Face the Music (2 page)

My p
hone buzzed.  Two missed calls
and a text
, both from days earlier.  Would I ever get a message on time?
  I really needed to stop by
the store and talk to someone, but with the jam-packed schedule I kept, getting my phone fixed was low on the list of priorities.

Though my schedule was demanding, the days weren’t necessarily exciting.  At the age of twenty-four, my life was a series of perfectly planned routines:  get up around six, go out to the kitchen, flip on the under-the-counter radio, and sip a cup of coffee while I checked my email before getting ready for work.

Life was expensive, and it was hard to make ends meet. 
My younger sister
Emily
and I, along with her four-year-old daughter, Molly, shared a small, two bedroom apartment in the West Loop neighborhood of Chicago.  It wasn’t much, but we were comfortable.  Along with the bedrooms, the apartment had a spacious bathroom, a kitchen, and a cozy living room.  The
taupe colored
walls were dotted w
ith pictures of loved ones: 
Molly as a baby, dressed in a blue and
white polka-dotted dress,
Emily’s h
igh school graduation picture,
Grams and
Gramps on their
thirty-fifth wedding anniversary
, a
nd a
snapshot
of mom that was taken just a month before she died.
  That last one was hard for me to look at.

I had to tip-toe around all of
Molly’s
toys to get out the door.  They
were scattered
everywhere
. 
Some days
I wondered if ‘kid’ was synonymous with ‘slob’
.

After college, I got a job teaching Biology to tenth
graders.  It was a lot of fun
but didn’t pay enough for me to make
all
my bills, so I gave it up after only a year. 
But
I loved teaching
, so I went back to school and was working on my Ph.D.
 
I also
spent time
assisting my advising professor
and tutored
the
younger contestants
behind the scenes of
Superstardom
.

This was the show’s first season and
,
so far
,
had been number one in its Monday night slot every week since its premiere.  The premise wasn’t all that original- talented musicians competing each week
,
hoping to earn the title
Superstar
, a check for a million bucks, and a big-label recording contract that would launch their careers in the music industry.  Originally criticized as being a spinoff of
American Idol
, critics quickly came to see that
Superstardom
was much more.  While
Idol
focused exclusively on vocal abilities,
Superstardom
expanded the idea by demanding additional talents.  Contestants were in charge of all aspects of their performance.  Everything from the song choice and arrangement to the stage lights and costumes were up to their discretion, giving the judges a more complete picture of the contestants’ abilities as entertainers.

A devoted fan of the original talent-search show, I never dreamed that I’d get the opportunity to actually work for one.  Let’s just say that one of my friends knew someone who knew someone else that was looking for someone qualified enough to fill the position.  Lucky for me, I had the necessary credentials. 

I had five students; two sixteen year-old girls, Riley and Sabrina; seventeen year-old Melody; and two boys, fifteen year-old Jimmy, and seventeen-year-old Sam.  The law required that they be schooled even while competing in Chicago, but since they couldn’t attend their regular institutions, they were stuck with me, Monday through Friday, from
eight until noon.  After lunch
they met with voice coaches, and their evenings were spent working one-on-one with the band and choreographers.  This schedule was strictly followed five days a week.  The
high-school aged contestants
had to keep a much tighter routine than the
ir adult counterparts
, who, not having to attend class every day, had more freedom in scheduling their practice times.

I taught the basics- English,
Literature,
Math, and Science, and had a fun day planned.  We’d spent the last few days working on professional writing and experimental procedures, and I was going to integrate the two by letting the kids design and perform an experiment of their choice and organize their findings into a formal report.

The kids worked hard all morning.  I was at my desk, skimming through a chapter on quadratic equations (it had been years since I’d had to solve those types of problems), when a frustrated sigh caught my attention.  Sam was at a computer, struggling with formatting a graph.  “I can’t figure out how to set it up,” he complained, leaning forward and squinting against
the small font on the screen.

Sam was a typical California kid; tall and tanned with sandy blonde hair that often hung in his face.  He had a crooked smile and a great sense of humor, and though I tried not to have favorites among my students, he was just too easy to like.

I groaned and slammed my book shut.  Making a big show about having to get up out of my chair, I leaned back, stretched my arms above my head, and twisted
my torso
from side-to-side.  This was one thing I loved about my job- teasing these kids.  I got to know them well, and we really enjoyed an informal, friendly relationship. 

I made it about halfway across the room but stopped short when I saw Chris Knots, the very man of my dreams- literally, leaning against the frame of the classroom doorway.  He was dressed in an old Metallica t-shirt and a pair of faded blue jeans, but he wore it well.  Any coherent thoughts I might have had raced from my mind as our eyes locked.

