by Kellen Hertz
Logan flinched as if I’d tried to hit him. “Yeah, right,” he said, but I could tell that my words had shaken his confidence.
Before he could respond, I pushed through the crowd away from him. For a moment I stood there, lost among strangers. Then a voice broke into my thoughts.
“You look awfully serious for someone who just played a great set.”
I looked up. Belle Starr stood before me. She flashed a brilliant smile.
“You really liked it?” I asked.
She nodded, and an excited squeak popped out of my mouth before I could stop it.
Belle laughed. “You guys have an awesome sound, and I love your voice,” she said. “Do you write your own songs?”
I nodded. “I had a little extra help on that first song, though,” I confessed, hoping she hadn’t noticed how messy it had started. “We’re still working out the kinks on that one.”
Belle nodded and slid into a chair next to me. She took a muffin from the bread basket and ate a piece.
“Songwriting’s tough, right?” Belle said to me. “It’s such a great feeling when you write something good, but when you’re stuck …”
“It breaks your heart,” I said without thinking.
“Exactly!” Belle agreed, her eyes bright with understanding. Suddenly, it felt like I’d known her for a long time.
“Can I ask you some questions?” I said.
“Sure,” she said. “Ask me anything you want.”
I’m not sure how long we talked, but it was a while. We talked about our favorite songs and our best and worst performances. I asked Belle how she got started in music. She told me about growing up in East Tennessee and learning guitar from her uncle Pip. She told me about getting discovered doing karaoke at a go-kart track and how she’d moved to Nashville once she’d signed her record deal.
“My mom came with me, but all the rest of my family and friends still live back home,” Belle said.
“You must miss them,” I said.
Belle nodded, resting her chin in her hand. “I love making music more than anything, but it can get lonely,” she said quietly. “Can I give you some advice?”
I nodded and looked Belle in the eye.
“Keep your friends as close to your heart as your music,” she said. “Even tiny successes are better when you can share them with the people you care about the most.”
I nodded, my heart sinking as I thought of Jaya.
Jaya!
I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to check the time. My breath caught—it was a quarter past one. I had five missed calls from Dad.
“Oh no,” I said. “I’m sorry, Belle, but I have to go.”
“Sure thing,” Belle said. “But if you have any more questions, Tenney, you can always e-mail me.” She handed me her card. “It might take me a little bit, but I promise I’ll write back.”
“Really?” I said.
“Really,” Belle said, her expression serious. “I consider us friends now. And I always have time for my friends.”
With that, she squeezed my arm and slipped back into the crowd. I felt like my fairy godmother had just flown off, leaving me surrounded by her magical glow.
The next few minutes were a blur. I grabbed my guitar and thanked Zane and Ellie. Logan caught my eye and I nodded a good-bye, but he just sneered and looked away. I shook off my annoyance and ran out to Dad’s truck.
“Where’ve you been?” Dad asked. “I tried calling—”
“I know,” I interrupted. “Do you think we’ll make it to school before the Spring Clean ends at two?”
We looked at the clock on the dashboard. It was one thirty.
“We can try,” he said.
My lower lip quivered as I nodded. Inside, I was flooded with guilt. How could I have forgotten to check the time? I’d gotten completely distracted by Belle Starr. I felt terrible.
Then we hit traffic, and I felt even worse. I texted Jaya to say we were going to be late, but she didn’t respond. By the time we turned into the Magnolia Hills parking lot, the clock read 2:23 p.m.
“Jaya might still be there,” Dad said.
I jumped out of the truck and ran to the front doors. They were all locked. Overhead, an orange banner advertising the Spring Clean flapped in the wind, taunting me.
I had missed Jaya’s book sale.
I called Jaya’s cell phone as soon as I got home. She didn’t answer, so I left a message. Then I waited. And waited. I double-checked my text messages a dozen times. No response from Jaya.
“Just give her space,” Mom said, squeezing my shoulder. “She’s probably celebrating the fund-raiser with her family.”
