by Lucy Connell
‘Yes, the meeting is over,’ Layla hisses. ‘Because you’re not taking this seriously. Clearly, you don’t want to win.’
‘I do want to win,’ I protest. ‘I really do! I want to be a success at this but –’
‘Nancy, if you want to be the best at something, you have to ruffle a few feathers. That’s life. And, unlike your sister, you’re obviously not made for the cut-throat world of winning,’ Layla says in a strop, marching towards the door. ‘At least Nina isn’t afraid to go after what she wants. You can’t even jump the first hurdle!’
I sigh. ‘Layla, wait. Don’t leave. I can think of something better than –’
‘Better than a world-famous band giving you an exclusive story about their next single? I don’t think so,’ she declares. ‘I really believed that you would be the key to us winning this competition. But you don’t want it badly enough. Sophie and I really want this, Nancy. That internship is an incredible chance for our futures, but if you’re happy to stay where you are, not bothering to try –’
‘That’s not fair, Layla. This is ridiculous!’ I say, throwing my arms up. ‘I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal of it.’
‘I told you, Sophie,’ Layla says, swinging open the classroom door. ‘She’s more suited to selling lobster hats.’
She stalks out of the room and Sophie turns to me apologetically.
‘She’s in a bit of a mood,’ she explains quietly. ‘Just think about it, yeah?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, slumping back in my chair. ‘Tell her I’ll think about it.’
‘Cool!’ Sophie grins at me. ‘What a great meeting!’
She waves goodbye and then runs out, chasing Layla down the corridor to deliver the news. I bury my head in my hands, trying to remind myself that Layla can say a lot of things she doesn’t really mean – although I’m starting to believe some of those things myself.
I get out my phone and look at my Instagram, which I haven’t updated in a while. I notice that I’ve lost some followers. Only a few months ago, I was doing so well on social media that a brand sent me a pair of shoes to wear in a post. I click on to Layla’s page – her followers have gone up and the last photo she posted was before our meeting started. It’s of her at her laptop with a serious expression. The caption says: ‘Ready to get to work #allthatglitters #newwebsite #lifestyle #bringonthechallenge #motivation #followyourdreams.’ It already has a ton of likes and comments, praising her for her work ethic and for being so inspiring.
I make a face at my phone and go back to my feed, scrolling down. Everyone is doing something. Whether it’s work posts, like Layla’s, or pictures at some amazing event. They’re all doing something. I’m doing nothing. Maybe Layla is right. Maybe I’m doomed to end up stuck here. Selling lobster hats.
I get to Miles’s latest picture and smile. It’s a good photo from their last tour. He’s at his Chasing Chords drum kit and the photographer has captured him in the middle of twirling a drumstick. Underneath, he’s written the caption, ‘Love my job #throwback #ChasingChords.’
I put my phone in my bag and lean forward, resting my forehead against my arms on the table. A voice suddenly comes from the doorway, making me jump.
‘Hey, Nancy.’
‘Jimmy! You gave me a heart attack!’
He comes to sit down at the desk next to me, with a bemused expression.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask him, checking the time. ‘School finished an hour ago.’
‘I was working on my website in the computer room,’ he explains, before eyeing me suspiciously. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Same. I just had a meeting with Layla and Sophie. I thought I’d hang back to … uh … brainstorm. Anyway, have you launched your website yet? I hear it’s amazing.’
He frowns at me, confused. ‘Who told you that? I haven’t shown it to anyone.’
‘Uh … um …’
Oh god. I can’t tell him about Sophie. Otherwise, he might get angry and tell a teacher, and that might scupper our chances. COME ON, BRAIN. THINK OF SOMETHING. DON’T LET ME DOWN NOW.
‘You told me,’ I say.
‘I told you?’
‘Yeah, during our walk on the beach, you told me it was amazing. Remember?’
To my complete surprise, he grins and nods.
‘Ha, yes. I do think I referred to myself as a genius.’
PHEW. Well done, brain.