This wasn’t the first time I’d seen him in person- we’d walked past each other in the hallway a few times, and once I even had the good fortune of standing behind him in line at the
studio’s
snack bar.  He was usually in a hurry, talking to someone, or deep in thought, and never so much as looked at me before, but I didn’t really expect much different.  He was a star.  I was just, well, me. 

Not blessed with the gift of being overly witty or funny, I struggled at making conversation outside the classroom.  Emily enjoyed teasing me for being so serious and working too much.  I tried to loosen up, but it was awkward for me, and I usually ended up saying something stupid and
feeling
silly.

Nevertheless, I fought for control as he ran those enchanting dark eyes over me, and I found myself wishing that I had taken the time to do something more with my hair.  It was piled up on top of my head in a messy knot, a style I was all too familiar with.  I usually didn’t see the point in fixing it up.  Hoping that it hadn’t completely fallen to shambles, I reached up and tucked a few loose
auburn
strands behind my ear.

“Hi, can I help you?”  My racing heart and
sweaty palms
made appearing normal difficult, but I manag
ed to speak with an even tone.

“I need to talk to Sam,” he said smoothly,
glancing
in Sam’s direction, “but I can see he’s busy, so I’ll just hang out here until you release him- if that’s okay.”  He looked at me expec
tantly, arching a thick eyebrow.

My eyes were drawn to his mouth.  A dark soul patch served well in accentuating his full, kissable lips.  Lips I couldn’t take my eyes off of.

“Um
, yeah, of course,” I stuttered after finding my voice.

I couldn’t believe myself.  Here I was, a college graduate student, feeling like a giddy schoolgirl.  My heart was up in my throat.  “You’re more than welcome to come in, if you want.”  I nodded towards an empty desk.

“I’m fine here.  Thanks
,
though.”  He flashed me one of his heart-throbbing
smiles, making my heart lurch inside my chest.

Eager to escape the awkwardness, I shrugged and started to walk away when he offered his hand.  Sam turned and looked at him, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Chris grin and wink. 

He returned his attention to me.  “I’m Chris, by the way.  Chris Knots.  I don’t think we’ve met.” 

His grip was strong and warm.  An involuntary shudder rocked my insides.  “I know.” 

The heat rose in my face when I realized what I had said.  “I mean, yeah, everyone knows you!” 

The giggles of eavesdroppers erupted in the room, but I did my best to ignore them.

He eyed me curiously and grinned.  “You must be Miss Banks?”

My mind was working in slow motion.  I heard him but was so focused on his impeccable mouth that it didn’t immediately register that I was supposed to respond.  “Oh!  Yeah, of course,” I stammered.  “I’m Miss Banks.  Actually, Allison, but please, call me Allie, everyone else does.  Well, except them.”  I gestured to the kids.  “They call me Miss Banks.”  My blush deepened. 
Keep it together
, you blubbering fool!
 

He looked like he was trying to hold back a laugh.  I hated that I was so flustered, especially in front of the kids.  Remembering that Sam was still waiting for me, I told Chris he was welcome to wait and then excused myself.

I knelt next to Sam and took the mouse.  Chris’s presence filled the room,
distracting me
.  I had to force myself to concentrate on what I was doing.  “Let me see.  This new Excel is so different from the old version.”  It took me a long minute
to
find the right menu.  “Here we go.  Your dependent variable goes on the y-axis,” I instructed, dragging the cursor along.  “And the independent variable goes on the x.  Does that help?”

Sam
studied the screen and then flipped through a black and white composition notebook.  “Yeah, thanks Miss Banks.”  A wrinkle of concentration blemished his brow. 

Melody raised her hand.  “I need help.”  She brushed her long black bangs out of her eyes and looked at me from the other side of the room.  Chris still stood in the doorway.

“Sorry honey, I don’t offer the ki
nd of help
you
need,” I teased and grinned
when she rolled her eyes.  Melody was by far the most mature of the group. 
The songs she
sang
always
had a
jazzy
sound
,
and
she
was well liked f
or the unusual raspiness in
her voice.  More of a loner, she kept to herself and preferred to sit away from the rest of the group.  I liked to give her a hard time about being so antisocial.  She didn’t seem to mind the attention.

After answering her question, I glanced at the clock.  It was a little past noon.  With Chris still lurking by the door, I felt self-conscious as I raised my voice to address the class.  “Listen up!  Your experimental designs are due at the beginning of class tomorrow, no exceptions.  If you didn’t finish, you’ll need to work on it tonight.  We won’t be spending any time on them in class tomorrow.”