Tara's Triumph

by Cindy Jeffries

  Tara looked up from her notebook and smiled. She was feeling quite happy today. “It’s a song I’m writing,” she explained. “I’m going over to the Rock Department later to try it out.”

  “What’s it about?” asked Chloe. “You seem to have been working very hard on it.”

  Tara nodded. “Yes, but I think it’s going to be worth it. It’s about him.” She pointed up to the picture on the wall above her bed. “If the song is good enough, I’ll put it on the charity CD. I’m still going to ask Judge Jim if he’ll cut a track for the CD as well,” Tara added. “If I’m lucky, I might even see him this afternoon.”

  There was usually a movie to watch on Sunday evening, and it was always very popular. But Tara wasn’t interested today. After gulping down a quick dinner, she headed over to the Rock Department. Everyone else would be going to watch the movie, so she should have the place to herself.

  As she opened the door to the building, she could hear that there were still a couple of people in the main room. She groaned with annoyance. There was no mistaking Ed’s trademark guitar wail. He and Ben were jamming. Had they forgotten about dinner?

  Tara could have taken her Rickenbacker into one of the small side rooms, but she didn’t like playing cooped up in a tight space, and she didn’t like not getting her own way either.

  “Time for dinner!” she yelled at the two boys, who were rocking away together. Ben nodded, and continued playing. Ed hadn’t even noticed her.

  Tara strode over to the boys’ amps and unplugged both their guitars. Silence reigned. But not for long.

  “Hey!”

  “What’d you do that for?”

  Ed put his guitar down on its stand and reached for the lead. Tara spun away from him, still holding it.

  “Careful,” warned Ben. “It’s still plugged into his guitar.” He quickly unplugged his own guitar and set it down. “What’s up, Tara?”

  Tara handed Ed his lead.

  “It’s dinnertime,” she said again. “If you don’t hurry, you’ll miss it.”

  Ben pointed to some empty potato-chip bags and soda cans on a nearby chair.

  “We don’t want dinner,” he told her. “We went to the snack shop yesterday and stocked up.”

  “But the movie will start soon,” she objected.

  “Why are you so concerned about us all of a sudden?” demanded Ed. “We don’t want to watch the movie this week. It’s a really girlie one. We’re not interested.”

  “Yeah,” agreed Ben. “We were enjoying ourselves here. If you want to play, why not join in? It would help to have you on your cool new bass anyway. You didn’t have to unplug us.”

  “I don’t want to jam,” Tara told them. “I want to work something out.”

  “Well, go and use a practice room. That’s what they’re for,” Ed told her.

  Tara felt like stamping her foot. But that wouldn’t get her anywhere. The boys were completely within their rights to be here.

  She was just trying to come up with a convincing reason why they should give way to her unreasonable demands when the door banged. Tara’s heart sank. Now someone else was coming! Didn’t anyone want to watch the movie?

  It was Danny, clutching his drumsticks. “I haven’t missed anything, have I?” he said to Tara. “Chloe said you’d been working on your song all day and Marmalade told me you’d all come over here. How’s it going?” He paused, seeing their bemused faces.

  “How’s what going?” asked Ben.

  “The song for the charity CD,” Danny said, starting to look a little confused himself. “Isn’t that why you’re all over here? I did tell you I’d help with the CD, Tara.”

  “Yes, you did,” replied Tara. “But I didn’t ask any of you to come over today.” She looked at Danny awkwardly. “I was just going to try something I’ve written. It might not be any good.”

  “Oh. Sorry.” Danny looked embarrassed.

  “You didn’t tell me about your song,” said Ed accusingly.

  “Or me,” added Ben. “Let’s see what you have.”

  “Well . . .” Tara pulled her notebook out of her pocket. “I’ve got a couple of verses, and an idea for a bass intro.”

  She pushed the chip bags onto the floor and smoothed the notebook onto the chair.

  “‘Lonely eyes,’” Danny read over her shoulder. “Nice. Are you going to use that as the hook, as well as the title?”