‘I’m going to launch it tomorrow, I think,’ he continues. ‘I wanted a bit of content up there first before I unleash it for all to see. If people like it, they’ll want more straight away. It’s an impatient world.’
I smile. ‘You sound like Layla. You should have seen her during our meeting. It was like a whole new person. I have to say, I’m kind of impressed. Now that I’ve seen her in action, I can picture her becoming a CEO.’
Jimmy glances at her scribbles on the board. ‘How did the “brainstorm” go, then? I hope you came up with more ideas than “more vlogs”.’
‘Actually, it didn’t go all that well,’ I admit, realizing I may as well tell the truth as it’s Jimmy. ‘It turns out I’m not very good at all this music-writing stuff.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ he says without hesitation. ‘You kept that Chasing Chords website going without any help from those two, and that took a lot of creativity. And you’ve always talked about how much music means to you. You were always blasting music out of your room at all hours.’ He shoots me a mischievous smile. ‘I remember Nina and I always getting annoyed at you when we were trying to work in her room and you’d be playing some new album on repeat at the highest volume so the whole street could hear. Then over dinner afterwards you’d go into SO much detail about each song, analysing every lyric and shooting down any comment Nina or I made about it being “manufactured music”. This was before we were BEST friends, of course.’
‘I remember.’ I sigh. ‘Yeah, well, Layla and Sophie don’t want me analysing music lyrics. They want real music stories about the artists themselves. Layla wants me to ask Chasing Chords for their help, but I don’t want to do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘You don’t think that’s bad?’ I say, taken aback by his casual reaction.
‘You’re trying to be a music editor, right? You happen to be friends with a really famous band. It would be strange to ignore that. I’m sure they’d be happy to at least give you an interview or something. Why wouldn’t they want to help you with a school project?’
‘I thought it would be weird to ask them.’
‘I don’t think so. If they don’t want to do an interview, the worst that will happen is they’ll say something along the lines of, “Sorry, Nancy, we don’t want to do an interview.” And that will be it.’
‘I guess I could ask.’
‘You can’t be a journalist and not ask any questions,’ Jimmy says, laughing as he gets to his feet. ‘Taking risks is all part of the fun. Trust me, I’m worried that I might be expelled when I launch my website tomorrow, but you can’t get to the top without ruffling a few feathers.’
‘OK, now you’re literally repeating Layla word for word.’
‘Worrying,’ he says, stopping in the doorway. ‘If Layla’s making sense, then this competition really is having a positive effect on the school. I’ll see you tomorrow and don’t forget to check out my website first thing. We may be competitors and everything, but you did say I was your best friend.’
‘Are you ever going to stop teasing me for the best-friend thing?’
He looks thoughtful. ‘Nope.’
‘See you tomorrow. Oh and, Jimmy? Maybe you should change your password.’
‘Huh?’
‘I … read an article about it. Yeah. It’s really important to stay on top of changing your password regularly. Just a thought.’
‘OK.’ He laughs, giving me a funny look. ‘Thanks for the really random tip.’
When he leaves, I get out my phone. I take a few deep breaths, c
ollecting myself, and then tap on Miles’s name in my contacts. It starts to ring.
‘Hello?’
Oh my god, it’s him! I hang up immediately.
For goodness’ sake, Nancy, OF COURSE IT’S HIM. YOU JUST CALLED HIS NUMBER.
And now I’ve hung up on him! Like some crazy stalker! WHY DID I DO THAT? Argh, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do, what do I do, what do I …
My phone starts vibrating. It’s him! Calling back! I stare at it in utter panic and then my brain kicks in, making me answer before he hangs up.
‘Hello?’ I say as casually as possible.
‘Hey, Nancy,’ Miles says. ‘I think you just called but it got cut off.’
The sound of his voice is already making me feel VERY sweaty.
‘Oh, really?’ I croak. ‘I didn’t call you – it must have been an accident. I think my pocket called you, ha ha ha.’
It is so obvious I’m lying. And WHY did I even lie in the first place?! He already gave me the perfect excuse that it cut out! I could have gone with losing signal! WHY didn’t I go with that?!
