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ithinkyouhealedmyheart · 2 months ago

Text

Ghostwriter Ch 1

Unebtad, Unedited, Unhinged || AO3

Pairings: Kendall Knight/Female Original Character, Female Original Character/Female Original Character in the background, Logan Henderson/Camille Roberts in the background, James Diamond/Lucy Stone in the background

Characters: Kendall Knight, James Diamond, Logan Henderson, Carlos Garcia, Gustavo Rocque, Kelly Wainright, Arthur Griffin, Ronnie Clark oc, Callie oc, Addison oc,

Word Count: 6818

“Your new song got five more hits!”

Addison turned her phone around and excitedly thrust it in her friend's face. She would be bouncing up and down excitedly if she weren't sitting down. Her blonde ponytail would be swaying, and the various bags at her feet would be bunched up in her arms, rattling and knocking together. Her face lit up, brown eyes sparkling as she smiled from ear to ear. Veronica, or Ronnie as she preferred, looked up from trying to wipe mustard off her yellow pullover, haphazardly dabbing at the dark stain with steadily growing frustration.

“Five more? That’s nothing. Don’t tell me you’ve been playing it once in a while to bump up its ratings.” Callie, a natural brunette who dyed her hair black whenever her roots started to show, was sipping on a smoothie. Her black lipstick left a ring around the straw.

“What? You can’t admit that Ronnie has some kind of talent?” Addison waggled the phone in front of Ronnie’s face. The blue-haired girl squinted to read the numbers on the small screen.

“Ugh, you need a new phone, Adds. I can barely see anything.” Ronnie balled up the napkin and tossed it on the table. “Did you take a picture of your computer screen?”

“You need glasses, " Addison said, pulling her phone back. It was a white Nokia 3720 classic.

“And you need a better phone,” Callie commented.

“Thanks for your unwarranted opinion, Hot Topic.” The blonde rolled her eyes.

“For your information, that’s where emo’s shop. I’m Goth.”

Ronnie took Addison’s water and wet the napkin, dabbing it lightly on the stain. She was more occupied with trying to get rid of it. She didn’t want to walk around with a mustard stain on her favorite sweatshirt. She wouldn’t have noticed it until Callie pointed it out, nor did she know how she got it. Not really. Someone must have spilled mustard on the pretzel counter, and when she leaned on it, the condiment transferred to her clothes.

“Ugh, Ronnie, you don’t know what you are doing. Take it off and give it to me.” Addison put her phone down and raised a brow. “It’s like you don’t pay attention in Home Eck.”

“I don’t,” She remarked and hesitantly handed her pullover to Addison. “Mr. Lawrence has it out for me.”

“You say that about every teacher,” Callie scoffed and rolled her eyes. “It’s not their fault you don’t do the homework. Y’know, if you can’t handle high school and a job, you should quit the ice rink.”

“I can’t.”

“Oh, right, because you need the job.” Callie mocked.

“Hey, you’re not being cool right now.” Addison kicked her leg under the table. The goth adjusted in her seat and went back to texting on her phone.

“Whatever,” she stuck her middle finger up. “You think you’re so cool because you wear a short skirt and wave pompoms around.”

“Fuck off, you used to be a cheerleader too.” Addison rolled her eyes.

Ronnie pulled at her sweater. She might not have needed to wear her pullover sweatshirt, but it was like a security blanket. Leaning back and trying to relax, she tapped her foot anxiously on the floor. Without the extra layer, it felt so much colder than it was. Rubbing her arms, she eyes the way Addison dabbed a clean napkin on the stain. The blonde wasn’t doing anything different, yet somehow, the stain wasn’t as bad. There was a dark patch from the damp napkin, but that was about it. The stain wouldn’t crust over, but it would still have to be washed.

They were at the mall after school on a Friday afternoon because it was Friday. There was always something to do at the start of the weekend, and it was better than being at home. Ronnie didn’t have to work, nor did she have any club meetings. Callie took any chance to chill at the mall and sit around instead of going back to her parent's flower center and dealing with the elderly and senile customers. Addison avoided her boyfriend Trent because he threw a stupid house party again and drunkenly made out with some random girl in the kitchen. When they got to the mall, the shopping portion was out of the way. Addison whisked Ronnie off to all her favorite stores, and Callie stood outside like an angry guard dog whenever they went to change. Ronnie never liked to buy anything, but it didn’t stop Addison from buying her something small and slipping it into her bag when they left the store.

