𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖲𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗌 || 𝖣𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖬𝗈𝗆𝗌

Hollywood, Round Two

"I've mentioned many times how hectic the year of two thousand and nine was, but it seems like it's never enough. In that same year, just to add the cherry on top of the messy sundae, I started taking both voice and piano lessons. Now, I've quit both since then, but I really liked taking them when I was younger. It had been a few months since the nationals incident, and I wasn't at the studio as often as I used to, so my mom suggested the voice lessons. I later asked for the piano ones after a girl at school told me about them.

When I first started taking them, they were supposed to be something to take my mind off of everything. It was supposed to be something I could have fun with for a few hours–and they were, but some afternoons were extremely busy. Both of my older siblings still danced back then, and my sister was learning a solo for the new season, "Roxie", so she spent more time at the studio than usual, and she had even managed to get a standing private every week. My brother, on the other hand, never really liked doing solos. He was never really successful with them, and he preferred doing group dances and the occasional trio.

But it was a Friday. Like I like being exact, it was Friday, November thirteen of two thousand and nine at two-fifty-seven in the afternoon. I was currently stuck in my second-grade math class, staring at the clock, which was located narrowly over the number-filled whiteboards. With my chin on the palm of my right hand, my fingers drummed against my right cheek as I watched the needle get closer to the twelve on top of the clock. Our math teacher would never let us out early, especially since she was very frustrated with us for not being able to figure out how to divide.

I felt a tap on my right shoulder, and I turned my head to look over it, instantly noticing Elliot. "Do you have the answer for number five?"

Not saying a word, I stared at him as I grabbed my notebook with my now free right hand and handed it to him. He whispered a thank you as I turned back to watch the clock again.

Somehow, I was good at division. Apparently, it's the opposite of multiplication, and, weirdly, I know how to divide since I don't know how to multiply. Math was just a weird game with very strict rules.

And it was still two-fifty-eight.

I was eager for the bell to ring, signaling the end of the school day. I had way too much on my plate, and I was also hoping to get back in time to go to the local high school's production of "Rent" with a few of my friends. Now, Rent is apparently a very "controversial" musical created by the late Jonathan Larson, and it is also the first year that high schools can put on their own productions of the musical, but, in one of my friend's words: "If we're going to be on Broadway one day, we have to know how it works". Besides, our own school doesn't do anything theatre-related.

Looking back at one of the whiteboards, I scanned over the various exercises, wondering why it was so hard for everyone to understand, but then again, not everyone is good at the same things. Some may understand how to multiply, while others understand how to divide, except that in this case, no one does. It seems like I'm the only one who knows how to multiply.

My eyes went right back up to the clock.

Two-fifty-nine.

That was good enough. Grabbing my pencil, I reached inside my backpack, pulled out my sky blue pencil case, and put the pencil away before throwing the case back into the backpack. I zipped it closed, soon noticing that everyone was mimicking my actions.