‘So, whassup?’ I say, putting on a weird Bugs Bunny voice.
Oh god. What am I doing? I have NEVER used ‘whassup’ in my life. And I have NEVER attempted a Bugs Bunny voice before. Why does Miles have this effect on me?!
‘Not much,’ he replies, kindly pretending that I didn’t just put on a Bugs Bunny voice. ‘How’s everything with you? It was nice seeing you in Norfolk.’
‘Yeah. Yeah, that was cool. Um, not much is going on with me. I’m working on this big school project, but it’s kind of boring. I need to phone Mum actually to come pick me up, I’m still sitting here in a classroom like a big loser, ha ha ha, so I’ll be heading home soon.’
THIS. IS. NOT. GOING. WELL.
‘I was thinking of calling you actually,’ Miles says, again kindly not making fun of me for rambling. ‘There’s this party on Saturday night. I wondered if you wanted to come …’
‘Huh?’ I croak.
‘A big music label is throwing it – you know Emerald Entertainment? – and they invited Chasing Chords for some reason, even though we’re technically signed to one of their rivals. But Chase and Nina are going – did she mention it?’
‘I … uh … I think I do remember her saying something last night, but I was distracted by this cat sitting outside our window.’
Seriously. Why do I even bother talking?
‘Cool, I love cats,’ he says, going with it. ‘You’d love my cat, Buttercup. But, anyway, Chase mentioned you were having a bit of a tough time at home. I heard about your dad.’
‘Oh. Yeah. Weird.’
‘I bet. I reckon you could do with some cheering up, so what do you think? You could make your way down to London on Saturday and we could all go together.’
‘You’re seriously inviting me to the Emerald Entertainment party?’
‘Yeah, I am,’ he says, and I can hear from the way he says it that he’s smiling. ‘Seriously.’
It’s strange how life can be. One moment, you’ve got your forehead flat on a desk, wondering how on earth you are going to get celebrity news for your brand-new website and win a really important competition that will prove to everyone that you’re not, in fact, a big fat nothing.
And the next moment, a famous drummer is inviting you to a glamorous music party packed with celebrities.
‘Nancy?’ Miles jolts me out of my musing. ‘Would you like to come on Saturday?’
‘You know what, Miles,’ I say, looking out of the window at the sun breaking through the clouds. ‘I’d love to.’
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Nina
‘That was AWFUL!’
I wince, dipping my head so that I’m hidden from view by the piano’s music stand. Thankfully, the conductor of our group rehearsal isn’t talking about me, personally. At least I hope he’s not. The group practice has just finished for the day and he’s shaking his head in despair.
‘You are all out of time,’ he says, throwing his hands up in the air. ‘You’re not a team! How can I work with you if none of you will work together? I hope it will be better tomorrow, otherwise I will not be in a good mood.’
We sit in silence as he finishes tutting and then says, ‘DISMISSED!’ before shutting his music book and marching out of the room, muttering something about amateurs. Caroline, who’s observed the session again, doesn’t add anything as she follows him. I was fifteen minutes early today.
With the teachers out of the room, the atmosphere relaxes, although not in a particularly nice way.
‘You played that last page at the wrong tempo,’ a violinist snaps at the girl next to him. ‘It made us all out of time.’
‘That wasn’t my fault,’ she says defensively. ‘It was the wind section.’
‘Maybe we wouldn’t be out of time if we could hear ourselves,’ a boy holding an oboe declares, before looking over his shoulder at Jordan and me. ‘All I can hear is the stupid tinkering of the piano!’
‘Hey, you should be grateful. I covered for you when you messed up the middle section,’ Jordan says, glaring at him. ‘And, if you ask me, we should be blaming the vocals, which were completely flat that last time.’
The room descends into uproar as everyone starts defending themselves, accusing others and voicing their opinions, talking over each other and getting louder and louder as they realize no one is listening to them. I sit where I am, grateful to be at the back, hoping that no one is about to lay into me.