“Oh, you wish you could fuck me.” Callie sneered with venom, narrowing her eyes.

Ronnie wasn’t going to share her inside thoughts. She'd known something was happening between Addison and Callie for a while, but it wasn’t her place to talk about it. Whatever was going on, she hoped they figured it out before ripping each other’s heads off.

“It’s decent. When you get home, use a stain remover on it.” Addison returned her yellow pullover, and Ronnie immediately pulled it back on.

“I’m telling you, she’ll be buried in that thing.” Callie glanced at her blue-haired friend through her lashes. “I think you should dye your hair yellow to match.”

“I think you should dye your hair pink,” Addison rolled her eyes and got up. She drank the last of her bottled water and crushed the plastic.

“What– Pink? That would look so bad– I hate you.” Callie scowled and crossed her arms tightly.

“It would be nice to see some color,” Ronnie said quietly. “You could pull off green quite nicely.”

“Shut up.” Callie huffed and puffed out her cheeks. She wasn’t wearing a white foundation but sported graphic black eyeliner with sharp edges and angles paired with smokey black eye shadow.

“Who’s ready for round two of shopping? I need some summer clothes.” Addison had a bounce in her step. She picked up her shopping bags and pocketed her phone in her tan faux fur coat.

“Sure, I’m bored and feel like walking around.” Callie got up and stretched. She picked up one of the bags before the blonde could get to it.

“More shopping? You know I’m only agreeing because I have to follow you everywhere, considering you’re my ride.” Ronnie chewed on the straw of her soda. It was still half full. They had been sitting there for about an hour.

“Either way, I get to make you try cute clothes and act like you have legs and arms like every other person.” Addison smiled from ear to ear. “We could start at the other end of the mall and make our way back.”

“I’ll be holding the bags, I guess,” Callie motioned for the bags Addison had looped around her arms. She was pretending like she was being forced, but they all knew Callie wanted to hold her bags.

“Aren’t you sweet!” Addison chirped and happily handed her bags over to Callie. She wobbled under the weight but otherwise kept a straight face. The tips of her ears turned pink, and Ronnie couldn’t help but snicker behind her hand.

“We should go to Victoria’s Secret first!”

Addison bounced away, her ponytail swaying behind her. Callie followed after like a puppy at her heels, and Ronnie struggled to keep up with her taller friends. She half-jokingly considered buying platform boots to be at least able to compete with Callie, but the two were relatively the same height without her platforms. The blonde, Addison, was on a mission, and nothing could stop her. Despite her stature, she effortlessly weaved around others while strolling the mall. Callie unceremoniously bumped into everyone with the shopping bags and apologized like a shaking leaf in the wind. Ronnie shook her head and stifled her laughter, and every time the goth turned to glare at her, she couldn’t stop cracking up.

Victoria’s Secret was mainly black and pink, so Addison loved it. Pink was her favorite color. Callie and Ronnie looked out of place, standing in the store, idly looking over clothing items or standing around. It wasn’t the first store of their choice. It wasn’t a store they would choose to go to at all. Addison picked up clothing items, not worried about the price tags. As far as her friends were concerned, she had money to burn. The goth kept her eyes on the floor, and if she did look up, her face would flush a shade of pink, and she would avert her gaze again. Ronnie, although unphased, was mainly uncomfortable. It wasn’t that she didn’t like shopping at Victoria’s Secret, which she didn’t, but she could feel the perfume in the air sticking to the hairs inside her nose and coating them like grease. If she had allergies, they would be acting up, but so far, it was only a mild discomfort on top of how awkward she felt standing in the store.

Even if she were like Addison, she wouldn’t want to shop at Victoria’s Secret. There wasn’t anything wrong with the store besides the ungodly use of perfume in the air, but it never felt like a place she could be comfortable at. Maybe that was because she never felt closely tied to being a “traditional girl” in some weird way. Her father taught her about the car, she knew how to change a tire, she loved hockey and football, and pretty much any sport other than baseball. But it didn’t mean she wasn’t a girl. She wasn’t into all the shopping, glitter, and frills, but that wasn’t what made anyone a girl. Nothing else mattered as long as she felt like she was a girl.

