Two months later

"This is a great thing you're doing", Mr. Swanson said with a smile on his face, that made wrinkles appear around his eyes and mouth, and gave us a hug, "Thank you."

"Don't worry about it. Music should be free for everyone. It's intended to bring joy and justice, not money.", Chiara said.

To quickly explain what happened in the past 2 months, one night I had a dream:
We were in Central Park and people would wish for songs. Happy songs mostly, to bring joy to their beloved. They would pick them out, intended for maybe their crush, to tell them how much they like them- or just to tell somebody what he/she means to them.

And after some practice, we would perform.

And we wouldn't charge money.

When I told Chiara, she was all in, but most others were skeptical.
It took a 13 year old boy, wanting to ask a girl on a date to convince them that it was a good thing.
Finally the others felt what I felt performing like that.

Because every now and then I'd glance at the small crowd, always assembling when we performed, getting bigger each time we did- noticing the joy we were bringing them- this core of pure happiness inside everyone, that only music can reach.

And more and more of my friends tagged along. We knew that the powers that were at AADA didn't like us doing stuff like this, but I for one couldn't help it.

That's what I came to America to do. Not jump through a cold classroom repeating plies for the 100th time.

I wanted to bring joy with my music, not hide it for more lucrative opportunities. That's just bullshit.

But what we did- to my despair- was posting it on Youtube. That was the price we expected from our customers. For them to agree that we post it.

We already had 200.000 followers, in only 1.5 months. It was crazy.

But now back to Mr. Swanson, who was just thanking us. He had requested a song for his wife- who was divorcing him for another man. So we figured Give You Hell by The All- American Rejects was appropriate.

"The look on her face. It was beautiful.", he laughed. I looked back to the place we performed. People gathered around the woman, sitting in the cafe with a bright red face and shame in her eyes.

The guy sitting across from her at the table stood up in shame and left her there- alone in the middle of a judging crowd.

"What did she see in him, that she didn't see in you. He basically left her for dead in there.", Chiara said and Mr. Swanson smiled at her softly: "Tell me about it. But now I can finally move on. I got my revenge. Thanks again." We all said goodbye and left, before anyone from the school board recognized us, and walked back to our dorms.
•
•
•
"Have you heard about Juan Derez?", Chiara said as she painted my nails. The afternoon was boring. It was gloomy weather outside, so no Central Park fun. Our afternoon classes were cancelled, so we were stuck inside our dorms with nothing to do.

Except to gossip.

We were sitting on her bed while she held my finger in position. She was amazing at nail art, painting flowers on them as we talked.

"What do you mean?", I asked, now curious.

Juan helped me get settled when I first arrived in New York. He was my first friend, a senior, and he did more for me than anyone else and never expected anything in return.

For example, he introduced me to Chiara, resulting in us ditching our past roommates and moving in together. Which was a good choice- the best really- cause my first roommate had been Celeste.

Unfortunately for Juan though, he had to drop out of school close to his graduation, which was set for August because his girlfriend got pregnant and he wanted to make some money to help his new family. Now he worked at the cafe in Central Park.

"He mentioned to Danny that he wants to propose to his girlfriend, but he doesn' know how yet. He asked if we could help him!", Chiara said in excitement.

Now I was excited too: "Well, why didn't he call me. I could've given him some advice and already started the planning."

Chiara frowned as she put my hand under the UV- lamp: "Maybe he thought you already had enough to do with your own relationship with Jackson."

I rolled my eyes and moved around a little, careful not to smudge my almost dry nail polish: "I'm never too busy for my friends, you know that."

"Yah, but maybe you should be, every once in a while. You need to take a little care of yourself. Not always think about others. I know that it's one of your talents, but it sucks for you. You are drowning in this relationship if you don't get out of it as fast as possible."

"You don't get it. I love him.", I mumbled and looked at the fabric of the lime green bedsheet I was sitting on.

"You love the idea of a boyfriend. You don't love Jackson. Do you think I don't see the bruises on your back and stomach, carefully planted so no one else sees them. I'm not stupid, Nathalie"; oh no, she used my first name, not some nickname. She must be really mad, "This guy is toxic for you. And I won't stop fighting against him."

The UV- lamp turned off, meaning my nails were done and I jumped up: "I need to go to the bathroom." I stated dryly and turned around.

I didn't see that she took my phone, but she must have had something to do with what follows. There's just no doubt...

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Bruno Mars