Everyone has a song that captures who they are. No one but Leila Gonzalez can hear them.
Melodies and tunes fill her head everywhere she goes, and all she wants is to replicate them in her songwriting. There's just one problem: she sucks at songwrit...
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LEILA FUMBLED WITH HER fingers over the neck of her guitar, attempting a smooth B chord. Acoustic guitar strings were harder, so her short fingers struggled constantly. And the B chord specifically was harder on its own. Her ring finger pressed against the appropriate string, almost bending backwards to get it right. She never did, but her rigid determination fueled her to keep going.
Neil crossed his arms a mere few feet away from her, expecting the chord to be played up to his standards. Except his standards reached heights higher than the expanse of the universe. And they only went higher every week she went in.
Every time she strummed, he made her stop and try again until the right melody fell from her guitar. She thought about what it would be like for him to mess up with his own playing, but every time he went to demonstrate, pure perfection in the form of music poured out into the silent classroom.
She despised it.
"I'm trying to read you," Neil said, jarring her back from her thoughts. He paced around the classroom, hand under his chin. The fluorescent light Mr. Ferrer had in there made Neil's brown hair glimmer in molten gold. He hummed as his eyes narrowed at nothing in particular and his lips tightened in what appeared like a grimace. "What would be the best way to teach you...?" He trailed off, and Leila rested onto her squeaky seat as he went on to think out loud.
She blew out a raspberry and brushed out her grown-out bangs away from her face. Neil turned to her with an accusatory finger.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"Why here? Why guitar lessons? What is your goal with all of this?" He motioned around to the small classroom with his hands. Leila slouched over her guitar.
How was she supposed to tell him the real reason without giving out her secret? No one knew about her musical ability. They all knew about the lack of it in real life.
Leila wasn't sure where her abilities came from. She started hearing songs from everyone around her for as long as she could remember. When she asked her parents if anything interesting ever happened when she was young, they responded that she once knocked her head over the edge of a record player they owned at the time. She liked to be cheesy and conclude that it was her origin of her musical abilities, but, truthfully, she could never pinpoint the exact moment in time where it came about. And it's not like her family knew about it to tell her either.
When she learned that she could potentially learn how to play an instrument and write down the songs she heard around her, she jumped on that train faster than lightning.
"Um..." she stammered. "I write...I guess."
Neil took a step towards her. "You write?"
Leila nodded, not trusting her mouth to say anything more than that. She focused on the smudged floors so as not to let his brown eyes stab into her very soul. He might not have a song playing from his, but hers might make itself tangible.
He sat on the opposite seat and folded his legs. "And what do you write, firecracker?"
She let out a shaky breath and she looked down at her guitar. "Just... lyrics. Poems. I don't know. I want to write a full song, but I can't, clearly."
"Huh," was all he said. Leila looked up to find him studying her intently. His rugged rockstar style screamed how he belonged with his band, and she resisted the urge to ask about it. Distressed denim and a dark muscle-tee clothed him with battered chucks on his feet. A few silver rings rested on his fingers, and he snapped bringing her back to reality. "Maybe what you need is a little push," he said, standing up in a haste.
"What do you mean?" She asked, but it was like he couldn't comprehend words. He walked towards the classroom door, painted a gnarly brick red that chipped around the knob revealing an awful yellow underneath. Neil plucked a flyer of many tacked to the back of the door, and showed it to her.
Blood drained from her face, leaving a cold trace in its absence. "No."
"Oh, yes," he counteracted. His eyes glistened as he stared at the paint-dripped designed flyer. "The Hillbourne Music Fest won't know what hit 'em."
Leila stood up from her seat, placing her guitar inside her case. "You're nuts if you think I'm doing that."
Neil pulled out his phone from his back pocket. He scanned the QR code at the bottom edge with his camera and showed her the screen. The main menu of the music festival's website loaded, a terrible design of different loud colors with pictures from previous festivals as the background, and he laughed maniacally as he started typing in information.
"Neil, what the heck do you think you're doing?" Leila cried out. She reached for his phone, but he snapped into attention and ran in another direction. She followed him.
"Leila...don't tell me," he said as he leaned against the only window they had. "My uncle told me...uh Gonzalez! Leila Gonzalez, performer."
"What are you doing?" Her voice rose an octave.
"Signing you up, firecracker." He said it like it was the most obvious thing. "And me too, obviously. I'll be right beside you."
Leila tried in vain to snatch his phone away, but it was no use. He let her take it, but the screen showed her the confirmation of their future performance.
Congratulations! You will be performing at the Hillbourne Music Fest! We're looking forward for your performance!
"So what do you think?" Neil asked, grinning from ear to ear.
"I think you're lucky you're related to the owner," she deadpanned.
His grin widened if possible, and she wished nothing more than to wipe it off his face.
"Now, don't paint me as the bad guy," he started, putting some distance between them as he raised his hands in front of him. "This is an opportunity. You will feel pressured to better your guitar playing, and you'll get to write a song like you've always wanted."
Leila sighed. "I struggle with basic chords, Neil. How am I supposed to write a whole song?" She didn't mean to raise her voice, but in the moment she didn't care. He only blinked, completely unfazed, and stretched his arms wide as if presenting himself to a big audience.
"That's where I come in." He pointed at her chest. "You and me, we'll be working on this performance from now on. We will work on your playing and write an amazing song. And from what I've heard, we got a good writer on our team." He winked, and her stomach knotted as tension built up in her chest.