Ronnie stopped zoning out and shook her head before she went on a tangent, but her friends forgot she was in the store. Addison approached her with her arms full of clothes and deposited some items into her open hands.

“No time to pout. Go try them on!” She ushered her friend to one of the changing rooms.

Callie was waiting idly, adjusting how she carried the bags to distribute the weight equally. There was no doubt in Ronnie’s mind that her friend's arms would be aching tomorrow, like her feet. Platform shoes weren’t the best to stand in, but they looked great and made Callie a little taller than Addison. That was what Callie wanted: to be taller. Of course, that came with a price. Blisters. Ronnie had tried wearing platforms once and got blisters after an hour or two. They have since been buried at the bottom of her closet and hidden away so she would never have the bright idea of wearing them again.

She stood there awkwardly in the oddly spacious changing room. The aspect she hated the most about shopping was trying on one item of clothing, probably because Addison always threw clothes at her without warning. If she went shopping alone, she wouldn’t mind all that much. Holding the bras in her hands, she wondered how the blonde knew her size, but she could only assume that she was guessing and picking randomly. Instead of trying them on, Ronnie sat on the ottoman in the corner by the mirror and pulled out her phone. Unlike her friends, she had a flip phone. To pass the time, she decided to text Rebecca, her project partner for this semester. The girl was practically a walking encyclopedia and would surely be happy enough to waste time with Ronnie. At least she assumed Rebecca would help her waste time and avoid having to try on and take off the clothing items Addison handed her. Unfortunately, her text went unanswered. Although she wanted to sit there and wait for the staff or her cheerful friend to ask if she was okay, she sighed and stared at the bras she hung up on the hooks across from her.

Ronnie came out of the changing rooms first, with a handful of bras haphazardly hanging off the hangers. Callie perked up but played it off by pretending to be checking something on the bottom of her shoes as if she stepped in something.

“Ugh, come on, Adds. Can we go?” Callie groaned and threw her head back. “I can feel myself memorizing cheer routines.”

“Just a second!” Addison called back. “I’m having trouble un-clipping the bra, but I’ll be out in a few seconds! I promise.”

“Why don’t you go help her?” Ronnie cracked a smile.

“Me? No– What– That wouldn’t– I can’t–” Callie’s face tinted a shade of red, and the blue-haired girl figured her gothic friend would die of embarrassment.

“Relax, I’m joking.”

“Oh- Right.”

“I’m done!”

Addison struck a pose when she exited the changing rooms. Neither girl knew if their bubbly companion would buy all the bras she had taken into the changing rooms. It might not be the first time she bought anything she could grab, but they watched incredulously as she put each item of clothing back on the rack. She turned on her heel and tilted her head cluelessly.

“What?”

“You’re putting it all back?” Callie breathed out, mouth agape.

“Yeah? Why not?” Addison blinked twice. “I already have a lot of this stuff. Trying it on was fun!”

“That makes one of us,” Ronnie murmured.

“Come on, we have dozens of other stores!”

Their shopping montage consisted of Ronnie and Callie following Addison, who felt more at home in the mall than in her house. It was the only mall for miles, and she spent much more time in food courts and clothing stores than at home alone with her brother while their mom worked. Ronnie only envied her for having a sibling just because she had someone to keep her company while home alone. She didn’t want to be forced to share her things with someone else, not because she was a greedy, spoiled brat but because there was so little of it already. Moving a lot during childhood left her with a relatively small amount of clothes, and she would go crazy if her siblings felt the need to go through her clothes and take what they wanted. In a way, she was glad her parents were older.

