Under Appreciated (incomplete)

May we meet again

Ana's perspective

There's no way that just happened, again. We need to stop meeting in public, especially considering her being famous. However, I certainly don't mind it. Never in a million years would I have thought that she would be reading my book. The guitarist, the mesmerising girl from the concert. Having her number in my phone was enough to make me transcend to another planet, never mind having her in my life. Of course, when these situations arise, Tasha is the ears of my circumstances.

"Just marry her already," Tasha said when I told her what happened. She came over and sat on my couch watching the Simpsons. I rolled my eyes to her comment. It would never happen. I hardly know the girl. Whilst I made dinner in the kitchen, I could hear Tasha's light giggles at the show she was watching. It always made me so happy seeing her happy. I guess that's what makes our friendship work. We are happy for each other success. I remember back in 10th grade, when Tasha received a medal for her sporting achievements, I was so proud of her. I felt like her mum. Her parents weren't really around much of the time, so we had many sleepovers at my house, and I cared for her like a big sister. I still care for her like a big sister, and always will.

"Guess what I have," Tasha said, lowering the volume on the TV so I could hear her voice. There was a smirk at the corner of her lips that made me nervous. Oh god, I thought. What could she possibly have done?
"An addiction to the Simpsons," I replied jokingly, however, not so jokingly. It was true that she was thoroughly addicted to that show.
"Yes , but no," Tasha smiled, "I have got us both tickets to watch that band again."
"We don't even know the name of that band," I answered.
"So what? We liked them last time," Tasha responded innocently, "and we have to celebrate your book."
I couldn't argue with that. Buried deep inside apart of me wanted to see her again. And my word, I could not wait.

Harper's perspective

I sat at my windowsill, something which I find myself doing a lot these days, staring at the clouds. Oslo was beside me, sleeping peacefully, wrapped in a ball of his own fur. He looked so comfy, so cute. Guitar in my hand, I practiced a few songs for the gig in a couple of days. I wouldn't say that I'm an anxious person, but I am certainly a perfectionist. Once my father took away my favorite guitar because I had spent 13 hours playing a Taylor swift song on it. I loved that guitar, and never saw it again. The day after my first ever gig, my mum should've been proud for me. Instead, her and my dad told me I wasn't good enough, that I should 'do better' and 'focus on school instead of music'. 10 year old me wanted to hurt then so badly, just like they hurt me with their words.

I also remember a time at Christmas, when I wanted to play my own song that I had made. I was incredibly proud of it. My family gathered round and listened, and there was a hideous look of disapproval from my parents. However, my uncle and auntie told me how proud they were of me. I guess the fact that my parents were so harsh on me as a kid, made what happened to them hurt less. After all, why should I care for people who made me cry for my talent? They never cared for me. They told me they loved me, but never said that they loved my music.

I suppose that's why Ana's words touch me as they do. She is like the voice I never had as a kid, constantly telling me how good I am at what I do. She calls herself an 'admirer' of my work instead of a fan, and that touches me in a way that my parents never did.

At the age of 15, I was pulled out of my science lesson, and taken to a small room near the office. The faces around me told me there was bad news. Then I remember being given a phone and talking to the person on the other end. It was my auntie.
"I'm so, so sorry Harper," she cried, trying to hold back her tears for me.
"Auntie May, are you okay," I questioned, completely oblivious to what she was about to tell me next.
"Oh, sweetheart. Your parents have been in a car accident," she told me, her voice sounding so empty and cold.
"Are they okay?," I asked foolishly.
"I'm so sorry H, but they are both dead."
Those words hit me like a brick. The sudden realisation that I wouldn't be going home to them ever again took over me. No more Friday night pizza making with my father. No more days out shopping with my mother.
"You'll stay with me and your Uncle," my auntie said to me as I got in her car.

I did not speak a word that day. I could not feel a thing. My hands were blue. My throat was dry. Every fibre of my body wanted to rip itself apart and cry itself to death. But somewhere deep inside me, I was kind of grateful that they had died the way they did.

I answered the door to Milo, Ross and Phoebe, as they entered my house and made themselves at home. It was another band practice day. Oslo immediacy scurried away to his bed, as he could not cope with the music. "Do you want me to make you a cup of tea?" I asked Ross. He had an addicted to caffeine (typical for a British male). "You know me too well," Ross answered.
"So, not long until our gig," Milo said excitedly, "I can't lie we need the money."
"What we need is a record deal," Phoebe snapped bitterly.
"Relax, we're doing well," Milo said trying to reassure us all. The truth is that we're losing more fans than we are gaining, and the money to afford all the equipment is running short.
"Why don't we write a new album," I spoke up.
"The girl has a point," Ross agreed giving me a glance before taking out a cigarette. I've told him to stop smoking in my house a million times, but he won't listen.
"Alright then, Harper and I will write the songs," Milo answered.
"You should write them, I'm no good with lyrics."
"Alright then."

Before we started practicing I had to open all the windows in my house to stop the smell of Ross's smoke from spreading. I find cigarettes vulgar- not that he cares.

We continued practicing for the couple of days before our gig, and I felt ready to perform. Ana messaged me to say that she would be there, so I felt confident that I would feel seen upon that stage. And dare to say it, I felt excited to see her.