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As soon as the bell rang, I was out the door. I didn’t want anything to do with Bryan or listen to any more of his accusations. He thought he knew my life just by outward appearances, but he didn’t know shit.
I traversed the hallways, ignoring all the other students wrapped up in their own little worlds. I had nothing to do with cheerleaders or football players or geeks or artists, and they wanted nothing to do with me.
People ignored me because they either didn’t know me or already knew that I didn’t want anything to do with them. I just wanted to get through my final year.
My high school career consisted of remaining unnoticed, doing only what I needed to do for classes. I had purposely kept to myself, only interacting with others when I had to. The result was that people didn’t know I existed. I’d be that girl who was in all the yearbooks but no one recognized. I had needed it to be like that because of my living situation, and now that it was the final year, it didn’t matter anymore. I only wanted to graduate and lose the shackles of high school.
Managing to waste enough time to get to class just as the last bell rang, I slipped into the classroom and claimed a seat by the door. I did it on purpose, making it easier to avoid Paxon and Justin since they were in my British lit class too. And I was right.
They watched as I slipped in and never stopped staring, even as the teacher began class. I didn’t miss the glances they gave me or how Paxon frantically texted on his phone, and then when he received a response, glared at it. He even got caught by the teacher who had no problem calling him out on it in front of the whole class. Mr. Mendes went on a five-minute rant about students today glued to their fancy little smart phones and missing out on the world. It was a speech I hadn’t already heard a million times in my life. I also didn’t miss the look Paxon gave me afterward, when Mr. Mendes finally calmed down enough to continue class. I was pretty damn sure he texted Bryan and didn’t like the answer he got.
The clock inched through time during class, and when it finally reached a minute before the bell rang, I was ready. As soon as the high-pitched ringing interrupted the teacher’s lesson, I was out the door and headed to study hall.
Yesterday, I had been excited to know that I’d have friendly faces in each class, that it was going to be new and exciting. Now I dreaded it. Study hall ended up being peaceful, knowing that none of them were in the class with me. I kept my head down and organized myself for the school year. A good friend of mine from summer camp when I was a kid had texted me a couple of times to check in, so I got to reply to him. His words of encouragement always helped to calm my nerves.
Then the bell rang way too soon, and I had to shove through the crowd to get to music analysis. I gritted my teeth, feeling frustration bubbling inside of me. They wanted to talk to me. I knew they did. But I didn’t want to hear Bryan’s friends apologizing for him again. If I gave them a moment to talk, they would. They were those kinds of friends, the type who stuck together no matter what. Them versus the world. I wanted no part of that.
Maybe if I ignored them long enough, they’d get the hint and leave me alone.
I was actually pretty excited for music analysis. It was a senior only class, and there were a bunch of prerequisites needed to be able to take the class. That meant, despite the massive population of the school, the music room was only half full of students, only about a dozen of us who took the time to take the right classes. A normal music class averaged at twenty-eight.
Snagging a seat near the window, but not near the back, I settled in. I liked this teacher and had already taken two of her other classes during my sophomore and junior year. She was strict, harsh, but because of it, we learned a lot. She pushed us hard and called us out on our bullshit if we ever tried to feed it to her. Maybe it was her motherly instincts since she had kids of her own, but she knew all the tricks in the book.
Toby was in the class, but he wasn’t there yet, and I hoped the seats around me filled up before he arrived. Unfortunately, that wasn’t meant to be. He came bounding into the room with a bright smile that only widened when he spotted an empty seat next to me. He came over and settled down.
A few of the students greeted him, and he returned it with big grins and small jokes. Hoping they’d keep him distracted until class started, I tried to melt into my seat, to give off vibes that I didn’t want to talk. All the while, the students kept coming to him, wanting some of his time.
I didn’t realize he was so popular, but I also got why he was. Toby was a ball of always moving energy, and he seemed genuinely nice. He knew all the other kids’ names, knew enough about them to toss tailored jokes their way. He was a real social butterfly.
Eventually, everyone went to their seats. I realized I had been staring at him for too long and faced forward, keeping my expression carefully empty of any of my thoughts. Once again, I went back to trying to give off vibes that I didn’t want to be bothered by anyone. Even pretended to focus on the paper in front of me, like I was reading something interesting.
If Toby saw the signs, he ignored them as he finally turned to me. “Hey, chica. What is this I’m hearing about you ignoring us? Is this how you treat new friends?”