  “I think so,” Tara agreed. “But it sounds like a ballad, and I don’t want that. I want it mostly to be tough, like those kids have to be. It’s got to rock.”

  Ben plugged his guitar back in and played a haunting riff of high notes, then stopped.

  “I worked that out during our last songwriting class,” he told her. “But I still don’t have any words to go with it. If you want, you could use it as a bridge between a couple of the verses, to give a change of mood.”

  He played it again.

  Tara went over to her bass and plugged in. Ben’s riff would make a great bridge. And if she altered her intro a bit, she could repeat that after he’d played the bridge. Now they just needed a good strong melody for the verses.

  “Let’s just play,” she suggested. “I’ll do my intro, and then we’ll see where we end up.”

  Danny came up with a rousing beat right away, and it wasn’t long before the two guitarists and Tara on bass were developing it into some classic rock.

  “Do we need a chorus?” asked Ed at one point.

  “I don’t think we do,” replied Tara. “We can repeat the hook, ‘lonely eyes, pain in your eyes,’ at the beginning, at the end of each verse, and after Ben’s bridge. That’s as much of a chorus as we need, really.”

  Time flew by, the friends were so involved, and when the door opened again, no one noticed. Judge Jim had come to lock up, but he waited until they had played the song all the way through. When they’d finished, he applauded loudly.

  “Well,” he said, smiling with approval. “That’s one cool song. I love the contrast between the verses and the bridge.” He went over to the piano and picked out the tune with his right hand. “Have you thought about harmonizin’ your voices for the bridge?”

  “No,” said Tara.

  “Well, you could consider it. Your voice works well with Ed’s, Tara.” Judge Jim played a few more notes. “Somethin’ like that, maybe. It would make it even more poignant after that powerful tune you’re usin’ for the verses.” He looked at his watch and shook his head.

  “You have to finish for now, though. Sorry, but I reckon you should be in your dorms. You don’t want to get into trouble for bein’ late.”

  “Wow! Is that the time?” said Ben. “I had no idea.”

  “We’d better get going,” agreed Ed. “Thanks, Tara,” he added. “That was great.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Tara,” said Ben, unplugging and putting his guitar away.

  “See you in the morning,” said Danny as all the boys headed out of the door.

  Tara lifted her shoulder strap over her head and laid the Rickenbacker carefully on its rest. The euphoria of the evening was quickly seeping away, and she felt unaccountably sad.

  “Do you know anyone who might like to buy my old bass?” she asked Judge Jim, remembering her vow to sell it.

  Judge Jim looked surprised. “Don’t you want to hang on to it?” he asked. “It’s the one you first learned on, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but I can only play one bass at a time,” she told him.

  He looked at her curiously, but didn’t object. “I’ll see what I can do,” he said. “Wait a moment,” he added as she made for the door. “My car is parked near Paddock House. I’ll walk over with you.”

  Tara shrugged, but she waited while he turned out the lights and locked the door. The Rock Department had a building all to itself, tucked away to one side of Rockley Park House, so it was quite a walk to get to Tara’s dormitory. Judge Jim lived nearby in the next village.

  As they walked, Judge Jim chatted about the so
ng, praising the way the friends had been working on it together. They were almost at Paddock House when he paused, and looked at Tara with concern.

  “Reckon you were playin’ that song right from your heart,” he said. He didn’t seem to expect an answer, and Tara was feeling too down to reply. “Sometimes you get a lift makin’ music,” Judge Jim continued. “And sometimes when it’s over you’re left feelin’ empty inside. You were givin’ that song everythin’ you had,” he told her. “And it’s a sad song. The bridge really tugs at your heartstrings, and you sing and play it wonderfully.”

  Tara nodded in thanks, but couldn’t speak. Somehow, Judge Jim had recognized exactly how she felt.

  8. Judge Jim’s Advice

  “You’re a true artist, Tara,” Judge Jim said quietly. “Reckon you’ll be well on the way to Risin’ Stars status next year if you keep producin’ work of this standard. Your father must be really proud.”

  “He never hears me play!” she burst out in spite of herself. “He doesn’t care what I do.” Her voice broke and she bit her lip.

