Not.
I was the unwanted child; I know this. One, I’m not a boy. Two, I don’t play hockey. And three, I actually have a mind of my own. Oh, and I’m sarcastic. Very sarcastic. Drives my dad nuts, but I’m always begging to stand out. Not only am I the shortest of the family at a modest 5’5”, but my brothers are all over 6 feet. Even my mom is tall. It’s like Matty sucked up all my height and added it to his. It wasn’t fair, and I always got overlooked. Why sign me up for dance when we have two tournaments in one weekend? Why buy me a Barbie when Laurence, Seth, and Matty all need new gear? Who cares if I don’t want to go to tournaments or games? What I wanted didn’t matter, only the boys.
Nope, I was always the afterthought. Always put on the back burner for hockey. My mom tried, she did, but with four big personalities like my dad and my brothers, we couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
But things are about to change. I am on my own, I am making my own decisions, and it is time to live my life.
I know they wanted my hopes and dreams to lead me to Boston College, but that place had nothing for me. I want to be a singer, a songwriter, something other than the add-on to Matty Haverbrooke. Yeah, I know I could live my dreams there, play at some coffee shops, but that isn’t enough for me. I want to be in the heart of music. I want to live and breathe the industry. And what better place than the music capital of the world? No, I am home now and I am ready to do this.
Ready to live the life I want.
The life where I come first. I matter.
And it was hard to ignore how I felt under that guy’s gaze. It felt like I was all he saw, and that was awesome. I wasn’t just the girl you slept with to get closer to her family. No, I was just some girl, leaned up against a tree, playing a tune. Hey, he liked me enough to tip me. It was only two bucks, but that’s a start! I might have to frame my two bucks, just so I never forget this moment.
The moment when I was Avery Rose Haverbrooke. A singer. Against a tree.
Hey, it has a ring to it.
Setting my guitar down, I pull the two bucks back out and take a quick picture, sending it to my mom with the caption:
Some dude tipped me for singing.
Before I could even pick my case back up, a text came through.
Mom: Because you are awesome! Whoopin it up!
Rolling my eyes, I laugh.
Me: Mom, what is whoopin it up?
Mom: I heard it on that Housewives show. Is that not right?
This woman… Gets rid of her last two kids and starts watching trash TV and eating bonbons. I wouldn’t want it any other way, though. My brothers have run her into the ground, and I know I wasn’t easy to raise.
Me: Yeah, but usually, they say it in the context like, we are about to whoop it up. I think you should have said whoop whoop!
Mom: Oh. Well, WHOOP WHOOP! I knew I could count on you to support me when I’m old.
Me: Good job, Mom. And yes, I got you.
Mom: Thanks, love you. Miss you.
Me: Love and miss you too.
I go to tuck my phone into my pocket when it signals another text. Glancing down at it, I find it’s her again.
Mom: Did you pick your meds up? I called the doctor and she said she sent them to the pharmacy on campus.
Swallowing loudly, I type back.
Me: Yeah, picked them up this morning. All is well.
Mom: Good.
Sucking in a breath, I start for my dorm, putting my phone in my pocket. It is only a two-minute walk from where I was sitting to play around on my guitar. I had been getting ready for the video I wanted to post and I wanted fresh air. I wish it weren’t hot as hell, but it’s okay. I dealt, and because of it, I met Lame Line Larry, so I feel I’m winning.
When my dorm comes into view, I smile. It’s okay, small, but I love my roommate. She is a very quiet and sweet girl named Mekena Preston, and she doesn’t mind all my sound equipment. Probably because all she needs is her bookshelf of books and she is good. Nonetheless, I like her and we are getting along effortlessly, which is great.
The thing is, I am happy. Like, really happy. I love the campus. It has everything I need, even a coffee shop with an open mic night twice a week. Along with that, the other big reason I applied to go here was the fact that everything was on one campus, so I really didn’t need to leave unless I wanted to. They have a great music program with teachers who have worked in the industry for years. For once, I actually have something to be excited about. It is mind-blowing. Not only that, but I am so close to the heart of Nashville and that is awesome since I am trying desperately to get an internship at a music label.
This is what I want, and I am doing it.
I am almost to my dorm when my phone rings, vibrating like mad in my pocket as Ed Sheeran sings “Thinking out Loud.” In my opinion, that is one of the best-written songs, lyrically. Dude is a genius. But when I see it’s my dad, I groan. “Damn it.”
Well, there goes my good mood.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, baby. How’s everything?”
“Good, just going back to my dorm. I was playing outside. It’s so warm here.”
“Yeah, I like Tennessee fall. It’s nice… Oh, one second.”
Rolling my eyes, I shut the door behind me, laying my guitar on my bed before sitting down.
“Sorry about that.”
“No big deal,” I say, crossing my legs as I listen to him shuffle around paperwork. I’m not sure why he called when he is at the office, but I figure it must be important. “So, what’s up?”
“Oh, not much, just calling to see how everything is going.”
“Great, I’m moved in and happy.”
“Good. You got your meds, though?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Great, have you decided… Oh, wait. Hold on, honey,” he says quickly and I sigh. This is why I hate talking to my dad on the phone. I am always on hold. “Avery, sorry, have you decided if you are coming up for the opening game? I haven’t spoken to you since you left.”
Yeah, because he is always busy and also because he is still a little bitter I didn’t go to school close to home. He works a lot, I know, but come on. I’ve been gone for two weeks, and this is the first I hear from him? And also, it’s about hockey? Yeah. He’s mad.
“Yeah, I don’t know.”
“Honey, remember it’s a tradition.”
“That I don’t like,” I say, but before he can scold me for it, I quickly start talking. “I’ll think about it. Depends on my classes.”
