Jesse's Girl
Page 47
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“Shred all credit card offers the moment we get them in the mail,” the class drones.
“What’s the second most important secret to financial success?” Coach Lynn asks.
“Always balance your bank account.”
“Good,” she says. “Today, everybody is going to give a brief oral report on what they learned during shadow day.”
I groan under my breath. While the other students talk about how they spent the day—one guy helped a vet deliver a foal and another rode in a news helicopter—I sink farther and farther into my seat.
“Maya? Care to tell us about your shadow day experience?” The way Coach Lynn enunciates the world “experience,” you would think I’ve been riding roller coasters at a theme park.
I walk to the podium. “Um, I had the opportunity to shadow Jesse Scott.”
Suddenly, Dr. Salter appears in the doorway.
I go on, “During shadow day, I got to visit the studio where Jesse records his music, and he gave me some singing and guitar tips.” I lick my lips and take a quick glance at the class. “I had the opportunity to play a Les Paul electric guitar. I—”
“Did you fool around with him?” Zachary Painter asks, getting lots of laughs from other kids.
Dr. Salter’s face goes redder than his bow tie, and I wonder if it’s that obvious that I made out with Jesse Scott.
“Zack,” Coach Lynn reprimands. “Not in my classroom.” She focuses on me again. “What’s the most important thing you learned from Jesse, Maya?”
I think back to what he said when we goofed around on that playground. “I learned that I have to take chances if I want a chance at my dreams.”
That shuts the class up. Everybody, including Dr. Salter and Coach Lynn, seems to be thinking about my words. Jesse’s words.
Back at my desk, I pull my phone out of my pocket and search Jesse’s name. I stare at the cover of his greatest hits album. It’s him leaning against a blue pickup truck, staring at a field of sunflowers. If I had an album, what would be on the cover? How many tracks would it have? Would it be a mix of rock and pop?
That’s when I decide.
I’m going to take a chance. A big one.
Don’t Dream It’s Over
“My name is Maya Henry, and I’m the next Wannabe Rocker…I mean, winner of Wannabe Rocker!”
I cringe and hit the stop button on my phone. Wannabe Rocker audition videos are due in less than a week, and this is take #147. I am not exaggerating. I really have messed up that many times. Even with the singing tips Jesse and Holly gave me, my voice still cracks from time to time.
Anna pounds on the bathroom door. “I need to go bad, Maya! Let me in!”
“God, just use Mom’s bathroom!” I yell. Can’t she understand that the acoustics in this bathroom are necessary to my future success?
I adjust my guitar strap and get situated for take #148. I’m doing this, I tell myself. I’m going solo. I can do it.
That’s when my phone buzzes. I read: Hi.
Holy crap. It’s Jesse.
When I first thanked him for the boots, he wrote back: NP. No problem. I figured it was his parting gift for being an ass, and that would be it between us. I mean, besides our ongoing YouTube relationship where the number of views continues to rocket.
One day during lunch, Dave broke out the People magazine blurb about Jesse and me performing on the Belle Carol. Together we pored over the article, which talks about how Jesse made a young fan’s dream come true when he crashed her party. It also has a picture of us and notes that more than five million people have watched the video online so far.
But it’s been nearly two weeks since shadow day. Two weeks since I’ve heard from Jesse. And now he texts me?
Whatever. I don’t have time for this.
I fluff my hair, adjust my guitar, then reach over and press record on my phone. “My name is Maya Henry, and I’m the next winner of Wannabe Rocker!”
I launch into “Somebody to Love,” and I make it through the song with no issues, but it still doesn’t feel special enough. Should I go for a more soulful performance, or should I rock it out? I slip in my earbuds and listen to the original Queen version, wondering if I should switch the melody up to make my performance more interesting. Maybe I should choose another song. I’m no Freddie Mercury.
Another message from Jesse pops on the screen. It’s a link to a YouTube video, along with a text:
been thinking of you
I take a deep breath and push play. It’s a video of him at one of his concerts. The stage lights dim, and he begins plucking an acoustic guitar. He stares at his fingers as he plays each note, and he licks his lower lip, concentrating.
