Violetta (Violet) Jackson has big dreams. None of which happen to include sitting in detention for a week straight for a lab disaster that wasn't even her fault. That's all thanks to Will Hawthorne, his friends (one of whom she unfortunately used to...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Time itself slowed and sped up erratically as I made my way to center stage.
I was aware of every step, every breath; every movement of the others out of the corner of my eye. Ryder headed to the back of the stage, toward his drum kit. I heard the faint sound of rustling as Olivia grabbed her guitar and slung it across her shoulder. Danny is the quietest of all, and I barely even realized that he was already at his keyboard, pressing a few buttons, prepping it in a matter of seconds. I felt like I was wading through mud as I made my way to the piano at the corner of the stage, my vision like a zoomed-in camera — sometimes, I caught glimpses of the faces in the crowd; a head of hair and a pair of eyes, but they were all blurred and indistinct, my heart beating faster and faster as I picked up my bass and turned to face the throng of people; waiting, watching.
Everything seemed too fast now — the performances before us, the three-hour drive to Portland, the past week, the past few months. They had whizzed by me faster than the city on a moving train, nothing but a montage of color and sound. The only moment I could see clearly was the one that night in my bedroom after Will left my house; my lyric notebook in my hand, my pen in the other. I see the lyrics that I had scribbled down that night, the way they sprawled across the page as the room slowly began to fill with the early light of dawn.
The only thing I let myself feel was what I felt that night; the ebb and flow of the piano chords washing over me again and again, rising and swelling in my chest. The warmth of an otherwise chilly night. The brightness of a smile on the otherwise dark balcony.
I let myself focus on it as the small black piano sat, beckoning me, calling out to me to play the melody in my head.
Somehow, despite my bones buzzing with nerves and blood roaring in my ears, all was quiet as I sat down. The stark white keys stared back at me as if holding their breath, wanting to see what I would do. The world stilled, and for a moment, there was no crowd at all. For a moment, there was only me, a piano, and another, sitting across from me, looking at me, seeing me as if for the first time. I held onto that feeling, that brief breath in the life that rushed past us.
I sucked in a breath. In. Out.
The opening chords set me on fire.
My fingers found the right notes, stiff but sturdy on the keys. The sound carried through the open air, breaking through the silence, drifting and floating to the sky.
My world opened up, just enough for me to see the microphone in front of me, and I leaned in toward it, taking in another breath before I let the words that had been bubbling up inside me take flight.
The edges of my vision stretched out further as Olivia joined in just at the right cue, the notes of her electric guitar layering with the piano notes. I heard some cheers and whoops, but they were still somewhat fuzzy and distant. I focused on Olivia as I sang, my voice leading the song. My legs locked up with anticipation as I neared the end of the piano piece, readying myself to jump up and break out of my little world; my safe bubble.
