let's light up the sky ☆

Chapter 2

We live on the edge of Burbank, but I go to Glendale High School to be part of its champion dance and color guard teams. I was lucky enough for our house to be within range so I could go. I started at Glendale High with only one of my friends while the others went to closer schools. It pained my parents' Crescenta Valley High alumni hearts to send me to a rival school.

We were less than five minutes away from my school when Dad got a call over the car speakers from Uncle Nate. "Sorry, Nousha," Dad apologized as he answered it. We have a regular playlist we listen to whenever he takes me to school. But with a few minutes left, there was a chance I wouldn't be able to finish the current song before I got out of the car. "Talk to me, bro."

"Hey, is this a bad time?" he started.

"I'm taking Anoush to school and then I'll head over that way. What's up?"

"Hiiiiii," I jumped in before he could say anything.

"Hey, Anoush! Isn't today your last day?"

"Yep, just going to see my friend before she goes on a trip this summer."

"Awesome, kiddo. Have a good one! Giannis, I have a question about the new single..." I tuned out the boring, technical parts of their conversation. I would rather enjoy the end product when it's finished.

My dad's reputation from his younger days was nothing like the life he leads now. He was a 20-year-old enjoying the spotlight for the first time, not the wholesome and loving introvert who raised me. He used to burn through joints like a hippie teen at Woodstock to psych in for his stage performances. Then again, that was how he coped with his anxiety before his first SSRI prescription. He's almost completely cut out the casual smoking, but he would be lying if he said he never takes an occasional hit or two.

I treat Chris Rivera, Anthony Campbell, and Nathan Reid like my uncles. Chris and Nathan are the two oldest, with Uncle Nathan being about a month older than Uncle Chris. Uncle Anthony has a few months on Dad, making him the "baby" of their band. It's been 30 years and they've never let Dad live down the teasing.

My dad is an only child and my mom is the oldest of three girls. Having three honorary uncles strikes the perfect family balance. They watched me and Armen grow up, even helping to raise him when Mom was having a hard time being pregnant with me. Dad dreamed of being in a band since he could hold a guitar, and he was lucky enough to find three guys willing to work out that dream with him. The fact that they're close enough to be like family was an extra piece to our bigger puzzle.

Dad always loved music, so much so that he never imagined himself doing anything else. He first met Uncle Anthony in the second grade when their moms sent them to the same music camp for kids. Dad was still coping with their move to the US and he was a lonely kid until he met Anthony. They bonded over their love for their stringed instruments, with Dad on guitar and Uncle Anthony on bass. They made a pinky promise one day in the camp pick-up line that they would be in a band together someday.

Uncle Chris, Uncle Anthony's maternal first cousin, moved to Glendale in the fifth grade. Dad always admired the older guy who had a nice voice and generally outgoing stage presence. He was a natural with vocal impressions, but he was always in trouble for being the class clown. He moved up from San Diego because he was falling into the wrong crowd. His parents thought that being closer to their families in the LA area would mean more help in looking out for their troubled son. The principal of his last school complained that he was looking for attention.

The 1980s was the dark ages for kids like Uncle Chris who could have benefitted from an ADHD diagnosis. The first song he ever wrote on his own was one about his frustrations with school and the way it treated him. He didn't believe he was a bad kid. He had a lot on his mind and no one to tell it to. That was, of course, until he was around Anthony more often and became friends with Dad. Meeting those two gave him a place to write down his thoughts, and they put a rhythm and a gritty melody behind it.