American Girl Contemporary Series 1, Book 2
Page 10
“Yeah, you and Logan!” Zane said enthusiastically. He leaned toward me, eyes bright. “You two are great together. When your set ended at the benefit show, I knew you two were going to be huge!”
You two. As in Logan and me. Performing as a duo. Permanently.
My brain felt like it had just been thrown into a blender. I realized I had no idea what to do.
Logan and I made a deal never to work together again, I thought. Maybe he’ll refuse to sign, and Zane will offer me a solo contract.
The words swam around on the page as I stared at the contract.
“Don’t worry, honey,” Mom said. “Dad and I have already read all the fine print on everything. Your music is protected.”
“Absolutely,” Zane agreed.
I nodded, scanning the contract. The typing was dense, and it was several pages long, but at the bottom of the fourth page, I found the signature lines … and gasped. I could hardly believe it—Logan had signed on his line in sharp, blocky letters.
“What do you think?” Zane asked me.
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. For the first time in a very long while, I had no idea what to say. Then Logan’s face flashed in my memory, bright with pride, the way he’d looked at the end of our benefit show.
Maybe being in a duo with Logan won’t be so bad, I told myself. After all, no matter what, Logan loves music as much as I do. That’s the most important thing.
“Tenney, are you okay?” Mom asked.
“Yes,” I told her.
Then I put the pen to the page and signed my name.
by Kate Cosentino
You put your life in my dreams
And help things go right behind the scenes
You mean so much to me
And I hope you see
Chorus:
That every time I play
You’re the music, you’re the music
In every word I sing
You’re the music, you’re the music
You are the music in me
When I look at the crowd
Your smiling face stands out
You taught me this is what life’s all about
So I hope I make you proud
’Cause every time I play
You’re the music, you’re the music
In every word I sing
You’re the music, you’re the music
You are the music in me
Bridge:
You’ll be by my side
So don’t be afraid
I’d rather say I tried
Than let this dream fade
Every time I play
You’re the music, you’re the music
In every word I sing
You’re the music, you’re the music
You are the music in me
by Ashley Leone
I thought I was the one who should be there
I thought it would be me
Got a taste of life’s dish of unfair
You showed me clarity
You are the one by her side
While I’m here on the sideline
Chorus:
I wish that I could be
Where you are, where you are
These words can only go
Go so far, go so far
I see you’ve got it under control
Just wish I could be the other hand to hold
I wish that I could be
Where you are, where you are
It was only going to be her and me
And then you came in with your thoughts
Planning everything so perfectly
Giving your best shot
Now while I’m over here alone
You’re making sure she isn’t on her own
I wish that I could be
Where you are, where you are
These words can only go
Go so far, go so far
I see you’ve got it under control
Just wish I could be the other hand to hold
I wish that I could be
Where you are, where you are
Bridge:
I’ve been so out of touch lately
Been caught up with myself
Been taking out my anger on somebody else
I’m so sorry
I know you don’t mean me any harm
You’re just being a good, good friend
Making light of the dark
I just want to be
Where you are, where you are
These words can only go
Go so far, go so far
So now we have worked it all out
Thank you for erasing my doubt
I just want to be
Where you are, where you are
KATE COSENTINO began playing the guitar and singing when she was six years old and wrote her first song at the age of ten, just like Tenney. Now seventeen, Kate is inspired by everything around her, writing songs about subjects ranging from Batman to the periodic table of elements.
Kate loves performing her songs onstage, and she dreams of moving the world with her music. She loves when people tell her that they relate to her song lyrics, because she sees music as a tool to comfort others and make people feel connected.
While writing the song “Music in Me,” Kate thought about what it was like for her as a young songwriter trying to find her voice as a musician. Like Tenney, Kate faced some disappointments, but she learned that the most important thing is to “always say yes to yourself. I believe in my music and I like it, and that’s what matters in the first place.” If other people like it, too, she adds, that’s just icing on the cake.
ASHLEY LEONE is a singer-songwriter from Blue Bell, Pennsylvania. Ashley always knew that she wanted a life in music, but she knew she’d have to overcome her shyness first.
She used to sing so quietly that she auditioned for her middle school choir three times before she earned a spot. Ashley was very nervous when she sang her first solo, but it helped her gain the confidence to start singing live in front of an audience. In high school, she began performing at open mics and earned a few acoustic shows, which led to opportunities at bigger venues with a band backing her up. Ashley says that when she performs, she takes on a different persona that is more confident and more true to herself.
Ashley enjoyed trying on yet another persona when she wrote the song “Where You Are” for Tenney. As a young songwriter and big fan of American Girl, Ashley felt a deep connection with Tenney’s go-getter attitude and the challenges she faced trying to balance her music career with her personal life. “Being a musician myself, I understand how Tenney feels when she can’t always be there for things,” Ashley says. “So this song definitely touches me.”