Waving goodbye to her friends, she thanked Addison for the ride home. She didn’t forget her backpack this time, and the car door shut with a thud. The car didn’t pull away from the curb until Ronnie was inside her house. She slotted the keys into the lock and turned as she pushed on the door. Her shoulder collided with the hard material, and she cursed under her breath. Sometimes, the front door stuck because it didn’t fit in the frame. Her dad kept reminding himself to replace it every other week but never tried. Then again, half his paycheck went to medical bills for all the doctor’s visits and prescriptions. With quite a bit of effort, Ronnie pushed the door with her entire body weight as she turned the knob. Callie and Addison from the car witnessed their blue-haired friend falling straight on her face, and the giant golden dog came to the rescue. He sniffed around while she pulled herself off the floor and turned back just as the car pulled away. It saved her from whatever comment Callie would make about it.

“It’s okay, Scout. I’m okay.” She scratched the top of his head and pulled the keys out of the lock. It took almost as much force to close the door as it did to open the door. She wondered how her dad did this every morning.

Ronnie kicked off her boots, joined the pile of shoes by the front door, and deposited her keys on the hook. As she walked through the house, she shed the layers that protected her from the Vermont winter. Her pullover unceremoniously draped on the back of the couch, followed by her red sweater. When she reached the kitchen, she was in a t-shirt and jeans, rubbing her arms as she opened the fridge to look inside. Someone had to go grocery shopping; she was the only one at home. Her grandma was at the bingo hall, and even though she could ask her to pick up milk, she wouldn’t. Seeing as they only had one car, there was nothing to do about it until her dad came home, but the closest convenience store would be closed when he came home. It wasn’t like they needed milk, but Ronnie craved cereal and did not want to eat a bowl full of dry Corn Chex. There was leftover Chinese takeout, but all that was left was shrimp, and she wasn’t in the mood for something left in the fridge for three days. But beggars can’t be choosers. Once her paycheck from Snow Dome came in, she would knock out the grocery shopping on her to-do list. Her father never once asked her to take care of the grocery shopping, but it was the least she could do with everything on his plate.

She put the shrimp in the microwave and pulled out sweet chili sauce to at least mask its current flavor. While it was reheated, she went over to check on Scout’s water and kibble. The wall between the kitchen and living room had been removed to create an open floor plan. Scout watched her curiously from the couch. He tilted his head, and his ears perked up. His bowl was half-empty, and she wouldn’t have to feed him for another hour or two. Once she was done reheating the shrimp in the microwave, she sat cross-legged on the couch, her laptop open in front of her. She was working on a new song. It had a poppy sound that matched that of Boyquake. Some of her older co-workers would play their songs during shifts. The melody was stuck in her head, and she couldn’t wait to get home to work on it, but she couldn’t just shut herself inside and write music all day. She had a social life. Granted, her only friends were Callie and Addison, but she couldn’t complain. So far, she was working on the instrumental accompaniment and trying to fit in the lyrics. The beat, at least for now, felt more like a love song to dance to. It is not a slow dance, but jumping around the dance floor. It wasn’t quite finished. She had been zeroing in on the lyrics for a couple of days, changing the instrumentals and moving stuff around. She was glad her grandma got her a new laptop for her birthday. Her old, clunky one would have exploded. Her new laptop made creating music more manageable. It didn’t freeze every time she deleted or added something. Her spiral-bound notebook lay open next to her. She scribbled down lyrics and crossed out old ones in black pen.

Thankfully, it was just the beginning of a new school semester, and her teachers were surprisingly laid back. Sophomore year was starting to look far better than Freshman year was. At least this time, she was walking into a new school year with friends who hadn’t abandoned her. She had her head held high, and nothing from her past would hold her back. Easier homework gave her more time to focus on her hobby. It might as well be the one thing that gets her into college. Music was her life force; over the years, she had written dozens of songs, some of which she performed and posted on her website. Ronnie may not be particularly famous, but that doesn't mean people don’t listen to her songs. Like a crazed animal, she periodically checked the stats of her videos and audio clips. Her dream may not have been to go to Hollywood to become a singer-songwriter, but she hoped that one day she would get noticed for the sake of helping her father. If her songs made her famous, he wouldn’t have to worry so much about his medical expenses or juggle between money for groceries or his medication. It wasn’t her father’s dream to be rich and famous. Both wanted it because at least everyone in America wanted to be like those celebrities in Los Angeles or Hollywood who could throw money at the problem without another thought. But, as far as dreams go, being famous was far out of reach, and it would take a miracle for someone to discover a teenager in Stowe, Vermont. For one, Vermont and California weren’t even remotely close to one another, and half the celebrities rising to fame were kids who happened to live in California from the get-go, went to auditions, or even practiced since birth for the role of a lifetime. As long as songwriting was a fun little hobby, fame was far out of reach. Some of her favorite songs played softly in the background, the bowl of shrimp half-eaten and forgotten on the coffee table as she typed away on her laptop, moving around and adding sounds to the recording platform. She hummed a broken tune as she worked. Scout lay on the other end of the sofa, his ears perked up occasionally, or he would lift his head but didn’t get up. His tail was tucked under his chin.

