Big Time Song Bird | James Diamond

playing hooky and silly games

It's been four days since Crowe, the Knights, and the band arrived at the Palm Woods.

Her night consisted of tossing and turning, uncomfortable on the scratchy bed sheets, which made Crowe furiously throw the blanket off her. Her anger had compelled her enough to find the box with her softer and colorful bed sheets and replace them with the sad beige colored ones. Multiple boxes were opened to check the contents inside and seeing none of them had what she wanted, she groaned to herself.

And Crowe hasn't unpacked all, or any, of the boxes she brought over from Minnesota, and thankfully all of it arrived the second day they were here. Only opening one or two boxes for a change of clothes. Hesitating to make herself settled in the empty apartment, a scratching in the back of her mind, a bug telling her how Gustavo could easily tell them to leave and they couldn't do anything about it.

Kelly had let the teens take the day off since they worked non stop the past three days to convince the CEO, Griffin, that the boy band was making a comeback. As Gustavo needed a break to recuperate and prepare for the next three months to perfect his band. And Crowe needed to brace herself for the next three months of working with four rowdy boys who pulls her into their messes and an easily angered producer who could explode at the drop of a hat.

So she was more than happy to take a day off and relax, but the multiple large boxes looming over her figure said otherwise.

She only had to move once before but that was when she was 5, lacking the brain cells to properly pack so her grandparents did it for her. This time, however, deciding to group things together and squish them in a single box was her way of doing things since everything happened so quickly.

The manual clock on her bed side table showed that it was 6 in the morning. It was too late for her to go back to bed and wake up early, so she went ahead and stayed up. Giving her cheeks a slap to fully wake up and give her adrenaline for the day.

Normally Crowe was a night owl and stayed awake till the sun rises the mornings she was caught up in writing, but since they've been here she's had to sleep and wake up earlier. Attempting to train herself to form a normal routine for the past three nights, making her eye bags become a bit more prominent. Crowe sighed at the state of her appearance, the tank top sticking to her chest and back from the night of sweating. The cold was a comfort she always knew but now every day and night was sweltering heat, another reminder that this was real. That she moved all the way to LA to become a songwriter for a band.

Thankfully Mrs. Knight had been so accommodating in wanting to help ease her nerves of moving since she didn't have her parents there, even if Crowe wasn't exactly nervous for that reason. Each of the boy's parents have known Mrs. Knight for as long as the boys have been friends and trusted her enough in knowing their kids would be taken care of. So she took the role of a stand-in mother and guardian for the band and Crowe.

But before that could happen she had to get permission from her father. And fortunately, or unfortunately, it was an easy task.

The next box contained her bathroom supplies, it was a relatively decent size but not having the power to pick it up, she dragged it across the carpeted floor onto the cold hardwood. Kneeling down to empty and sort through it, putting her spare green toothbrush and cup for it on the sink. Next were two unopened boxes of black hair coloring, a reminder that she needed a small touch up pretty soon since her roots began to show blonde again.

When she was 10, Crowe wanted a change of look so she bought the simplest thing she could think of, boxed hair dye. Taking all day and night one Saturday to dye it by herself.

Washing the dye out and making sure she read the directions thoroughly, waiting until the water ran clean before doing the rest of her shower routine. Drying her hair with a towel then blow dryer, awaiting the results of her hard work.