I nodded, but I was anxious. Jaya always texted me back right away, even when she was super busy.
I tried to keep myself occupied while I waited to hear from her. I restrung my banjo and sorted my guitar pick collection by color. I even answered every single one of Aubrey’s bazillion questions about what it was like to meet Belle Starr. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and it helped me to share her excitement for a while—but Jaya was always at the back of my mind.
By four o’clock, I couldn’t wait any longer. I needed to talk to Jaya face-to-face. I got permission from my mom to walk over to Jaya’s house and grabbed Waylon’s leash off the kitchen hook.
Jaya has to understand, I thought as Waylon yanked me down the sidewalk. As sad as I was that I had missed the book sale, performing at the artists’ brunch had been amazing. I’d met Belle and performed in front of musicians and songwriters who might want to work with me, and promoters who could actually book me for real paying shows! Jaya wouldn’t hold that against me, would she?
Still, as Waylon and I walked up the drive to Jaya’s modern house, my stomach bunched up with worry.
I knocked and waited for what seemed like an excruciatingly long time. Then Jaya opened the door. Seeing me, she locked her arms across her chest.
“Hi,” she said in a flat voice.
“Hey,” I said, trying to sound upbeat. “I know you probably got my texts, but I just wanted to tell you that I’m really sorry I ended up missing the book sale.”
Jaya shrugged, her mouth scrunching into a frown.
“How did it go?” I asked.
“We made nine hundred and forty-two dollars,” she said. “And that includes the two hundred dollars that Holliday’s dad donated.”
That was a lot less than the three thousand dollars that we had planned to raise for Mina’s school. No wonder Jaya was upset.
“Charlie Wakida didn’t show up, and Tara Higgins got the flu and had to stay home,” Jaya continued. “We had too many books and not enough people to help.”
“Oh no,” I said. Now I felt even worse that I hadn’t been there to help.
“Maybe we could do another sale to raise the rest of the money?” I suggested.
Jaya shook her head. “We already donated the books that didn’t sell to Goodwill.”
We stood there silently. I wasn’t sure what to say. I was trying to think of another way we could raise money when Jaya spoke.
“How was your performance?” she asked, although it didn’t sound like she really cared.
“Good!” I said. I told Jaya all about our set and about meeting Belle Starr, hoping that it would cheer her up.
As I talked, Jaya crouched down to pet Waylon, like she wasn’t even listening.
“Belle’s really nice,” I persisted. “We talked about songwriting and performing, and she gave me tons of advice—”
“That’s great,” Jaya interrupted. “I should go. I have homework to finish,” she said. She turned away without meeting my eyes and started inside.
“I’m sorry you’re mad at me,” I blurted. “But I did try to get there in time.”
Jaya looked back at me. Her eyes were sharp. “I just think you need to admit that things have changed,” she said.
“What do you mean?” I said, confused.
“Ever since you started playing professionally, a
ll you talk about is your new song or your next show,” Jaya replied.
“That’s not true,” I said.
“We said the fund-raiser was going to be our project,” she said, hardness creeping into her voice. “Then you disappeared.”
“Only after you brought Holliday in to replace me,” I retorted.
“I needed help,” she said forcefully. “I couldn’t get you on the phone for more than a minute before you got distracted by whatever song was in your head that day. And as soon as you got a chance to perform somewhere, you forgot all about the book sale.”
My temper rose inside me, but I kept my voice calm. “I didn’t forget. I had to rehearse for a huge performance,” I reminded her.
“Exactly! All you do is rehearse,” Jaya shot back.
“Because it’s important,” I insisted.
“More important than Mina and her classmates?” Jaya asked.
I scoffed. “You know that’s not what I meant. Today’s performance was the most important show of my life.”
“You always say that,” Jaya said softly.
“Because it’s true!” I insisted. “Every performance I do is important. Developing a musical career takes time and devotion.”
