~16~

Later that evening, just as I'm heading out of my dorm room to go grab some dinner, I notice my phone screen light up from beneath my fingers. I grasp the keycard carefully between my teeth and turn the device over to read an incoming message.

M-
My mom just picked me up from the airport and I am now being bombarded with questions lol.
Today 7:03 PM

B-
I'm glad you had safe travels ☺️
Delivered 7:03 PM

Pressing the button to send my text, I realize that I'm still standing in the middle of the dorm hallway, smiling like an idiot with a card sticking out of my mouth.

I slip the piece of plastic into my back pocket and continue towards the elevator.

M-
I don't think we've stopped talking about you since we got in the car.
Today 7:05 PM

B-
Oh no what lies have you been telling her?
Delivered 7:06 PM

M-
No lies. But she did just seriously ask me if I climbed any palm trees while in Cali
😂
Today 7:07 PM

B-
She knows you too well. I wouldn't have been surprised if you had haha.
Delivered 7:07 PM

M-
Speaking of surprises... imagine how surprised I was to stumble upon a white envelope full of cash in my carry-on? Have any idea where that came from?
Today 7:09 PM

B-
Nope. No idea.
Delivered 7:09 PM

M-
Sure you don't. Because how exactly would a card with your debit number get in there as well?
Today 7:10 PM

He's onto me.

I lift my gaze and suddenly find that I am a little too close for comfort to the front door of my building. I should probably not be texting while walking, because said crime will most definitely result in my either killing myself, or someone else. Or both.

I locate a campus bench outside to sit temporarily while explaining myself to Max. WaterColor doesn't close for another forty-five minutes or so, there's no need to rush for my meal.

B-
Funny, I was just looking for my debit card...
Delivered 7:14 PM

M-
Right. Tell me exactly what you did and why you did it. Now. If you really sent all of your money across the US then you're an actual idiot.
Today 7:15 PM

B-
This is my chance to restart and separate myself from all the money everyone associates me with.
Delivered 7:16 PM
Don't worry, I kept back over $500, that's more than enough for two months on a prepaid campus.
Delivered 7:17 PM

M-
I still don't like this, B. What if there's an emergency or something?
Today 7:19 PM

B-
It's fine! If I REALLY do need the money it's still there. I just won't have it, physically?
Delivered 7:20 PM

M-
...
Today 7:20 PM

B-
Max please. This is for me mentally more than anything else. Don't tell anyone? I trust you with my money.
Delivered 7:21 PM

M-
Yeah yeah. Why didn't you mention this before though?
Today 7:22 PM

B-
I knew you wouldn't think it was a good idea. I was correct.
Delivered 7:23 PM

M-
If you ever even MIGHT need the money, ask me, okay? I'll mail it to you or something.
Today 7:25 PM

B-
I promise!
Delivered 7:26 PM

M-
Fine. I won't say anything to anyone and I'll put the money in a safe place.
Today 7:27 PM
Have you eaten anything since I left?
Today 7:28 PM

B-
No but I'm out to get dinner right now.
Delivered 7:30 PM

M-
Good. I'll talk to you later ❤️
Today 7:32 PM

Every fiber in my person wants to keep messaging him, to keep talking, but my stomach grumbles despite that fact. I exhale, relieved that Max is back safe and that his first instinct was to text me when he landed. My biggest fear is that something will unexpectedly change between us, besides just the distance. But that's silly, really. He's still my best friend, regardless of wherever he calls home. I need to start telling myself that more often.

And now, it's time for food.

•••

"So I want you, my musical geniuses, to take this simple backing track and make it your own!" Mrs. Esme ecstatically instructs to my composition class.

Mid-day Monday yawns and groans begin sprouting like untamable thistle weeds. I ignore this, leaning back in my chair and letting the wheels inside my brain tune into the project being explained.