Sometime later in the evening, she abandoned her laptop and was sprawled across the couch watching a movie. The light on the porch was on, as well as the light in the kitchen, so that her grandma or her dad wouldn’t have to return to a dark home. Ronnie had changed into pajamas and draped a plush throw blanket over herself. She had bought it from Spencer’s forever before they closed up shop in the mall. It was on clearance and had Ghostface on it, so she had to have it. She was watching 10 Things I Hate About You. It was a cute movie, and she had already watched the trio of Scream movies too many times to count. It was nowhere near Halloween, and the last time she watched a scary movie in the dark, her grandma nearly had a heart attack when she went to get a glass of water. Her phone buzzed on the coffee table, but she made no move to grab it. It was only a text notification. It couldn’t be that important unless they started calling her. Unlike Callie, she couldn’t afford the fancy Apple iPhone 4. The front door opened, and she glanced away from the screen, reaching for the remote control to pause the movie or lower the volume.

“You refuse to read Shakespeare, but you watch this?” Her grandma shuffled into the room. She looked young for her age. Her skin was loose and still sagged because it lost elasticity with age, but her face was young. The small bathroom was littered with her skin care products.

“Grammy, I’m not going to read Shakespeare. I don’t need to read his work to understand the movie.” Ronnie moved the blanket, surmising she was sitting on the remote.

“Of course you don’t.” The old woman sighed and shredded her warm and fuzzy coat. The seasons were changing quickly outside. It seemed like just yesterday the weather was warm and sunny. “Did you have a good time at school? I assume you were at the mall with your girlfriends.”

“Yes, I was at the mall.” Ronnie leaned against the back of the couch. “Oh, I finished the last of the Chinese takeout.”

“Good, I wasn’t looking forward to taking it out.” She said, opening the fridge and bending down slightly. “Luckily though, Roger offered me dinner after bingo.”

“Ooh!” Ronnie cooed, her eyes sparkled. “Did he take you on a date?”

“It wasn’t a date.” Her grandma rolled her eyes and grabbed the iced coffee from the top shelf. “He’s a decent man, but I’m not seeking another romance. No one can replace Jimmy.”

“No one can replace Grandpa, but Roger likes you!” Ronnie hopped off the couch, Scout following suit and wagging his tail with a slobbery grin.

“Aren’t you a little too young to be meddling in the love lives of your elders? You should worry about your teenage love life.”

“Overrated.” Ronnie poked her head into the fridge and grabbed the half-empty 2-liter cola. “I’d rather focus on helping Dad and you.”

“Kiddo,” her grandma chastised, giving her a pointed look. “The only job you have is to go to school and get good grades.”

Ronnie focused on pouring her soda.

“Veronica.” Her grandma raised a brow. “You do know we don’t need you to help us, right?” She put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “All you have to do is focus on being seventeen, okay?”

Ronnie froze in the middle of putting the cap back on the bottle. She stared at the counter like a deer in headlights.

“I’ll—" Her grandma cleared her throat. I’ll change into jammies, make some popcorn, and start the movie from the beginning when I get back.” She didn’t wait for her to process what she said before disappearing down the hall into her room.