It’s been a tough week.
‘Hey, hey, HEY! Everybody, stop it!’
Grace’s voice rings out so clearly that everyone stops and turns to look at her. She’s climbed up on to her chair and addresses the room.
‘This is exactly what he was saying! We aren’t working like a team when we play, remember? And we’re sure not acting like one now! If we’re going to play this piece well in the showcase, which we all want to do, then we need to respect and listen to each other. Come on, I know there’s a lot of ego when it comes to the arts, but how about we don’t live up to the stereotype. There has to be a way we can make this work. Right?’
I beam at her, catching her eye as she finishes her speech. I’m just thinking about how I wish I could be as confident and clear-headed as Grace, when I notice her trying to tell me something with her eyes. She’s encouraging me to speak. The room is completely silent. Oh no. I try to convey a message back with my eyes. No, no, no, don’t make me do this. Her eyes are now practically bulging out of her head as she pleads with me to stand up and agree with her.
I have to. I don’t want to, but I have to. Because I’m so in awe of her and she needs my help right now.
‘Um,’ I begin quietly, rising from my piano stool.
But I stop, because Jordan is already on his feet.
‘Grace’s right,’ he says, making everyone turn to look at him. ‘We need to be working together. No wonder it’s all over the place.’
Grace looks as surprised as I do at his words. I should feel grateful for him speaking up, so I didn’t have to have all that attention on me, but I feel disappointed that I didn’t leap to my feet as soon as Grace finished speaking. It should have been me backing her up, not Jordan. If Nancy had been here instead of me, she wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment when it came to standing up with her friend.
‘Look,’ Jordan continues, relishing the opportunity to lead the troupe, ‘for what it’s worth, violin section, you sounded incredible to me. When you come in after my introduction, I almost forget to keep playing – it’s so beautiful.’
The violinists all smile at him. He glances at Grace and she gives him the thumbs up.
‘And woodwind section, wow. So beautiful and delicate, those little trills you do on the third page? It blows me away every time. Vocals, I’m sorry I said you were flat. I would be too, if I had to sing myself hoarse all day. Everyone else here has instruments that we can pic
k up and put down –’ he pauses, glancing at the grand piano he plays – ‘well, maybe not pick up …’
They all laugh at his joke.
‘Seriously though, we all know that the singing is the bit that’s really going to hit the audience.’
At this point, the whole orchestra is nodding along, and the singers look so touched by Jordan’s words that I think some of them even have tears in their eyes.
‘The point is, we’re all very talented in this room. Otherwise we wouldn’t be here. But we’ve been so focused on ourselves and our own music that we haven’t been listening to anybody else’s. I reckon it’s about time we did.’
The room bursts into applause and there are even some cheers and whoops.
‘So, here’s what I propose,’ he tells his captive audience. ‘I think tomorrow morning, before our individual lessons, we meet here and give it a try again, really listening and respecting what our fellow musicians are doing. Everyone in?’
More applause and cheering, along with some stray shouts of ‘YEAH!’
‘Good. And I have another idea. As Grace quite rightly pointed out, we haven’t been working as a team. That doesn’t surprise me. I don’t know most of your names and it’s hard to play as a team when I’m thinking of you as your instrument and then a number. Isn’t that right, Flute Two?’
Flute Two laughs and then nods in agreement.
‘So, instead of us all escaping to our individual practice rooms, I reckon we have a little gathering in our halls! It’s time for a party.’
The room erupts into excited cheers before giving Jordan a standing ovation as he high-fives a group of woodwind players surrounding him. Everyone starts talking excitedly about the party as they pack up and Grace makes her way across to me.
‘Who knew?’ she says, waiting for me to get my music together and watching Jordan as he talks to his new adoring fans. ‘I hate to say it, but he’s gone up in my estimations.’
‘It was you who started it,’ I comment. ‘You were amazing. If it wasn’t for you, then none of this would be happening.’
‘It was nothing. I was just tired of all the shouting. And a very similar thing happened with my football team last year, so I’ve had practice.’