  Judge Jim patted her shoulder. “He’s a musician,” he said. “I know it’s hard, but he has to follow his star, just like you. Use that emotion,” he added. “Make it work for you like you have tonight.”

  Tara nodded, but she was too choked up to reply. Tara couldn’t afford to stay unhappy if she was going to make good on her promise to help Nangila and his friends, so the next afternoon she decided it was time to summon up her courage and ask Judge Jim to record a track for her CD.

  She went over to the Rock Department and knocked on Judge Jim’s office door. When he called her in she could see he was in the middle of his ever-present paperwork. He pushed it to one side with obvious relief and smiled at her. That was a good sign.

  “Hi there, Tara,” he said. “How are you doin’? I don’t have a buyer for your bass yet, but I’m seein’ someone tomorrow who might take it off your hands.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “But I didn’t come to see you about that. I wanted to ask your help. It’s about a charity CD I want to do.”

  “Ah.” Judge Jim nodded. “Is that why you want to sell your bass, to raise money for charity?”

  “Well, yes,” admitted Tara.

  “What sort of help do you want?” he asked. “And who’s it for? Have you been to ask Mrs. Sharkey?”

  “Yes, I have,” Tara said. She explained about the children, and their threatened school.

  “It’s a mighty fine idea if you can pull it together,” Judge Jim agreed. “Charity CDs, and concerts, are a great way for the music community to help out.”

  That was good news! Tara took a deep breath. “I was wondering,” she continued, “if you’d like, or be able, or have time to play for the CD . . .”

  Judge Jim waved a hand dismissively. “A concert first is better,” he advised her. “Then you can record it live. You’ll be able to sell the CD to everyone who performed, everyone who attended, and those who wish they’d gone! That’s a lot better than makin’ a CD on its own.”

  “But I can’t hold a concert!” protested Tara. “There’s already the midterm concert and the Rising Stars one at the end of the semester. There’s no time for another one!”

  Judge Jim raised his eyebrows. “I’m surprised at you, Tara,” he said. “You’re not thinkin’ straight. I’m sure Mrs. Sharkey would be happy for you to use the midterm concert to raise money for charity. Shake a couple of buckets at parents on the way out and you’ll be surprised how much you raise.”

  Tara sighed. “That’s what Mrs. Sharkey said,” she admitted.

  “There you are, then!” said Judge Jim with a smile.

  “But I thought a CD would raise more,” said Tara.

  “On their own, charity CDs can be a bit hit-or-miss,” Judge Jim said. “But if you ask Mr. Timms to record the midterm concert and then sell the CD like I said, as a souvenir, I’m sure you’ll do very well with it. I’ll buy one!”

  “Thanks!” said Tara, a smile creeping over her usually serious face. This conversation hadn’t exactly gone the way she’d wanted, but Judge Jim had shown her the way to have the best of both worlds! A money-raising concert and a CD. She should be able to raise tons for Nangila’s school at this rate!

  On her way back toward the main house, her phone beeped. It was a message from her mom.

  Your project sounds interesting, said the text. But charity events need lots of publicity to get enough people to attend. Then it should go off without a hitch.

  9. Another Good Idea

  Tara sat on a low wall and scuffed her sneakers in the gravel on the path while she replied.

  So will you and Dad come? she texted. It’s going to be the concert at midterm. The answer came right back. Her mom must be between meetings.

  I’ll ask Dad, it said. But you’d better count us out. The schedule is full just then. Good luck, though, sweetie. We’ll be thinking of you. xx

  “Yeah, right!” muttered Tara, kicking a bit of gravel into a nearby flower border. “That’s typical! Nothing I do means anything to them!”

  But Tara wasn’t going to let her mom’s reply get her down. She needed to stay focused. She would have to go and see Mr. Timms again to ask if he would record the concert for her, and she had to decide what type of publicity would be best to help the concert raise as much money as possible.

  “Hey, Tara!” Tara looked up. It was Danny. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  Tara nodded. “Just thinking about what Judge Jim said about fund-raising for Nangila’s school.”

