Finding the Pure Note

I Don't Deserve Them

Breakfast is a, let's just say, unusual affair. Unusual in its delightful glee. Breakfast back home was always a time for peace and quiet. I think I prefer Chelsea and Jaz's alternative. Jaz brought out her stereo and blasted a weird mix of pop, hip hop and soul music. I've gotta say, eating a bacon sandwich while Otis Redding poured his heart out about loving you too long to stop now was a rather... eye-opening experience. Chelsea and Jaz harmonised with Otis perfectly, eyes closed, lost in the music, the kind of passion I live for. I can't help but tap my feet to the rhythm, drumming my fingers on the table. Fletcher bobs his head, munching his bacon with a bashful grin spoiling his cheeks.

"I don't want to stop now, ohh, ohh, ohh," they cry.

"And don't make me stop now," Chelsea sings, her voice a perfect counterpart to the almost gravelly voice of Redding.

"Oh, baby... I'm down on my knees!" Jaz screams, throwing her arms out dramatically. It's all over-the-top and daft, but I can't judge—just look at Fletcher and I the other night after dinner. Music does that to you. Throws away inhibitions, lets you shake your soul out and wear it on your sleeve. Music is a power I want to wield for exactly this reason. If people can move like this, wear their souls on their sleeve, all to the notes and lyrics I can craft, I'll know I've done right.

We help to wash up, despite Jaz's protests, and when we're done, we head up to Chelsea's room to discuss our plans for the day. Lots of music, good vibes and soul-searching. No homework on the agenda...

"Mum's going to be pretty pissed I am not using this day to its full potential," I sigh, a faint smile tugging at my lips.

"Not to its full potential!" Chelsea exclaims. "As long as each day is full of purpose, full of life, you've reached your full potential and beyond, honey."

"Can you repeat that to my mum, please?" I implore, begging hands out.

Fletcher snickers and Chelsea rolls her eyes.

"You should tell her," she comments softly. "You need to let her know how you feel about this. Your music, I mean. It's your future to decide, not hers."

"I wish it were that easy," I huff, pushing my fingers into my pockets. "Mum's not exactly the most understanding of people when it comes to this stuff."

"Then make her understand," Chelsea counters, waving her arms in the air, as if throwing fairy dust in the air to solve all our problems. "Yell, scream, let your voice be heard!"

Her words were edged by bitterness, and I stare up at her. She shrinks at the look, and I glance over at Fletcher.

"Sorry..." she murmurs, looking away. "Bringing my personal feelings in there. I've no right to speak."

I suck in air through my teeth and choose my next words carefully. "Do you... Do you want to talk about it?"

She plays with the idea but then presses her lips together in a pout and shakes her head. "Not right now. Today is a day to let loose, to spread our wings and fly too close to the sun. I say us losers go to the city and see what fun can be had."

We murmured in agreement, followed by a roar when she judged our pitiful display of enthusiasm. It was always nice to have Chelsea keeping check.

*****

The city is not exactly a hive of creativity for artists to paint the streets in their heart's colours, despite what you'd think. The buildings all feel squashed in, strangers having to share the bus, not really caring about the intimacy. But on the other hand, the cobbled streets shine like obsidian and the occasional splashes of vibrant greens and iridescent blues breathe life into an otherwise dismal grey.