"Simple enough, right?" Our teacher asks the rhetorical question, "I want you all to really go off on this assignment. Remix the song, break it down acoustically, digitize it—the possibilities are quite endless." She pauses briefly, smiling through her dark maroon lipstick, "The catch? We'll be partnering up today. I want both you and your classmate to equally put a piece of yourselves into something that's already whole on its own. This is due by end of day, and will be performed tomorrow during first hour, so work efficiently."

I uncomfortably bring my fingertips to rub my lips, purely out of nervous habit. I don't mind working with a partner, but whomever this partner is could potentially make or break my grade.

Mrs. Esme adjusts her high ponytail and scans across each of her students' faces, mentally grouping each one of us. "Sarah Isen will be with Ethan Collins, Emilia Cooper with Bradley Summersfield—"

My pulse climbs as she continues spitting out names. There aren't many of us left and my options aren't looking especially grand anymore. Oliver hasn't so much as made eye contact with me since our little incident, and I would like to keep it that way. And Amber— well, I'm not entirely sure why I don't want to be paired with her. I have yet to form my own idea of the girl as a person, but Rylie's reaction on the first day of school still sticks to the back of my conscience. Besides that, Amber is extremely intimidating and confident within herself. I'm not sure she could work well with someone like me.

At least Ethan was already chosen, he wears enough cologne to gag someone.

I may just be too picky, and I'm definitely overthinking again.

"Rebecca Garsner, you're with Sophia Brean. And Brooklynn Hope,"

Mrs. Esme squints towards the remainder of my classmates. Don't say Oliver, just please, don't say Oliver.

"You're with Cassandra Hemings, dear. Finally, Amber Lilly and Oliver McCally." She offers us a tight smile, seemingly pleased with her decisions.

A silent breath that I didn't know I was holding captive suddenly escapes me. I'm sure those two deserve each other.

I shake my head, scolding myself for such a negative and derivative thought.

I now turn in my seat to find the iconic Amber and Cassandra duo. Amber pouts softly, her pairing indicating that she will have to separate from her friend. Cassandra doesn't seem to mind, as her face cradles the same expressionless gaze, no different from any other time I had seen her.

Okay, I can work with this. Cassandra is quiet, in fact, I've never actually heard her speak outside of class presentations, but she seems easygoing and sweet. Perhaps, making music and spending time with her might give me a little more insight on her popular friend.

"Alright! Get going," Mrs. Esme calls.

The classroom erupts into a series of shuffling and switching seats. I approach Cassandra just as Amber bobbles off to find Oliver.

"Hi, Cassandra right?"

The girl nods, offering me a polite smile while her large brown eyes study me closely.

"I'm Brooklynn, but you probably already know that. I mean, not that you should, it's just that Mrs. Esme called my name out like a few seconds ago and—"

"Nice to meet you." She says gently, "Do you have any ideas for the assignment?"

I think for a moment. I always create such clumsy first impressions of myself, I really need to learn to process before I speak sometimes.

"Well." I begin, more cautiously this time, "Before I knew it was a partnered assignment, I was going to take the track and translate it into a piano piece, but now I'm not sure."

"No, that's good." Cassandra nods.

I fail to conceal a slight frown. The point of this assignment is to challenge each other musically and fight for a comprise between both of our individual styles. I'm not sure we can accomplish that feat if she just readily goes along with everything I say. I need to be pushed in order to push back, so that the song will balance itself out.

"Is everything okay?" She asks as we move towards an electric keyboard to the side of the room.

"Yeah, of course." I falsely assure her, sliding onto a bench and placing the generic song's sheet music in front of me.

It only takes me around twenty minutes or so to mess around on the keyboard until I'm satisfied with the arrangement. Sure, I might add a few more progressions to spice it up a bit, but the core of the song is down— and we still have over half of the period left.

"How's it going over here you guys?" Says a energetic voice from behind me. I pull the headphones down to my neck and look up from black and white keys to see Amber, curiously towering over us.

