Page 19 of Fame & Rhythm

She smiles. “All right, today we’re diving into algebra. So I need you all paying attention.” She reaches into her bag, like, really reaches, and for a second I swear she’s about to pull out a lamp or a dancing penguin.

Instead, she pulls out textbooks.

Aston groans under his breath.

Same.

We’d both rather play guitar than figure out why X equals something it clearly shouldn’t.

Give me an E note on the sixth string any day over algebra.

“Okay, laptops open. Take notes as we go, please,” Susan says.

I open a Word document and glance across at Ella. She’s already typing away like this is the most exciting thing in the world.

Of course she is.

She’s one of those people who gets everything. Doesn’t even have to try. Meanwhile, Aston and I usually need things explained a couple of times before they click.

But when it comes to music?

That’s where we’ve got the edge.

So I guess it balances out.

I look back at the SMART Board and start typing, trying to focus, when the little email icon pops up on my screen.

I flick my eyes up to Susan to make sure she’s not looking, then open it.

From Aston.

I smirk and glance sideways at him.

He’s already looking back at the board like he’s the most attentive student in the room.

To: Annie Slade

From: Aston Soulding

Subject: Booooooring!

OMG, how crap is it that it’s math again today? Maybe we should change our Friday trip to the strip club and bar to now? Think she’d notice if we snuck out? Tattoos are on me. lol

I chuckle to myself and look back up to see Susan still writing away on the SMART Board, blabbering on about the ‘commutative property of addition can add numbers in any order’ or some bullshit. I’m not even listening. So I hit reply.

To: Aston Soulding

From: Annie Slade

Subject: Re: Booooooring!

I think, seeing as there are only four people in the room, two of them missing might be a little too obvious. Maybe we have to stick it out until lunchtime, then say we’re violently ill from our lunch and have to go to the music room across the hall to rest. Shit! Doubt that will work either! Crap! I think we just have to sit through this boring shit until one of us dies from lack of brain excitement.

I hit send and glance sideways at him again to see if he’s read it, while a grin tugs at my lips. This is how we survive most days, emailing back and forth until something remotely interesting happens.

The little icon pops up again.

I open it and snort at the green face throwing up.