first ever high school performance. She felt good in her all-black outfit, but she wasn’t looking forward to tonight’s performance. She was nervous about her playing, worried that people would compare her to Mathew. Especially because of what happened at his last concert.

She looked up at the windows, trying to distract herself.

Something shiny caught her eye. Something oddly familiar. Something that stood the test of time, escaping students and janitors alike. Marissa grinned.

A tiny resin duck.

THE END

This story is based on a true event. Tiny resin ducks are real. Once upon a time, my friend and I hid hundreds of them around our school. Any ties to real persons and events are purely fictitious, as is the duck disco. No instruments were harmed in the making of this story.