promise | j.g

20.0 || fine, prove it to me

warning.

sucky bc writers block.

©

//Elena//

"Alright class, take out your song book and turn to page 15," announced Ms. McLaren.

Music class was by far my favorite class of the day, especially since its my last class. Unfortunately, I only have it every other day, and it's also the only class I don't have with David.

Singing is the only thing that really makes me feel like I belong, it makes me feel like I'm part of something.

I've never told anyone that I could sing even though I've been singing for as long as I could remember. My dad and I would always do karaoke together when I was younger, up until I moved away.

Westside has a show case in the middle of the year for the Seniors. Every participant has a different talent to showcase: singing, dancing, playing an instrument, etc. The school invites a few professional scouts to sit in the audience in hopes of finding one lucky student to give a scholarship to a performing arts college of their choice.

"Ms. Lancaster, would you care to demonstrate page 15," interrupted Ms. McLaren.

I simply nodded, getting up from my seat. I focused on my breathing as I walked on the stage that we had in the auditorium, which is the same place where the showcase is going to be held.

I fiddled with the paper in my hands, nervously looking at the class. Stacy, who had arrived a few minutes late to class, was now sitting there with the biggest smirk on her face, waiting for me to crack and fail.

Stacy Lahar, also known as Westside's queen bee, has made my life a living hell since softmore year. I still don't know what her deal is with me but all I know is that she is doing a very good job at being intimidating right now.

Before I could begin the first note of the song, the back door of the auditorium creaked open, a loud noise, echoing through the room.

Making his way toward the class was none other than Jack Gilinsky himself. At first I was excited yet confused that Jack was in this class because I never knew of he could sing or not but that was until I heard why he was sent here.

"Mr. Gilinsky why are you in my class, I'm most certain you don't belong here," Ms. McLaren questioned.

Jack stood there, anxiously scratching the back of his head, shifting from leg to leg. That's always something he's done since the day I'd met him whenever he got nervous.

"I.... I-um..," He stuttered and handed her a blue slip.

Ms.McLaren eyed the slip for a few moments before shaking her head in disappointment. Jack was never the type of student to usually get in trouble, I was taken aback.

"Mr.Gilinsky, may I ask why you were frolicking in the hallway, and caught inside the janitors closet," She asked, slightly puzzled.

The minute the words "caught" and "janitors closet" left her mouth, my eyes went wide in horror. I'm praying Jack wasn't doing what I think he did.

By the look in his eyes and the way his head hung low shamefully, I knew what had happened. Now with who was a different story, in which I wanted no part in.

Ms.McLaren told Jack to take a seat in the empty chair next to mine. She then turned her attention back to me and motioned to the pianist to start.

Ms.Mclaren told me to begin and I did as he played the first few notes on the piano.

"You got me sippin' on something