Out of Tune: The Original 2015 Draft

chapter 15

Music has charms to soothe a savage beast, to soften rocks, or to bend a knotted oak William Congreve

"Everybody on the bus!" Mrs. Patel yelled.

For the past ten minutes she'd been trying to get the attention of the majority of the senior history students going on the trip to New York. The jocks, in a stereotypical manner were passing a football back and forth while the rest of us sat impatiently on the bus. There were a few others, mainly a few "artistic" kids whose main inspiration came from a little friend called weed, that were standing at the back of the bus passing a joint back and forth.

Awesome.

"Will everybody please get on the bus?" Mrs. Patel yelled again. Again, nobody listened to her.

It took another twenty minutes for everyone to load onto the bus. I had a window seat and promptly stared out at the scenery rushing by us as Michael sat stoically beside me, saying nothing, but looking over at me frequently as if waiting for me to say something. I had no intention of saying anything.

It would take two days for us to reach New York by coach bus. We weren't stopping along the way—we had two drivers so that they could take turns sleeping—and once we reached the city that never sleeps we would be staying for five days before making the return trip home. Today was February third, my birthday, and we were due to be on the show this coming Friday, the seventh.

To say I was worried about exposing our identities was a mild understatement. I'd never been so worried about anything in my life. I knew that this was the right path though. I could feel the certainty in my bones and couldn't help but feel as if my father was looking down on me, urging me to do this one thing. Urging me to make it big in the music industry like he never could.

As the bus turned onto the highway towards New York, a sudden overwhelming rush of anxiety came over me. I wanted to go, but at the same time I didn't. This would be my first time back in the iconic city without my father there. I was afraid of how it would feel. Empty, maybe? Cold? Familiar?

I shuddered in my seat and drew my arms around me tightly. Michael looked at me in concern but I refused to meet his gaze, instead staring firmly out the window.

"You okay?" he asked quietly.

"Fine."

"You don't seem fine," he murmured in response. "I know we're not together or even friends but I want to be. Friends. I mean, I want more if you do but if you don't I'm happy with being friends and—"

"You're drivelling," I pointed out.

Michael's mouth snapped shut with an audible click. "Sorry," he said a moment later. I glanced over at him, surprised to see him flushing.

I sighed and turned back to the window. "It's the first time I've been back to New York since my...since someone close to me died. It just kind of hit me that they're not going to be there when we arrive."

"I'm sorry," Michael said after a moment's pause. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." I could barely talk about these things with Spencer and he was my best friend. There was no way I would be spilling my guts to Michael Black anytime soon.

Michael sighed as I stared out the window. He didn't attempt to engage me in any more conversations. Instead, he ignored me and talked to Kyle, Taylor's brother, which was perfectly fine with me. I slept for the majority of the ride, waking only for food, bathroom breaks, and occasional conversations with Taylor who was sitting beside her brother in front of us.