A minute of music

ZING

I jolted upright in my bed.

BWAAAAANG. TING. KRRRSHHH.

I stared at the ceiling.

There was a pause then

BZZZZZZT

I closed my eyes. Inhaled. Exhaled. And seriously considered whether getting into a fight on the second day was a realistic possibility.

“LUCAS I SWEAR”

Another noise erupted from the other side of the room. It sounded like a dying robot being dragged down a flight of stairs while a spaceship exploded in the background.

“LUCAS”

“What?” he called back, unnervingly calm.

ZWISH.

I threw my blanket off and scrambled out of bed.

He glanced over his shoulder from his keyboard, one hand hovering over the keys, the other twisting a knob on some device that looked suspiciously close to a NASA device.

“It’s a new sound.”

He pressed another key.

BWOOOOP.

“Oh that ones interesting,” he grinned.

I strutted over angrily, pointing my hand to the keyboard. “Turn it off now.”

He laughed and played another combination of notes. This time more melodic, still awful.

I snatched a pillow from my bed.

“I’m warning you.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that I am approximately three seconds away from introducing your keyboard to the floor.”

“You wouldnt dare.”

“Try me.”

I hate it. I hate his stupid little keyboard, his awful little combinations of random chords that barely work. To be specific, I hate him. Most of all, I hate that I had absolutely no idea how to get rid of him.

Because yesterday, I had never even met Lucas Beaumont.

And somehow, he had become my roommate. Which was impressive, considering I hadn’t knowingly agreed to live with a boy.

Before my first week at Sonesta International Music Academy had even begun, we’d have to go back to yesterday.

To the email.

In my defense, just as I was trying to shove approximately 19 years’ worth of clothes into a suitcase that was clearly not made for it, then suddenly I just felt the need to just check my email because I might be missing something. Must of been divine intervention because I saw a very important email floating around in my mailbox.

“SONESTA INTERNATIONAL MUSIC ACADEMY — HOUSING PLACEMENT”

I opened it with the hope that whatever was in this email wasn’t too important because if it was I would be in a sticky situation.

“Congratulations on your admission to Sonesta International Music Academy.

As part of our student housing program, incoming students may select a preferred roommate from the approved list below. Please review your selection carefully. Once housing assignments have been finalized, changes will be subject to availability and administrative approval.:”

Blah, blah, blah.

I just skipped the rest in a rush. There was a couple names, a small picture. I wasn’t particularly worried about anything. I just wanted to get it done.

I scrolled through the list quickly until I saw a pretty name. I thought to myself, “Yeah, Lucy is a pretty name. Lucy would do.”

I tapped the name while multitasking.

“ROOMMATE PLACEMENT SAVED.”

Relieved, I set my phone aside and returned to the considerably more pressing problem of fitting 500 million clothes in this suitcase.

I didn’t recheck the file. I didn’t try and find my roommate. I didn’t check the details.

By the time I arrived at Sonesta, after years of practicing until my fingers peeled, of listening to compositions until every note could be replicated, of reciting music so precisely that even the smallest mistake bothered me, my hard work got me here.

I skipped my way to my dorm, holding my big heavy suitcase in one hand and the room card the receptionist gave me when I entered in the other.

I made my way down the corridor. There were so many new students in Crescendo Hall. I was so excited.

Finally!

After a little while of walking (I got lost twice), I finally made it.

Room 141.

I swiped my card and pushed the door open.

“Hello?” I called, wheeling my suitcase inside. “Lucy? I’m your roommate!”

No answer. Ok fairs.

I stepped farther into the room, looking at the two beds, the amps and brand new leads.

Oh god, I’m in heaven, I thought.

Then a deep voice came from near the window.

“Hey, are you the guitarist?”

I smiled and turned toward it.

“Yes! And you must be—”

My soul sank. That was not a female but a boy. An entire boy. In my room. My room.

I grabbed the first thing within reach, a heavy music theory textbook I’d shoved into the front pocket of my bag, and held it up with both hands.

