After her father's tragic passing, Nora Davis is forced behind the scenes, nothing more than a stepping stone for others in their journey to stardom. When an opportunity presents itself, Nora, trapped under her stepmother's heel, takes it as her cha...
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Grumpy officially lost his mind.
I can't get you anything until Friday at the earliest, Nora texted.
His response came in two rapid-fire texts.
That's bs.
Get me 1 by 2morrow aftr skwl.
Biting the side of her thumb, Nora stared down at her cheap, old smartphone. How would she come up with an entire piece by tomorrow after school? That was near impossible. She'd have to start writing the second she got home. Homework would suffer. Already her once-perfect grades coasted into a slow nosedive. Just yesterday, Professor Hamilton slapped her with a beautiful, big D on her geometry test. If she didn't hit the ground running, they'd sink lower—something the school would notice.
Around her, the squeak of shoes and bustle of students drowned out the music playing over the intercom during passing periods. Students shouted across the sticky compact space to their friends across the way. The tinny slam of locker doors echoed through the air. The music cut off, drenching the students in quick, sudden silence, right before the bell for third period rang it's three chords.
Crap.
Her literature book, a heavy, thousand-plus page hardcover, felt like a cement block in her arms. She yanked a half-ripped purple folder from the bottom of her cluttered locker and flung the metal door closed.
Three minutes late to Professor Crews' Literature class. In high school—especially at Jostlin Music Academy—three minutes was too long. Aces took out loans, sold stocks, and worked three jobs to send their kids here. Families dipped into savings to pay the tuition every year. Even then it wasn't enough.
The door creaked as she opened it, making her wince. Of course.
Twenty heads looked over. At the board, Professor Crews was in the middle of scrawling out notes in his illegible handwriting. "Ms. Davis, how gracious of you to make it."
The class snickered. Face flaming, she rushed to her seat at the end of the third row—right by the big windows.
It took a few minutes after class resumed for her face to cool. Thank Creator Professor Crews hadn't given her a tardy. Five tardies and she could kiss her detention free record goodbye.
Something tiny struck the back of her neck. Bringing her hand up to cover the affected area, she glanced behind her.
Tessa, her closest friend, made a face at her.
Nora turned to the front of the room. Professor Crews was discussing something about a double meaning to the war poem they'd read for homework.