“What’s the second most important secret to financial success?” Coach Lynn asks.
“Always balance your bank account.”
“Good,” she says. “Today, everybody is going to give a brief oral report on what they learned during shadow day.”
I groan under my breath. While the other students talk about how they spent the day—one guy helped a vet deliver a foal and another rode in a news helicopter—I sink farther and farther into my seat.
“Maya? Care to tell us about your shadow day experience?” The way Coach Lynn enunciates the world “experience,” you would think I’ve been riding roller coasters at a theme park.
I walk to the podium. “Um, I had the opportunity to shadow Jesse Scott.”
Suddenly, Dr. Salter appears in the doorway.
I go on, “During shadow day, I got to visit the studio where Jesse records his music, and he gave me some singing and guitar tips.” I lick my lips and take a quick glance at the class. “I had the opportunity to play a Les Paul electric guitar. I—”
“Did you fool around with him?” Zachary Painter asks, getting lots of laughs from other kids.
Dr. Salter’s face goes redder than his bow tie, and I wonder if it’s that obvious that I made out with Jesse Scott.
“Zack,” Coach Lynn reprimands. “Not in my classroom.” She focuses on me again. “What’s the most important thing you learned from Jesse, Maya?”
I think back to what he said when we goofed around on that playground. “I learned that I have to take chances if I want a chance at my dreams.”
That shuts the class up. Everybody, including Dr. Salter and Coach Lynn, seems to be thinking about my words. Jesse’s words.
Back at my desk, I pull my phone out of my pocket and search Jesse’s name. I stare at the cover of his greatest hits album. It’s him leaning against a blue pickup truck, staring at a field of sunflowers. If I had an album, what would be on the cover? How many tracks would it have? Would it be a mix of rock and pop?
That’s when I decide.
I’m going to take a chance. A big one.
Don’t Dream It’s Over
“My name is Maya Henry, and I’m the next Wannabe Rocker…I mean, winner of Wannabe Rocker!”
I cringe and hit the stop button on my phone. Wannabe Rocker audition videos are due in less than a week, and this is take #147. I am not exaggerating. I really have messed up that many times. Even with the singing tips Jesse and Holly gave me, my voice still cracks from time to time.
Anna pounds on the bathroom door. “I need to go bad, Maya! Let me in!”
“God, just use Mom’s bathroom!” I yell. Can’t she understand that the acoustics in this bathroom are necessary to my future success?
I adjust my guitar strap and get situated for take #148. I’m doing this, I tell myself. I’m going solo. I can do it.
That’s when my phone buzzes. I read: Hi.
Holy crap. It’s Jesse.
When I first thanked him for the boots, he wrote back: NP. No problem. I figured it was his parting gift for being an ass, and that would be it between us. I mean, besides our ongoing YouTube relationship where the number of views continues to rocket.
One day during lunch, Dave broke out the People magazine blurb about Jesse and me performing on the Belle Carol. Together we pored over the article, which talks about how Jesse made a young fan’s dream come true when he crashed her party. It also has a picture of us and notes that more than five million people have watched the video online so far.
But it’s been nearly two weeks since shadow day. Two weeks since I’ve heard from Jesse. And now he texts me?
Whatever. I don’t have time for this.
I fluff my hair, adjust my guitar, then reach over and press record on my phone. “My name is Maya Henry, and I’m the next winner of Wannabe Rocker!”
I launch into “Somebody to Love,” and I make it through the song with no issues, but it still doesn’t feel special enough. Should I go for a more soulful performance, or should I rock it out? I slip in my earbuds and listen to the original Queen version, wondering if I should switch the melody up to make my performance more interesting. Maybe I should choose another song. I’m no Freddie Mercury.
Another message from Jesse pops on the screen. It’s a link to a YouTube video, along with a text:
been thinking of you
I take a deep breath and push play. It’s a video of him at one of his concerts. The stage lights dim, and he begins plucking an acoustic guitar. He stares at his fingers as he plays each note, and he licks his lower lip, concentrating.