He stared at the textbook.

Then at me.

“Uh. Hi?”

I screamed.

He screamed.

I swung.

He ducked so quickly that the textbook sailed over his head and smacked against the closet door.

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?” he shouted.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY ROOM?”

“YOUR ROOM?” I yelled as I flashed my room card

“YES, MY ROOM!”

He pointed at the bed behind him. “THIS IS MY DORM, ROOM 141”

“YOUR NOT A GIRL MY ROOMATE IS LUCY”

He looked at me and started belly laughing.

“Lucas not Lucy my name is Lucas.”

“Oh, my God.”

He nodded, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. “You Misread the name didn’t you, you though I was lucy,” he questioned in a hearty chuckle.

I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

“I hate this school already,” I whispered.

That only made him laugh harder.

A woman in a navy-blue blazer stood in the doorway, holding a clipboard. Her smile was polite, professional, and completely terrifying.

“Good. You’re both here.”

I frowned. “Both?”

She glanced between Lucas and me. ” On the behalf of the school I apologize There’s been a small administrative error with your housing assignments. Females should not be select males to dorm with. Unfortunately, all the other rooms are occupied, and there’s no time to arrange a transfer. ”

My stomach dropped.

“No,” I said immediately.

Lucas leaned against his keyboard, still with that Aggravating grin. “You haven’t even heard the solution yet.”

I turned to him. “Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

The woman cleared her throat. “You’ll be sharing this room for the foreseeable future. I f a new student Is admitted to the school or another student is removed from campus then the arrangement can be reviewed but until then I trust you’ll both make the best of this situation I apologize once again”

She handed us a sheet of paper, gave us one last smile, and walked away.

I stared at the assignment.

Then at Lucas.

Then back at the assignment.

ROOMMATES: LUCAS BEAUMONT, ZEOLA WISE

I snatched up my suitcase. “Touch one of my things, and I will personally make sure you never See the light of day again.”

He grinned. “we’re going to get along just fine.”

Back to the present, he is so annoying. He is always playing around and making noise on that weird little keyboard of his.

A series of loud, violent notes filled the room.

I whipped around. “ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

“What?” He continued playing. “I’m creating.”

“You’re creating a absolute rubish!”

“Art is subjective.”

My phone buzzed before I could give him a piece of my mind.

An email from Sonesta International Music Academy.

SUBJECT: IMPORTANT — FIRST-YEAR PERFORMANCE ANNOUNCEMENT

Finally. Something useful.

I opened it, expecting a schedule or perhaps a welcome message. Instead, a polished announcement filled my screen.

Welcome to Sonesta International Music Academy.

As part of our commitment to nurturing exceptional musical talent, all first-year students will participate in the annual Rising Stars Showcase. All students will be randomly selected, students that play different instruments forming a band, and will be performing original compositions before our faculty, visiting industry professionals, and the entire student body to prove you have what it takes to attend this school.

Original compositions?

Now, thats interesting.

Assigned genre of each groups compositions will be announced at tomorrow’s opening assembly. Participation is mandatory for all first year students.

I tapped the attached document and it opened, displaying a long list of names. I skimmed through the groups, searching for mine.

GROUP 1.

Not me.

GROUP 2.

Still not me.

GROUP 3.

Nope.

I kept scrolling until I finally found it.

GROUP 4

ZEOLA WISE-Guitar

Healyn Jung-Bass Guitar

Milo Lewis-Drummer

Juila Mariano-Singer

I smiled.

Then I read the line beneath the last name.

Lucas Beaumont-keyboardist

My smile disappeared.

I blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Then I read it again, just in case the letters had rearranged themselves out of pity.

“No,” I whispered.

Lucas glanced over. “No what?”

I slowly turned my phone toward him.

His eyes flicked over the screen.

For one brief moment, he looked surprised.

Then his mouth waivered into the most upsetting grin I’d ever seen.

“Well,” he said, “look at that. I guess you stuck with me for the rest of the year.”

What do you think will happen when they have to perform together?”