Ronnie stood in the kitchen. The 2-liter wobbled in her hands. She knew they didn’t need her help. She wanted to provide that help because they were the only family she had left. Haphazardly putting the bottle back, she knocked over her father’s favorite pickles container. The side of the container cracked, and pickle juice leaked onto the floor. Ronnie shuffled away, not too keen on getting her socks wet. Grabbing a handful of paper towels, she bent down and started wiping at the growing puddle. Taking the pickle container, she put it on the counter and grabbed more paper towels to clean up the sides of the container. In a panicked state, she was rushing around the kitchen to clean the mess she made. She accidentally slipped on the paper towels on the floor, which she had neglected to pick up. Her arms shot out to grab at the counter, but it was just out of grasp, so she fell on the floor. The back of her head smacked against the hardwood, and she scrunched her face up. Carefully, she touched the sore spot on the back of her head. It looked like she wasn’t going to be sleeping for a while.

When her grandma returned to the kitchen wearing the fuzzy pajamas Ronnie had gifted her for Christmas three years ago, she was surprised to find they still fit. She was startled to see her granddaughter on the floor. Ronnie got to her feet with her help and rubbed the back of her head again, wincing.

“Go sit on the couch, and I’ll clean up here.” Her grandma ushered her away gently. Scout circled her feet, worried. He whined softly.

Ronnie wrapped the plush Ghostface around her shoulders and pulled her knees to her chest. Of course, she messed up something so quickly. If it weren’t for her being so clumsy, her grandma wouldn’t have to clean up her messes. She pouted as she rewound the movie on television. Her head was throbbing, but she didn’t say anything about it. The last thing she needed was for her grandma to think she had a concussion. It was bad enough that she was so accident-prone.

“Is that a young Heath Ledger I spy?” Her grandma called from across the room. She put the bag of popcorn in the microwave. She clicked her tongue and shook her head. “He was taken from us too soon,”

“He’s the guy that played Joker, right?” Ronnie turned around. “In that movie with Christian Bale?”

“Your father says he played a phenomenal Joker.” Her grandma chuckled. “He said it was one of his favorite performances next to Adam West’s Batman.”

“Adam West?” Ronnie furrowed her brows. “Ugh, is he one of your old-school actors?”

“He was so handsome,” her grandma sighed wistfully.

Ronnie pretended to gag and turned around. The movie was fully rewound, and she paused it just as it started.

“Oh, you should have seen Adam West back then.”

“When? Dinosaur time?” Ronnie snickered.

“How old do you think I am?” Her grandma squawked, playfully smacking Ronnie’s upper arm once she sat down.

“Older than dirt.” Ronnie was parroting what her mom would say about herself. There was a flash of remorse in her grandmother’s eyes before she took a handful of popcorn from the metal bowl on the coffee table.

“Okay, okay. Play the movie.”

Ronnie fell asleep halfway through the movie. She leaned her head on her grandma’s shoulder. When the movie ended, she moved Ronnie into a more comfortable position, taking the blanket off the back of the couch and draping it over her. Cleaning up the coffee table, she noticed her spiral-bound notebook lying open. Curiously, she stole a sneak peek. Both she and her father were supportive of Ronnie’s hobbies. Her grandma was under the impression she was underselling herself and could go places if she outsourced and marketed herself properly. When she was asleep at night, her grandma and her father would listen to her music as they did the dishes or cleaned up. While she was washing the dishes in the sink, her father came home. He hobbled in like a zombie with an iced coffee from a gas station in his hand.

“Your daughter has a talent.” Her grandma rinsed the soapy suds off the metal bowl. “I don’t understand why she doesn’t want to do anything with it.”

“She’s a kid. I hardly think she cares.” Her father stifled a yawn, setting the iced coffee down on the counter. “I’m guessing I missed something,”

“Not necessarily. She’s working on new music.”

“You’ve been snooping again…”

“I can’t help it, James. She doesn’t share anything with me anymore.” The old woman shut the sink off. Her voice rose slightly.

“Mom, Ronnie’s a teenager, and teenagers… they– they hide stuff from their parents and defy authority.”

“That was your sister. She is so much better than your sister.”

“Mom,”

“What? You know what your sister was like! She made you come home from the army.”

That wasn’t just–” James pinched the bridge of his nose. “If Ronnie wants–”

“Veronica.” Her grandma corrected.

“If she wants to share something with you, she will.” He continued. “You have to let her come to you.”

“Have you been listening to those stupid parenting books?” She rolled her eyes. “At least you have to admit, things would be easier if she became famous for her music.”