"We're good, Am." Cassandra blinks at her somewhat nosy friend.

"Okay, okay, Cassie. Just checking." Amber tuts, still appearing to have no intention of leaving anytime soon.

Cassandra sighs, "No one has even thought about touching the saxophone yet."

Amber breaks out into a flawless grin, "Yes! Perfect! Thanks, Cass." She exclaims before happily skipping back to her chair.

Cassandra raises her eyebrows in what seems to be annoyance, but she cracks a slight smile nonetheless.

"What was that about?" I question, not entirely certain of the situation I had silently observed.

"They're blocked."

My face twists in confusion. I'm really supposed to believe that the great Amber Lilly is having trouble with a simple beginning-of-semester assignment?

"Amber has no ideas, and I don't think Oliver is exactly pitching his own."

My eyes trail over to the obnoxious boy, who is currently mindlessly tapping away at his phone screen. According to reputation, I highly doubt that he's using the device for the project.

Typical Bulldozer.

"I suggested that they take a Jazz approach, since I don't see that already being done. I hope you don't mind me helping her," Cassandra says.

"Of course not. Honestly, I think we could use some help too." I finally build up the courage to admit aloud.

"What do you mean? Our song is good." Cassandra tucks a chunk of her short bob hairstyle behind her ear.

There's that good again. But is a simply good piece enough to get an A on the assignment?
Unfortunately, I'm not convinced.

"Don't you think it's, I don't know, missing something though?" I ask her.

"Well sure, but we're not done yet." Cassandra gives into a small smile once again, "I was just letting you set the foundation, since you're so good technically. Now I would suggest that we add a bit more skill into the medley, which I'm sure you can do easily, but we should slow the bass tempo down a little, to keep things unpredictable and different.

I find myself grinning now too, "Yeah, I like that."

"And this might be a terrible idea, but maybe I could write some lyrics too?"

My eyes widen in the shock that I myself hadn't had the idea sooner. Adding lyrics to a personal rearrangement of a backing track is so utterly simple, that it's somehow been completely overlooked. From what I can see, no one else has thought of it— except Cassandra, whom I'm convinced is an actual musical genius right about now. It's always the quiet ones, isn't it?

I excitedly squeeze her shoulder, "That's it! How did do that? You just saved two different projects. Are you like a superhero or something?" I joke in my amazement.

A bit of humble embarrassment takes over her freckled cheeks, and her cotton candy colored lips press into a thin line. "How'd you figure it out?"

We both breathe out hushed giggles before getting back to work.

"Something like this?" She says before humming a few measures, as we now try to sort out the harmonies.

"Amazing." I truthfully critic, and Cassandra jots something down in her notebook accordingly.

Frankly, this girl has blown my mind in the last forty-five minutes since I officially met her. She's pretty, kind, her tone is soft and unique, and she's an insanely talented lyricist. If she were more outgoing towards people, she might even be more popular than Amber. I still have a hard time imaging the two as friends, though maybe their differences are one way that they compliment each other's personalities. Max and I are immensely different, and yet that seems to only fuel our close friendship.

Since we're now almost completely finished with our assignment, I could try to question Cassandra about Amber, but I don't know what I would even say to bring up that conversation. So I decide to dismiss my curiosity for today, and instead immerse myself into my music and our project. At the rate we're going now, we'll breezily cross the finish line with a well-deserved grade.

•••

I had woken up this morning thinking that it would be another normal Wednesday, but as soon as I left my bed, I was deafeningly corrected.

Rylie was up brighter and earlier than usual, four o'clock to be exact, busy contorting her body into unimaginable shapes. She claimed that she was stretching, but I'm sure that whatever she was actually doing couldn't be healthy. I shouldn't have expected anything else though, because Elite tryouts apparently start today. She hasn't shut up about them since we got to this school.

I had also thought that things would calm after classes started, but I was wrong again. And speaking of a lack of shutting up, I'm pretty sure I haven't gone a single minute without hearing something about how hot Zachary Jacobs really is in person.