“You know what else takes time and devotion, Tenney?” Jaya retorted. “Being a good friend.”
I squinted at her, stunned. “It’s not my fault that my show was the same day as your book sale,” I said.
“You’re right,” Jaya said. “But it is your fault that you care more about music than you do about your friends.”
Her words sliced into my heart. I was on the verge of tears, but I fought them back. “I’m sorry you feel that way,” I said, as strongly as I could.
Jaya’s mouth twisted into a sad knot. I thought she might apologize, but all she said was, “Me, too.”
With a nod, I blinked back the tears pricking my eyes. Then I took off with Waylon down the driveway, leaving Jaya alone on her cold concrete steps.
It’s painful to be in a fight with your best friend, but it’s agonizing to be in a fight when you go to the same school, are in the same homeroom, and sit next to each other in the same row—like Jaya and I do. From the minute I got to school on Monday, we couldn’t avoid each other, and things were awkward. I spent first period staring at the back of Jaya’s head, and when Ms. Carter assigned us to the same group for an activity, we both avoided speaking directly to each other.
Part of me wanted to tell her that I was sorry and let her know how much I valued her friendship. Another part wanted to tell her that if she didn’t understand how important music was to me, then maybe we shouldn’t be friends. The more I thought about it, the more my feelings melted into a confusing muddle, so I didn’t say anything.
At lunch, Jaya ate with Holliday. I sat in the back of the cafeteria alone with my songwriting journal. I tried to write down how I felt, but my thoughts were like scattered leaves, blowing everywhere. Finally, I turned to where I’d started working on the lyrics for “Where You Are.” The first page was covered with brainstorms and scrawled chord notes. Across from it, I’d written out the song’s rough lyrics: two verses, a chorus, and a third verse.
The song stormed through my head as I read. The words had an angry edge, the way I’d felt after Jaya and I had argued. For a fleeting moment, I thought of Logan and the awful things we had said to each other at the brunch. I quickly pushed the memory out of my head. After all, I might never see Logan again. But Jaya was my best friend. Right now, all I felt was regret and loneliness, and a need to tell Jaya that she mattered to me.
Just then, a memory flashed in my mind of Mina telling us that her song was a prayer of hope for things to get better. I took a breath and turned to a clean page. My mind cleared, and a new lyric wafted into my head, fresh and bright. In a rush of inspiration, I poured my feelings about Jaya onto the page. As I wrote, my frustrations and sadness about our fight melted away.
When the bell rang at the end of the lunch hour, I felt a little better. But while working on my new song had helped me get out my emotions, I knew it hadn’t fixed my problem. I still missed Jaya, and our friendship was still broken.
I needed some advice—and I knew there was only one person who could help.
At the end of the school day, my classmates rushed through the halls, eager to get outside and enjoy the sunny afternoon. I spotted Jaya walking with Holliday. They hugged good-bye before Jaya pushed through the doors to leave.
I squared my shoulders and sidled over to Holliday’s locker right as she started spinning the combination lock.
“Hi, Tenney,” she said, looking a bit surprised.
“Hey,” I replied. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Holliday nodded, opening her locker. Most kids at Magnolia Hills put a sticker or two on their locker doors, but Holliday had covered hers with glossy lavender wrapping paper with silver dots. I caught a glimpse of a miniature sparkly chandelier hanging inside. I couldn’t help but admire it.
“Is this about your fight with Jaya?” Holliday asked.
I nodded. “Have you talked to her about it?”
“A little,” Holliday admitted. “She’s pretty mad at you.”
I shifted awkwardly. It felt weird to be talking like this with Holliday. Sure, we’d worked together on the book drive and the Jamboree, but we had never talked about anything personal.
I think Holliday could tell I was uncomfortable, because when she looked at me, her eyes were gentle.
“I know how important your music is to you, Tenney,” Holliday said carefully. “Jaya does, too. I just think she started to feel overlooked, like you didn’t care about her or the book drive. Then when you didn’t show up, it hurt her feelings.”