With gratitude to manuscript consultant Erika Wollam Nichols for her insights and knowledge of Nashville’s music industry; to music director Denise Stiff for guiding song development; and to songwriters Kate Cosentino and Ashley Leone for making Tenney’s story sing.
As a young reader, Kellen Hertz loved L. Frank Baum’s Wizard of Oz series. But since the job of Princess of Oz was already taken, she decided to become an author. Alas, her unfinished first novel was lost in a sea of library books on the floor of her room, forcing her to seek other employment. Since then Kellen has worked as a screenwriter, television producer, bookseller, and congressional staffer. She made her triumphant return to novel writing when she coauthored Lea and Camila with Lisa Yee before diving into the Tenney series for American Girl. Kellen lives with her husband and their son in Los Angeles.
Tenney & Logan are a harmonious match onstage . . .
But behind the scenes, they’re totally out of tune.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Tenney’s next book!
I always feel the same when I’m reaching the end of a performance: My feet feel like rocks from standing while holding my guitar, my fingers ache from picking strings, the back of my neck’s sweaty under my leather neck strap … and I’m in heave
n. That’s how I felt as Logan Everett and I played the last song of our set in the amphitheater at Cumberland Park.
As I sang, I scanned the crowd clustered on the wide lawn around the stage. We were playing as part of a one-day music festival to raise money for Nashville’s parks. I’d been to concerts here, but never as a performer. Now, with the stage solid under my boots, I felt proud of how far I had come.
A few months ago, I’d only daydreamed about performing my own songs in concert. When I told my parents I wanted to get serious about starting a career in music, they said I was too young. But with a combination of hard work and good timing, I managed to convince them that I was ready. I also caught the attention of Zane Cale, a producer at Mockingbird Records, who thought I had a lot of potential and wanted to become my manager. At first I was super excited, but then Zane decided that my songs would be even better if I was playing them with Logan, a fourteen-year-old drummer with a ton of talent—and an ego to match. Needless to say, we were still getting used to being partners. But as I watched the heads bobbing to our music, I couldn’t help feeling that I had ended up in the right place.
This was the largest audience we’d ever played for—even bigger than the enormous crowd that had shown up for our concert at Dad’s store last month in response to pop singer Belle Starr’s social media posts about Logan and me. Today’s turnout was so big because a lot of bands were playing after us at the festival, but, strangely, I wasn’t nervous. Instead, looking across the sea of shining faces, I felt as if I was made of light. Up above, the clouds in the bright blue sky seemed to bounce to our music.
With a flourish on my guitar and a final crash of Logan’s cymbals, our song ended. For a moment, the whole world took a breath. Then an explosion of applause nearly knocked me off my feet. I felt dizzy, like I’d just stepped off a merry-go-round.
“Thank you, Nashville!” I said into the mic.
“Yes!” Logan chimed in from behind his drum set. “We are Logan and Tenney!”
I wrinkled my nose. When Zane had signed us to a recording contract as a duo, he’d told us we needed to come up with an official band name. We’d decided to keep it simple and stick with Tenney & Logan. But for some reason, Logan always put his name first.
“We’re also Tenney and Logan,” I added jokingly. The crowd laughed. “Thanks so much for listening!” I said.
Logan stuck his drumsticks in his back pocket and slipped around his drum kit to join me as we took our bows.
“Good set,” I whispered to him as we made our way offstage.
Logan shrugged. “We could have been snappier on ‘Reach the Sky,’” he replied.
I felt a nip of annoyance but tried to ignore it. Since I’d started playing with Logan, I’d learned that he often focused more on what was wrong than on what was right.
“We sounded good,” I insisted as we jostled down the side steps behind the stage. “You’re just mad because I wouldn’t pick up the tempo.”
Logan cracked a smile. “You’re right,” he admitted.
“I know,” I said with a wink.
Ever since we’d signed our contract, Logan and I had been rehearsing twice a week. Usually, we got along, but we still clashed sometimes. In rehearsal, Logan often tried new things midsong without warning me, which drove me crazy, and he hated it when I insisted we practice a song until it was perfect. Still, when we really listened to each other, there was no question that we rocked.
“Tenney! Logan!”
I turned around. My little sister, Aubrey, rushed up in an excited whirl of pink sparkles. “You were awesome!” she squeaked, giving me a hug.
“Thanks,” I said.
“But wasn’t something missing from your show?” she asked playfully.
Logan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Missing?” he asked.
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like me, on accordion!” Aubrey proclaimed. “I’ve been practicing a lot, and I’m getting really good.”
“You are,” I admitted. Everyone in my family plays an instrument or two, and even though Aubrey’s only seven, she’s got some mean accordion skills.
“So can I back you guys up in your next show?” Aubrey begged, giving us her best hopeful puppy-dog look. Logan and I exchanged a glance.
“It’s not really that simple,” I pointed out gently. “We’d have to ask Mom and Dad, and Zane …”
“Oh,” Aubrey said, starting to wilt.
