longer and talk to Tyler without me appearing desperate.
Tyler lights up. “Great!”
Ethan hesitates. “Okay, see you tomorrow.” He gives me a quick hug and nods at Tyler.
After Ethan leaves, Tyler leans in. “I’ve got a confession to make. Ethan intimidates the crap out of me. That guy is a genius.”
I nod. “He really is. I’ve watched him write songs, and it just comes out of him so fast. It’s like it’s completely effortless, and I, of course, have to spend days, weeks even, obsessing over the simplest chord progression.” I think Ethan’s probably bored with our assignments in class, he’s always the first one to finish. He’d never admit it since the rest of us struggle, but I always wonder why he puts up with all the drama of CPA when he’s one of the few students who doesn’t really need the school’s help. He’s already a brilliant songwriter. “I have to admit that I was terrified the first time I had to play something I wrote in front of him. But he’s also one of the most supportive people in the program.”
Tyler puts his hand in his pockets. “Yeah, that’s great … um, since we’re confessing things, I also want to admit that I’m glad he left and that you’re still here.”
I think, Play it cool, Emme. But “Me, too!” bursts from my lips with a little too much excitement.
Tyler and I sit on a couch and talk for the rest of the time. I don’t even notice when Sophie leaves. Or that Ethan texts me four times to see if I made it home okay. Or that Tyler and I are the last ones there.
All I know is that I have a date planned with Tyler Stewart.
Leave it to Jack to figure out something is going on.
“What aren’t you telling me, Red? You’ve got this little mischievous smile on your face.”
“I do not.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and leans in to stare into my eyes.
“Yes, you do. I’ll admit, it suits you well. You should be a troublemaker more often.”
The four of us sit down in composition class. The last thing I need is those three giving me grief for my date on Wednesday with Tyler.
Thankfully, Mr. North starts class, which is the only thing that can quiet Jack down (somewhat). But he keeps tugging on my hair as Mr. North fills us in on the next CPA concert.
“Okay, guys, the alumni concert is coming up. I don’t need to remind you that some of our most prestigious alumni, and those with the deepest pockets, come each year to be wowed by the students. Now that you’re seniors, you get the privilege of putting on the show. The theme this year is Icons. Each performance will need to feature an icon or an iconic piece from one of the decades since CPA was founded. A representative from each group needs to come up and pick a decade out of the hat.”
Jack gets up for us and takes a piece of paper out of the hat. He unfolds it and nods his head with a big smile on his face. He shows Mr. North the paper and holds it out to us as he comes back to his seat. “The eighties.”
The other four groups pick their decades, and Mr. North reminds us that this is the last all-school performance before the showcase audition invitations are handed out.
“Okay,” Ethan starts us off. “We’ve got to make a statement here. I’m thinking that whatever we choose, it should be something loud, something big, very rock-heavy. Last year I wanted to fall asleep from all the power ballads. Just because some of the alumni are elderly, it doesn’t mean that we can’t spice things up.”
We all agree. Plus, being loud always helps me with any nerves I have onstage. Churning out big power chords fast has a calming effect on me. I’m probably the only person who finds performing punk music therapeutic.
“Why don’t we put a punk spin on whatever song we choose?” I say.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jack agrees.
We throw out names of the eighties’ musical icons: Madonna, Prince, Bruce Springsteen, The Police, and so on. Until we settle on
Tyler lights up. “Great!”
Ethan hesitates. “Okay, see you tomorrow.” He gives me a quick hug and nods at Tyler.
After Ethan leaves, Tyler leans in. “I’ve got a confession to make. Ethan intimidates the crap out of me. That guy is a genius.”
I nod. “He really is. I’ve watched him write songs, and it just comes out of him so fast. It’s like it’s completely effortless, and I, of course, have to spend days, weeks even, obsessing over the simplest chord progression.” I think Ethan’s probably bored with our assignments in class, he’s always the first one to finish. He’d never admit it since the rest of us struggle, but I always wonder why he puts up with all the drama of CPA when he’s one of the few students who doesn’t really need the school’s help. He’s already a brilliant songwriter. “I have to admit that I was terrified the first time I had to play something I wrote in front of him. But he’s also one of the most supportive people in the program.”
Tyler puts his hand in his pockets. “Yeah, that’s great … um, since we’re confessing things, I also want to admit that I’m glad he left and that you’re still here.”
I think, Play it cool, Emme. But “Me, too!” bursts from my lips with a little too much excitement.
Tyler and I sit on a couch and talk for the rest of the time. I don’t even notice when Sophie leaves. Or that Ethan texts me four times to see if I made it home okay. Or that Tyler and I are the last ones there.
All I know is that I have a date planned with Tyler Stewart.
Leave it to Jack to figure out something is going on.
“What aren’t you telling me, Red? You’ve got this little mischievous smile on your face.”
“I do not.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and leans in to stare into my eyes.
“Yes, you do. I’ll admit, it suits you well. You should be a troublemaker more often.”
The four of us sit down in composition class. The last thing I need is those three giving me grief for my date on Wednesday with Tyler.
Thankfully, Mr. North starts class, which is the only thing that can quiet Jack down (somewhat). But he keeps tugging on my hair as Mr. North fills us in on the next CPA concert.
“Okay, guys, the alumni concert is coming up. I don’t need to remind you that some of our most prestigious alumni, and those with the deepest pockets, come each year to be wowed by the students. Now that you’re seniors, you get the privilege of putting on the show. The theme this year is Icons. Each performance will need to feature an icon or an iconic piece from one of the decades since CPA was founded. A representative from each group needs to come up and pick a decade out of the hat.”
Jack gets up for us and takes a piece of paper out of the hat. He unfolds it and nods his head with a big smile on his face. He shows Mr. North the paper and holds it out to us as he comes back to his seat. “The eighties.”
The other four groups pick their decades, and Mr. North reminds us that this is the last all-school performance before the showcase audition invitations are handed out.
“Okay,” Ethan starts us off. “We’ve got to make a statement here. I’m thinking that whatever we choose, it should be something loud, something big, very rock-heavy. Last year I wanted to fall asleep from all the power ballads. Just because some of the alumni are elderly, it doesn’t mean that we can’t spice things up.”
We all agree. Plus, being loud always helps me with any nerves I have onstage. Churning out big power chords fast has a calming effect on me. I’m probably the only person who finds performing punk music therapeutic.
“Why don’t we put a punk spin on whatever song we choose?” I say.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Jack agrees.
We throw out names of the eighties’ musical icons: Madonna, Prince, Bruce Springsteen, The Police, and so on. Until we settle on
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