That's right, the famous backup dancer had officially arrived back from tour, and now he's at the one and only MACC. I'm sure he's talented and all, but I really couldn't care less. And the excited whispering and gawking teenage girls are starting to get pretty annoying by this point— it's only barely ten now.

However, my own worries for the week are behind me, because Cassandra and I had rocked our composition performance yesterday, earning us a total of ninety-eight for the assignment. I honestly couldn't have been paired with a better partner, and I hope that we'll get to work together again in the future.

Exiting the music hall and heading towards math class, I see that I have another text from Max and can't help but smile, though he should really be in school right now.

Just as I'm about to click on the message, I notice a missed one from Rylie, and select her thread first.

Rylie-
I swear if I hear one more girl in ballet comment on this hot shot's muscle tone I will literally find a way to get expelled.
Today 9:54 AM

I chuckle at the irony of our mutual feelings, and begin to type out a response wishing her good luck in tryouts later.

Abruptly, I'm forcefully shoved into another body, the momentum leaving me sprawled out on the floor with an indescribable sense of grace. Once again, go Brooky.

I rub my now increasingly sore hip, mentally kicking myself for neglecting to follow my new rule of no texting while walking.

"I'm so sorry! Let me help you up." Panics a low voice.

A hand reaches into my sight line, bringing me up to meet a concerned face, "Are you okay?"

The words belong to a guy much taller and broader than me, with a head full of ash blonde hair strikingly pale blue, narrow eyes.

"Uh— yeah. I'm alright." I try to shake off the attractiveness of my attacker, but fail miserably. I'm a girl to go more for a charming personality rather than physical features, but holy crap, this dude is good looking.

He crouches to gather my scattered pre-cal papers, and he does so swiftly, getting everything together quickly and handing it back to me.

Something is all too familiar about this situation, except this time around, I'm not the one picking up my dropped items. And my phone isn't broken.

I'll take this beautiful person over Bulldozer any day.

"So you're completely sure you're okay?" He asks a second time.

"I think I'm all in one piece so, yes. I swear either the hallways have gotten smaller or they've accepted like a thousand more high schoolers." I lightheartedly say, trying to make him feel less guilty for an accident that was mostly my fault in the first place.

His lip twitches upwards, crinkling the corners of his eyes, "Yeah, at least I hope I won't be tackling people on the daily."

"It's all because of this hot shot, Zachary Jake, or whatever. The whole thing is causing complete chaos around here." I steal Rylie's rude nickname for the somewhat celebrity.

The stranger in front of me amusedly cocks his head, then laughs, "Zachary Jacobs?"

"That's the one," I say.

"I mean, personally I don't get all the hype. Let's just hope he's good."

I nod, adjusting my loose T-shirt back onto my left shoulder. "Thanks again for helping me—"

"Hey Zachary!" Shouts someone from down the hallway.

"In a minute, man," he casually replies.

Wait.

"I'll catch you later—?"

"Brooklynn." I inform him awkwardly, my face heating up with embarrassment. Please tell me that this isn't really him.

"I'll catch you later then, Brooklynn." Zachary says, delicately hitting my arm before brushing past me.

Did I seriously just trash Zachary Jacobs in front of Zachary Jacobs? Out of the hundreds and hundreds of students here, I had to crash into him?

Maybe it was a different Zachary?

Definitely not.

•••

Happy Easter everyone! Here's an early update for my favorite holiday, regardless of whether or not you celebrate it.

I will hopefully have another chapter out on Friday, but don't hold you're breath, because a lot is going on in my personal life this next week.

Personally, this chapter doesn't feel like my best work, and not a lot of action happened. What do you all think about the fact that Brooklynn sent her money away with Max? First impressions of Amber's friend Cassandra? What about Zachary?

I hope everyone has a lovely rest of your Sunday, or Monday—depending on where you live.
~Elli