Roadie: A Summer Set FanFic

Chapter 1: The Tweet

*Note: I do not own any members of The Summer Set, the band itself, Twitter, or any songs used in this story. I do own the characters outside of the band.* The picture on the side is Tess.

"I regret to inform you that your application to the University of San Diego has been rejected."

Again.

My stomach dropped as I read the far-too familiar words. My eyes filled with tears. This was the fifth rejection letter I had received.

I had only applied to five colleges. I was so sure that I would be able to get into some Californian college, so I only applied to my top five. And now, my senior year was at its end, and I had no future planned out for myself.

I ripped up the letter and threw it out the open window of my second story bedroom, then flopped myself down on my bed, crying. What was I supposed to do now?

After about ten minutes of tears, the back pocket of my purple skinnies vibrated. I pulled out my phone and answered it, already knowing who it was.

"Hey, Blake," I answered, sniffing.

"Hey--wait are you crying?" she asked, concern filling her voice.

"Yeah, kinda," I laughed humorlessly as I wiped a tear from my cheek. "I just got a letter from San Diego."

"Oh no..." Blake murmured. I sighed.

"Yup, my fifth and final 'no' so I guess I'm not going to college."

"No Tess you have to go to college!" She exclaimed. "What job are you going to find that can pay for rent, utilities, your car, food--"

"Okay thanks for reminding me of how much my life sucks!" I interrupted bitterly. I kicked off my high tops and reached for my laptop.

"I'm sorry, boo," Blake said with a sigh. "But I'll be at San Diego in a month and a half. What are you going to do?"

"I have no idea," I mumbled, opening up Twitter on my computer. "But I'll start by tweeting about how upset I am. Maybe a retweet will make me feel better."

Blake laughed. "I'll retweet you, if no one else does."

"Thanks, hon."

"I have a government final to study for," She sighed. "I'll text you tonight."

"Okay, bye Blake."

"Bye."

I tossed my phone onto the beanbag chair on my floor and posted a quick tweet about my future of flipping burgers (#sadface), not in the mood to twitter-stalk any celebrities. I pushed my laptop aside, grabbed my guitar from its stand, and sat at my window seat. Staring out at the sunset, I began to strum a gentle, sad tune, until my mother's voice screeched through my closed door.

"Tessa!! Stop playing that thing and come eat dinner!!"

'That thing,' I repeated in my head. That was all music ever was to her. Just a thing from her past.

My mom hated music. All types. I think it reminds her of my father. He was a musician. He left right after I was born to pursue his dream of being a rock star. I found out later that his dreams failed. I'm glad I was so worth while...

Music was in my blood. It was always the most important thing to me, before school, even. I spent a majority of my free time playing my guitar or piano, writing songs, or learning covers of my favorite bands. My mother never approved. I had to buy all my instruments with my own money, all my sheet music, too. I had a part-time job at a music store downtown.

Music was my life. And my mom hated it. No wonder we never got along.

I sighed and lay my acoustic on my bed and went downstairs to eat.