“Mom.”

“Okay, okay. I admit I overstepped.” She dried her hands on the towel hanging from the stove handle. “But you can’t stand there and tell me you haven’t thought about it.”

“I haven’t,” James said unfazed. “Because she doesn’t want fame.”

“Oh, please. She’s just saying that because she’s modest.”

“I have a feeling that you did something,”

“Who, me? When have I ever done anything?”

“Goodnight, Mom.” James sighed heavily.

Ronnie wasn’t necessarily invisible to the student body. While Addison hung out with the cheerleading team and Callie spent time with the goth kids, Ronnie was kind of alone. It wasn’t like she hadn’t made an effort to befriend people, but many of the kids in her grade had transferred from the same middle school as her, so there was no way she could convince any of them she didn’t grow up to be even weirder than before. Instead of going to lunch and sitting alone at a table, she hid in the music room for the next thirty minutes. Music was her livelihood. When she was upset, she listened to sad songs. She would pull up some music to decipher her thoughts and feelings when she didn't know what she felt. Music was her way of venting out her frustrations. Other people had sports or even took it out on others, but Ronnie had songwriting. She shut herself in one of the practice rooms after grabbing the key from their band director. Pulling out her laptop to set up everything, she opened the song she was working on last night. Then, something popped into her head. Waiting for the application to save, she figured she would sing a song for fun instead of working on the incomplete one.

Scrolling through her extensive library of MP3 files, she landed on Boom Boom Pow by The Black Eyed Peas. It would make a fun warm, but then she noticed Don’t Trust Me by 3OH!3. Although she may not need something to psych her up with so much energy, its high beat and catchy tune were irresistible. As the song filled the room, playing loudly from her laptop speakers, she wanted to get up and move around. Thankfully, the soundproofing kept others from hearing what she was dancing to, but there was a sliver of a window on the door. Unbeknownst to her, a boy in the hallway stopped to look at her. He wasn’t sure if he was mesmerized or perplexed. He had a guitar case with him. They both had the same idea: ditch the cafeteria and hide in the practice rooms. Ronnie didn’t notice him until she turned around and screamed. She almost knocked over her laptop, balancing unsteadily on a music stand. She froze like a deer in headlights, and her face turned red. She was beyond embarrassed and had no idea if this boy would run off to tell someone the weirdo they grew up with was weirder than before. He ran away when she noticed him, leaving his guitar case behind. She quickly gathered her things and left the key on the chair in the practice room. Fast walking to the closest stairwell, she climbed two stairs at a time to get to her next class.

The end of the day rolled around, and Ronnie pushed past other students to get out of school as fast as possible. She needed to reach Snow Dome before anyone noticed her. Her heart was pounding as she fast-walked to her after-school job. It was pretty far, and she would be dripping with sweat by the time she got there, but she didn’t want to risk someone pointing her out and making fun of her. Going unnoticed was far better than being made fun of. Panting and heaving to catch her breath, she leaned on the door and pushed it open. Her co-workers lifted their heads, and all three had wide grins. Wayne leaned against the counter, idly chewing on grum. He pouted when he saw her. He was only a couple of years older than her and attending college part-time.

“School wasn’t fun?”

“No, no. It– was– fine.” She spoke between deep breaths. “Just excited to work.” She mustered an uneasy smile.

“If anyone bothers you, they have to answer us.” Jordin slid next to her and handed her a handkerchief. “You know that, right?” He furrowed his brows.

“Don’t treat me like a baby.” Ronnie frowned but took the handkerchief from him, muttering a small thank you.

“Your song was on the radio,” Cassidy said as she joined Wayne behind the rental skate counter. “I didn’t know you had the guts to put yourself out there.”

“What?” Ronnie’s eyes widened. “How did– Which song?”

“It didn’t have a title. All they said was that it was their local songwriter spotlight.” Cassidy shrugged. “Did you not title your songs?”

“No. I don’t title them because I never wanted to put them on the radio.”

“Well, someone did,” Jordin crossed his arms and puffed out his chest.

“Babydoll, stop pretending you’re man enough to beat someone up.” Wayne rolled his eyes. “Senseless violence isn’t a good look on you.”