My jaw fell open as I looked at him. I hadn’t expected him to be so… cheerful. And straightforward.
“Cadence?” His head tilted to the side, looking all cute and innocent. I snorted and faced the front as Mrs. Odera called for attention, making it easier to pretend he wasn’t there.
“Okay, class, welcome to music analysis. If this isn’t the name that matches with your schedule, then get out.” No one moved, and she grunted before really getting into it. “This class won’t be easy, so don’t expect it to be. We are going to explore music deeply, getting into what music means, why it exists, how it exists, and the power it has. We’ll look at history, time periods, civil rights movements, and war. We’ll composemeaningfulcompositions and do peer reviews.” She shot Toby a warning look. “I don’t want to hear about your goldfish. I know you are all capable of doing this because of the prerequisites needed for this class. We’re going to create and break down music. Not just any music, but yours. So prepare yourself and grow some thick skin. You’re going to need it.”
She paused long enough to take in everyone’s reactions. When no one looked like they were going to run out the door or jump out of the window in fear, she grunted again and moved on with the class. I leaned forward and listened carefully. Mrs. Odera had one of those smoky, low voices meant to sing a ballad and bring out the heartache inside of her listeners. She sang once in my class with her last year, and I cried. She had the type of voice I wanted, the type that reached the crowd without losing quality. I couldn’t help but wonder whether I had a voice like hers, would my dad hear me when I sang at a concert? I had a good voice, good enough to do local events, but I wasn’t going to be releasing an album in my lifetime. I didn’t want to either.
“First assignment: Think of a message you want to convey. It can be to anyone. Think deeply about what you want to tell them, what kind of message you want them to receive, and then write a song to give them that message. It can be to a parent, a sibling, your favorite actress, or singer, Scooby Doo, for all I care.” That got a few chuckles out of the students. “I don’t care about who it’s for, I care about what the message is. Make it deep. Make usfeel. Every song has a message, something the singer wants to convey to their listeners. Write that song, be true to it, and create its very essence. You will perform them next Monday for class and on Wednesday, you’ll turn in a five-page paper on why you chose that song, what it means to you, and so on. You’ll also need to attach your sheet music to that paper so I can look it over.”
No one in class was brave enough to moan or complain about having such a big assignment due so early into the semester and Mrs. Odera knew it. She grinned her wicked little smile.
“Good, no complaints. You guys are finally learning after spending your high school career stalking my classes. Because I know everyone is still getting over the high of summer break, I’ll be kind and give you this period to start. No partners, so I shouldn’t be hearing any chatter. If you have questions, I’ll come around to answer them.” When we didn’t move, she raised a brow. “Well, get started then.”
The classroom filled with students moving around, pulling out their notebooks and pencils. Mrs. Odera settled into her chair and began flipping through a pile of papers. I had no idea what she had to grade or work on considering it was the first day of classes, but she focused on them as she ignored us.
As for the new assignment, my thoughts instantly went to Lindie. My relationship was complicated. It wasn’t as simple as she liked to beat the shit out of me. There was so much woven into our relationship that I didn’t know how to untangle it. Even as a little girl, before Dad left, we had never been that close. She liked that I could sing and play instruments, and that I was good enough to win competitions and get invited to performances, but beyond that, I never really understood what she felt. All I knew was what I wanted out of her, she never gave me. I wanted love, acceptance. I wanted a mother to tell me there weren’t monsters under my bed. Or to talk to me about boys. But since Dad left, I never saw her warm smile again, and if she ever smiled at me, it was with cruelty.
If Mrs. Odera wanted emotions, I could give them to her.
At the top of the page, I wrote ‘Simple Things’ and then thought about everything I wanted from a mother and didn’t receive. A smile, a hug, a laugh. A kiss on my forehead would have been nice. Maybe even a pat on the head. Did people even do that? I guess it’d be a pat on the back. Thinking about all the things I missed out on was painful, and I blinked back furiously before I cried.
I fought back my emotions as I continued to think about the message I wanted to send to Lindie when I felt a nudge in my side. The unexpected touch had me taking in a sharp breath as my body clenched up, waiting for pain that never came. When I realized nothing was going to happen, I took in a deep breath and glared at Toby. He frowned for a moment before tossing over a folded piece of paper.
I blinked at it long and hard as I processed what he’d done. A note? In class? Wasn’t that a middle school thing? Slowly, with shaky fingers, I unfolded it.