  Danny joined her on the wall. “What did he say?”

  “He suggested that we raise money by taking a collection at the midterm concert and record the concert for a CD to sell afterward to raise even more money.”

  Danny rattled his drumsticks along the wall. “Great idea!” he said.

  “Yes, it is,” agreed Tara. “And if we include as many people as possible, they’ll bring their friends along and that would make it into even more of a fund-raiser.”

  “But we’ll all be included anyway, if it’s the midterm concert,” said Danny.

  “I know,” said Tara. “But there are the teachers as well. I’m going to ask them if they want to join in. It would be so cool if Judge Jim and your drum teacher and a couple of the others would perform together.”

  “Wow. Yeah!” agreed Danny enthusiastically. “Who else can we think of?” He leaned down and poked the gravel around with the end of one of his drumsticks, thinking hard. “There’s Mavis in the kitchen,” he said, half joking. “She’s always singing, isn’t she?”

  “Actually she’s pretty good,” said Tara. “I can’t reach half the notes she can.” She leaned over and gripped Danny’s arm. “Asking Mavis is a good idea,” she said. “What if I got lots of staff involved? Why shouldn’t everyone help if they want to? It would still be the students’ midterm concert, but if we had extra people as well it would make it a little different and bring in more people to buy the CD.” She let go of Danny’s arm and got up.

  “That might be an angle the local paper would like,” she added, thinking of the publicity her mom had said she would need. “It would be the whole of Rockley Park working together to help the school in Africa. And if lots of people were appearing, they’d invite all their friends and relatives to watch, and just like Judge Jim said we could collect donations that night!”

  “I saw Mr. Fallon going into a practice room with an Elvis tape last semester,” Danny told Tara. “I wonder if he’d be interested in joining in?”

  “Let’s ask him!” said Tara. “And anyone else you can think of who might be good. They’ll have to audition, of course. Perhaps Judge Jim would help with that. Meanwhile, I’ll e-mail the local paper about it.”

  “I’ll ask Mr. Fallon and the rest of the estate crew,” offered Danny.

  “I’ll go to the admin office,” Tara replied. “We can ask the kitchen staff at dinner. Don’t be late!”

 
By dinnertime, Tara had discovered that one of the office staff played the guitar and a couple of others were in a choir in the town. She left them egging one another on, with the promise that they’d audition to perform something and ask all their friends to attend to help raise money for Nangila’s school. It had helped that Tara had taken his photo there to be copied. All the staff remembered the picture of the little boy and were interested in his story. Tara had also been to see Mr. Timms, who’d agreed to record the concert for her charity CD. She arrived in the dining hall on a real high.

  “Dave Fallon said yes!” Danny greeted her, grinning.

  “What are you two up to?” asked Marmalade curiously.

  “Hopefully, helping the African orphans,” said Tara. “Everything’s coming together now. I’m going to use the midterm concert as a fund-raiser, with some extra acts from the office and catering staff so we attract their friends and relatives, too. Mr. Timms is going to record it, and I’m going to sell the CDs afterward. It’s going to be awesome!”

  “Fantastic!” said Lolly. “That gets over the problem of Mr. Player not approving, too. He won’t be able to complain that we’re being distracted from chasing Rising Stars points now.”

  “Actually, I was hoping you might volunteer to design a poster,” Tara said. “You and Pop are good at art and we’ll need to put posters up in the town and send some to our parents as well.”

  Pop held up her hands. “Sorry, Tara,” she said. “It’s great that we can help out by singing now, but I’m not going to jeopardize Rising Stars points by taking on anything extra.”

  Tara sighed. It looked as if it was all up to her.

  After dinner, Tara went straight for the computer in her dorm. She found the local newspaper’s address and sent an e-mail to the editor, telling him all about Nangila and his school, and how Rockley Park proposed to help. She made a lot out of the fact that the staff would be performing alongside the students, hoping that the paper would pick up on this bit of local interest. She added that they were hoping as many people as possible would come. Then she pressed send, and the e-mail disappeared.