I was the unwanted child; I know this. One, I’m not a boy. Two, I don’t play hockey. And three, I actually have a mind of my own. Oh, and I’m sarcastic. Very sarcastic. Drives my dad nuts, but I’m always begging to stand out. Not only am I the shortest of the family at a modest 5’5”, but my brothers are all over 6 feet. Even my mom is tall. It’s like Matty sucked up all my height and added it to his. It wasn’t fair, and I always got overlooked. Why sign me up for dance when we have two tournaments in one weekend? Why buy me a Barbie when Laurence, Seth, and Matty all need new gear? Who cares if I don’t want to go to tournaments or games? What I wanted didn’t matter, only the boys.
Nope, I was always the afterthought. Always put on the back burner for hockey. My mom tried, she did, but with four big personalities like my dad and my brothers, we couldn’t get a word in edgewise.
But things are about to change. I am on my own, I am making my own decisions, and it is time to live my life.
I know they wanted my hopes and dreams to lead me to Boston College, but that place had nothing for me. I want to be a singer, a songwriter, something other than the add-on to Matty Haverbrooke. Yeah, I know I could live my dreams there, play at some coffee shops, but that isn’t enough for me. I want to be in the heart of music. I want to live and breathe the industry. And what better place than the music capital of the world? No, I am home now and I am ready to do this.
Ready to live the life I want.
The life where I come first. I matter.
And it was hard to ignore how I felt under that guy’s gaze. It felt like I was all he saw, and that was awesome. I wasn’t just the girl you slept with to get closer to her family. No, I was just some girl, leaned up against a tree, playing a tune. Hey, he liked me enough to tip me. It was only two bucks, but that’s a start! I might have to frame my two bucks, just so I never forget this moment.
The moment when I was Avery Rose Haverbrooke. A singer. Against a tree.
Hey, it has a ring to it.
Setting my guitar down, I pull the two bucks back out and take a quick picture, sending it to my mom with the caption:
Some dude tipped me for singing.
Before I could even pick my case back up, a text came through.
Mom: Because you are awesome! Whoopin it up!
Rolling my eyes, I laugh.
Me: Mom, what is whoopin it up?
Mom: I heard it on that Housewives show. Is that not right?
This woman… Gets rid of her last two kids and starts watching trash TV and eating bonbons. I wouldn’t want it any other way, though. My brothers have run her into the ground, and I know I wasn’t easy to raise.
Me: Yeah, but usually, they say it in the context like, we are about to whoop it up. I think you should have said whoop whoop!
Mom: Oh. Well, WHOOP WHOOP! I knew I could count on you to support me when I’m old.
Me: Good job, Mom. And yes, I got you.
Mom: Thanks, love you. Miss you.
Me: Love and miss you too.
I go to tuck my phone into my pocket when it signals another text. Glancing down at it, I find it’s her again.
Mom: Did you pick your meds up? I called the doctor and she said she sent them to the pharmacy on campus.
Swallowing loudly, I type back.
Me: Yeah, picked them up this morning. All is well.
Mom: Good.
Sucking in a breath, I start for my dorm, putting my phone in my pocket. It is only a two-minute walk from where I was sitting to play around on my guitar. I had been getting ready for the video I wanted to post and I wanted fresh air. I wish it weren’t hot as hell, but it’s okay. I dealt, and because of it, I met Lame Line Larry, so I feel I’m winning.
When my dorm comes into view, I smile. It’s okay, small, but I love my roommate. She is a very quiet and sweet girl named Mekena Preston, and she doesn’t mind all my sound equipment. Probably because all she needs is her bookshelf of books and she is good. Nonetheless, I like her and we are getting along effortlessly, which is great.
The thing is, I am happy. Like, really happy. I love the campus. It has everything I need, even a coffee shop with an open mic night twice a week. Along with that, the other big reason I applied to go here was the fact that everything was on one campus, so I really didn’t need to leave unless I wanted to. They have a great music program with teachers who have worked in the industry for years. For once, I actually have something to be excited about. It is mind-blowing. Not only that, but I am so close to the heart of Nashville and that is awesome since I am trying desperately to get an internship at a music label.
This is what I want, and I am doing it.
I am almost to my dorm when my phone rings, vibrating like mad in my pocket as Ed Sheeran sings “Thinking out Loud.” In my opinion, that is one of the best-written songs, lyrically. Dude is a genius. But when I see it’s my dad, I groan. “Damn it.”
Well, there goes my good mood.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, baby. How’s everything?”
“Good, just going back to my dorm. I was playing outside. It’s so warm here.”
“Yeah, I like Tennessee fall. It’s nice… Oh, one second.”
Rolling my eyes, I shut the door behind me, laying my guitar on my bed before sitting down.
“Sorry about that.”
“No big deal,” I say, crossing my legs as I listen to him shuffle around paperwork. I’m not sure why he called when he is at the office, but I figure it must be important. “So, what’s up?”
“Oh, not much, just calling to see how everything is going.”
“Great, I’m moved in and happy.”
“Good. You got your meds, though?”
“Yeah, I did.”
“Great, have you decided… Oh, wait. Hold on, honey,” he says quickly and I sigh. This is why I hate talking to my dad on the phone. I am always on hold. “Avery, sorry, have you decided if you are coming up for the opening game? I haven’t spoken to you since you left.”
Yeah, because he is always busy and also because he is still a little bitter I didn’t go to school close to home. He works a lot, I know, but come on. I’ve been gone for two weeks, and this is the first I hear from him? And also, it’s about hockey? Yeah. He’s mad.
“Yeah, I don’t know.”
“Honey, remember it’s a tradition.”
“That I don’t like,” I say, but before he can scold me for it, I quickly start talking. “I’ll think about it. Depends on my classes.”