“It’s also extremely out of character, dear brother.” Cassidy snickered.

“Oh, shove a sock in your pie hole.” Jordin stuck his tongue out.

“Did any of you put my song on the radio?” Ronnie asked. The three of them shook their heads.

“Who has access to your music?” Cassidy asked.

“There’s Callie, Addison, my dad, and my… grandma. But she couldn’t have taken one of my songs and put them on the radio, could she?”

“Who knows? You’d have to be close to someone running the station in that regard.” Jordin scratched the back of his neck. “I can’t beat up your grandma…” He said quietly under his breath.

“I don’t want you to beat up my grandma anyway.” Ronnie elbowed him. “It’s whatever. I’ll ask her about it later tonight.”

“It was a good song,” Wayne said under his breath when Cassidy and Jordin left to complete their tasks.

“Really?” Ronnie sounded too hopeful, but she couldn’t help it. She’d been waiting for some sort of praise on her work.

“Yeah, it could be like… I don’t know, a new pop hit…” Wayne shrugged, looking away and coughing into his hand. “Go through the lockers, yeah?” He handed her the keys.

“Thanks, Wayne!” Ronnie chirped, bounding off with a spring in her step towards the lockers.

Whenever people came to Snow Dome, they were always the most forgetful of their items in the lockers. The dark blue lockers were tucked away in the back corner beside the bleachers. At the end of the week, there was a high school hockey game, and everyone was working to get the rink ready for the students to play. It was tedious to unlock all the lockers, but she only started unlocking them in case she closed them if she didn’t find anything. Usually, people left hats, gloves, scarves, and occasionally a watch. Ronnie pulled over the lost and found cart and started dropping the items inside. It was relatively empty because Snow Dome had re-opened before the new school year began. When work was slow, the employees could slack off until it was officially closing time. Ronnie used that time to improve at ice skating, but only if all her tasks were complete. Today was a slow day. By the closing time, her feet were aching, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into her bed and sleep. Thankfully, the bus was still running, so she didn’t have to ask her coworkers for a ride home. They were always nice about it, but she didn’t want to keep relying on them. Even though she had her license, her family only had one car. She didn’t mind riding the bus, nor did her grandma, but sometimes she wished she had a car. She wanted the freedom to drive wherever she wanted.

The porch light was on, and she was sure her grandma was home. Pulling her keys out of the lock as she pushed the door open, Scout ran up to her happily, jumping on her and trying to lick her face.

“Oh, I didn’t see a car in the driveway. I thought someone was going to drop you off?”

“Nah, I took the bus.” Ronnie pulled off her shoes and left them by the door, closing it as she stepped inside.

“How was school?”

“I have something to ask you,”

“Of course, honey, you can ask me anything.” Her grandma said in an overtly sweet voice.

“Did– Did you ask Marta to put my song on the radio.”

Her grandma’s face fell.

“You found out about that?”

“So, you did!” Ronnie exclaimed, throwing her arms out.

“I only did because you have so much talent that you’re wasting. Don’t tell me Snow Dome is where you want to work for the rest of your life!”

“That doesn’t matter. Songwriting is just a silly hobby!”

“It doesn’t have to be just a hobby. You could get discovered by some big-name producer and–”

“I don’t want to be famous!” Ronnie snapped. “Don’t you get it? I like my life now, and being famous would ruin that.”

“Honey–”

“No! Dad is the only one who understands that it’s an outlet for me!”

Ronni didn’t give her grandma room to respond. She stomped off to her room and slammed the door shut. Her grandma jumped when one of the photos came off the wall from the force. Hesitantly, she picked up the frame and was glad to find the glass only cracked. She was holding a family portrait. It was taken before Ronnie’s mother died. Caressing her thumb over the photo, she sighed and sat at the dining table. Scout whined and put his chin on her thigh, looking at her with big, sad eyes.

“Don’t look at me like that. She needs to get out of here, and this might be her only way how.”

It wasn’t like the dog would understand what she was saying, but somehow, Scout seemed to understand. He wagged his tail and perked up, smiling up at her. All she wanted was for her granddaughter to escape this nothing town and start new.