“But it’s not impossible,” Logan added, with an encouraging smile. “Just keep practicing, and we’ll see what happens.”
Aubrey hugged him with a squeal. Logan looked startled, as if he’d just been attacked by an overexcited baby bear. I had to laugh.
As Logan gently loosened Aubrey’s grip, Zane bounded up to us like a jackrabbit, grinning from ear to ear.
“There’s the dynamic duo!” he said to us. “Great set! Keep that up, and I can see a Tenney and Logan record in your future.”
“Really?” I said, excitement pulsing through me. A record of my own music! It was something I’d dreamed of for as long as I could remember.
“Well, we need to keep building your songwriting,” said Zane. “But you guys definitely have the musical chops and the onstage chemistry.”
“When you do start recording,” Aubrey told Zane, “I’d be willing to guest-star on a track if you need an accordion.”
“Good to know,” Zane told her with a wink. Aubrey looked thrilled as Zane turned to Logan. “Is your mom around?”
Logan shook his head. “She had to work at the last minute.”
“Okay,” Zane said. “Well, I’ve got something to discuss with y’all. Let’s go find Tenney’s parents.”
We followed him around the back of the amphitheater up to the main entrance. Out front, several food trucks sat in a row in the parking lot. My mom’s sky-blue truck was smack in the middle, its chrome hubcaps as shiny as mirrors. GEORGIA’S GENUINE TENNESSEE HOT CHICKEN was stenciled across the side in red cursive letters.
As we got closer, Dad stuck his head out of the truck’s service window and waved to us. He owns a music store in East Nashville, where we live, but he helps Mom out with her truck when he can. “Hey, Georgia, the Gruesome Twosome is back!” he called to my mom inside the truck. “How’s that for a band name, Tenn?”
I grinned. “I think we’ll stick with Tenney and Logan for now.”
Mom opened the truck’s back door. “Hey there!” she greeted us, sweeping some loose tendrils of carrot-red hair back under her bandanna. “From in here, you two sounded great.”
“I think they could use some accordion,” Aubrey said.
“Glad to know you have an opinion, Aubrey,” Dad joked.
Before I could say anything, Logan broke in. “Are you guys done serving for the day?” he asked my parents.
“For the most part,” Mom replied. “Lunch rush is over.”
Logan looked crushed. “Does that mean you’re out of hot chicken?”
“I didn’t say that,” Mom said, putting a hand on her hip. “I thought you two might be hungry, so I saved you some.”
Logan’s eyes brightened. “Thanks!”
We sat behind the food truck on folding chairs, at the card table Mom always sets up for a rest area. Dad brought everyone watermelon lemonades as Mom served up brown-paper trays of hot chicken, cheddar biscuits, and slices of watermelon. Logan dug in like he hadn’t eaten in days. I drained my lemonade, realizing how thirsty I was after singing.
“Y’all should be proud of yourselves,” Zane said to Logan and me. He leaned back in his chair, pushing the worn porkpie hat he always wore off his face. “The more shows you play together, the better you sound.”
“Thanks,” I replied, pleased. We’d played four shows in the past month. I thought we’d been sounding great, but I hadn’t wanted to seem like a show-off by saying it out loud.
“When are we going to start booking some paid gigs?” Logan asked.
“Soon, I
hope,” Zane replied. “But remember, you’re just starting out. We’re going to have to play at least some shows for free as the Nashville music community gets more familiar with who y’all are. Then, once we’ve built a loyal fan base, we can book more paid club gigs. Does that make sense?”
I nodded, but Logan’s mouth twisted into an uncertain knot. “I guess so,” he said at last.
“Good,” Zane said. “But there’s something even more important we need to focus on. You two need to start building your own musical style together, as Tenney and Logan.”
I scrunched up my nose. “I don’t understand; you just said we sounded great.”
I already worked really hard to find my own voice, I thought to myself. Can’t Logan just adapt to my style?
“You do sound great,” Zane said, looking from me to Logan. “You guys are a solid team musically, but to have a professional career you need to be more than solid—you need to be distinctive. That means having a unique sound. To get there, you need to be writing songs together.”
Logan and I both went silent. I wasn’t surprised by Zane’s suggestion. After all, bands write songs together all the time. But the thought of writing a song from scratch with Logan made me nervous. I already had a sound as a songwriter, and I liked it. The few songs I’d heard that Logan had written were harder rock ’n’ roll than what I liked. On top of this, when Logan and I had worked together on my song “Where You Are,” we’d bickered all the time about our musical opinions. Wouldn’t that only get worse if we were writing together? Just thinking about it made my head hurt.
Logan seemed to be reading my mind. “I write better alone,” he told Zane.
“Me, too,” I said, relieved.
The adults gave us skeptical looks.
“It’s true,” I insisted.
“I’m sure it is right now,” Zane said lightly. “But you don’t climb a mountain by going around it.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Dad chimed in as Mom nodded.