Out of Tune

Chapter Four

Music washes away from the soul the dust of everyday life- Berthold Auerbach

She had somehow thought that high school would be different in California than it was in New York but the students loitering around the hallways – lined with forest green lockers – was an abundantly familiar and comforting sight.

Lennon had her backpack slung over one shoulder and as she maneuvered her way towards the administrative office, she tugged the strap a little bit higher. There were enough students that no one looked at her twice. She could blend in here. Not the new girl.

Just Lennon.

The office was empty except for her and the administrator behind the desk. "How can I help you?" the woman asked.

Lennon said, "I'm a new student here. I need to get my timetable?"

"Of course! What's your name?"

It took a few minutes to get it sorted but when Lennon left the office she held a locker number, a timetable, and a map to find her classes. She had only made it a few steps when her name was called out.

"Hey, Lennon!"

She turned instinctively at the sound of her name. A dark haired boy with glasses was walking towards her. Vaguely familiar. It took her a moment to place him but this was the boy she'd met at that music shop.

"Hi," Lennon greeted. "Simon, right?"

His smile faltered. "Uh—"

"That's not right, is it?"

"No."

She winced. Great second impression, she thought. "Sorry. I'm really terrible with names."

He waved that off and an easy grin graced his lips. "Don't sweat it. We had a five-minute conversation in a record store. If your name wasn't so unique I probably wouldn't have remembered it either. It's Spencer."

"Right. Nice to see you again, Spencer."

"You too. And welcome to Los Altos High."

"Thanks."

"Have a nice weekend?"

No. "Yeah, it was great. How about you?"

Spencer shrugged. "Just days of the week. Anyways, you need any help finding where you're going?"

Lennon glanced at her schedule. "You don't happen to know where I can find the Calculus room, do you?"

"With Sievers?" he clarified.

"Yeah."

Spencer grinned and pushed his glasses a little higher up on his nose. "I can take you. I'm headed there as well."

They chatted as they walked, discussing some of the bands they'd been browsing at Spin City. Lennon was surprised to find that they had the same music taste, agreeing on almost all of the same artists and best albums.

The keyword was almost.

"No way," Spencer said, his voice rising with passion. "There is absolutely no way that Bobbi Foyett is a better guitarist than Karl Michele. It's just not possible."

"I really did not want to get in a fight with someone on my first day but you're awfully close to drawing me into one, Spencer. Just watch Bobbi's performance from the Pandemonium rave. She's a pure genius. And she writes all of her own music. Unlike Mr. Michele who relies on his label to do it for him."