“I know.” I sighed, leaning against the locker beside me.
“Do you want me to talk to her for you?” she asked.
“You would do that?” I asked. “Why?”
Holliday twisted a golden curl of hair between her fingers, thinking. “Because I know how much your friendship means to Jaya,” she said slowly. “It’s true that we could have used more help at the book sale. But actually, if you had been there, it wouldn’t have mattered to her as much that we didn’t raise enough money. I think Jaya was so sad that you weren’t there that her heart wasn’t in it.”
“Really?” I asked, sort of surprised. “I mean, you and Jaya seemed to be a pretty good team. I thought you didn’t really need me, to be honest.”
Holliday looked down at her sparkly sneakers, almost as if she was embarrassed. “You probably felt that way because I sort of took over—I know I do that sometimes.”
Her mouth twisted, and for a split second, I thought she might cry. Instead, she took a big breath and lifted her eyes to meet my gaze straight on.
“I didn’t mean to push you out,” she told me. “I’m sorry for making you feel unimportant.”
“That’s okay,” I said, realizing that Holliday was being sincere. “It wasn’t really your fault. I could have tried harder to pitch in.”
“Maybe it’s not too late,” Holliday said. “You should find a way to show Jaya what her friendship means to you.”
She was right … but how? Suddenly, an idea exploded in my brain.
“I know!” I said. “We still need nineteen hundred dollars for Mina’s school. What if I raised it? I could save the school and prove to Jaya that I value our friendship at the same time!”
Holliday hesitated. “Tenney, nineteen hundred dollars is a lot of money …”
“I could have a benefit concert at my dad’s store,” I exclaimed, the thought rushing into my head. “I could sell tickets and get someone great to play, like Portia!”
“True,” Holliday admitted. Her eyes grew lively, and I could see the idea taking hold in her brain. “If enough people showed up, we could actually reach our goal.”
“We?” I said.
Holliday hesitated. “I—I mean, I could help if you wanted me to,” she spu
ttered.
“Are you kidding?” I said, beaming at her. “There’s no way I could do this without you.”
“A benefit concert is such a great idea,” Holliday declared as we walked out of the school. “Tenney, you have to perform! You’re so talented, and this is a cause that means something to you.”
“I don’t know,” I said uncertainly. “I don’t want Jaya to think I only want to put on the concert so that I can perform.”
Holliday put a hand on her hip. “Jaya cares about raising the money for Mina’s school,” she pointed out. “If you help to make that happen, she’ll be thrilled.”
I wasn’t so sure. After all, raising the money for Mina’s school had been Jaya’s idea. I didn’t want her to feel like I was taking the project away from her. In fact, I wanted the exact opposite—to show her that our hearts are in the same place. To do that, I needed to make peace with Jaya before I did anything else.
The next morning, I waited for Jaya by her locker. When she didn’t show up, I went to find her in her favorite place: the art room. Our art teacher lets her hang out there before and after school to work on her own projects—and she usually goes there when she’s upset or stressed out. I wasn’t sure whether she’d be there, but I got lucky. When I walked in, she was hanging a freshly printed purple-and-yellow letterpress poster on a line to dry.
“Hey, Jaya,” I said.
She looked at me, surprised. “Hi,” she said. She moved to the art sink and started washing her hands.
“Can I talk to you for a second?” I asked.
Jaya dried her hands with a paper towel and looked at me expectantly.
“I just wanted to know if you could help me with something,” I started. I saw a glimmer of interest in Jaya’s eyes, but she didn’t say anything. So I took a breath and told her about my conversation with Holliday and our idea for the benefit concert. “I’m not sure if we can raise all the money we still need to repair the school, but at least we can try,” I continued. “I told you how sorry I am that I couldn’t make it to the book sale. Now I want to make it up to you.”
Jaya’s expression softened. “That’s a lot of work,” she said. “Do you really think you have time for that?”
