XPLR | Colby Brock

~85~

The Phantom of the Opera is there... inside your mi- I sang the lyrics in my head, just as the word "mind" came, I shoved the keys down into a chord. Fortissimo.

"You're coming in too quickly," one of the guys said. He leaned over his red electric guitar, and he looked displeased with me. He's my age, nineteen or twenty maybe, and he just seemed to have an aura of authority to him. He probably loves music and wants to play in a band.

"Maybe it's because you're early, Logan," I said. It was true. We all come in at the same time, for the main part of the melody. He doesn't like me, he must have liked the other guy who played organ before me. There's maybe ten people in this little pit orchestra, and out of that me and a violinist are the only girls.

He wasn't from here. You can tell by his accent. It has a northern twang to it, Staten Island Maybe. Which just reminds me about how I still haven't made a decision on what I want to do about Juilliard.

"What's up?" He asked, "Your head isn't in the game like it should be."

I looked around the room at the others staring at us. I glanced back at him, and he raised his eyebrows and gave me a smirk. He was winning the power struggle.

Logan has a certain charm to him, a foreign charm, and he's good looking. His bright green eyes pierced me every time he looked at me, and his jaw is so sharp he could kill a man. He makes me forget about Colby for a moment. Only a moment.

"If there was something, it would a personal matter that doesn't concern you," I said, cutting my eyes at him so that he might let it go.

He leaned forward a bit more, gave me a smirk, and a bit of elevator eyes. "Then if it's really nothing, count your rests." He said with a nod.

That made me look away, back at my music. How dare he.

Mr. Ling had opted that my regular orchestra class be changed to real rehearsals for the Phantom of the Opera show debut. I didn't complain, orchestra had become boring in the last few months.

Though, before rehearsal began, Mr. Ling confessed to me something that made my heart stop.

"I got an email from a man, Gerald Brown. He asked me to get in contact with you. Miss Rose! Why hadn't you told me you got an offer from Juilliard?" He asked accusingly. I couldn't offer anything more than a hopeless shrug.

He huffed at that. "Is it the funds to move? Miss Rose, we can fundraise! I'm sure all the students at this school would love to have a fellow peer enroll at Juilliard," he said. "That's not it," I answered, "I just don't know if I want to go or not."

Mr. Ling gave me the most disappointed look I've ever seen him muster. "Why not? Rose, this is your chance to change your life as a musician," he said.

He was right. He is so right.

"I... I just have a lot over here. It's scary to make a decision so quickly. A decision that can change my life as I know it. That's the thing," I said as I glanced everywhere but his eyes, "My boyfriend just gave me a promise ring. He was talking about starting to save up money and buy a house just outside of Los Angeles," I said. "He... He has his dream job here. He really loves it, I don't think anyone can see him doing anything else. I know him, I know he loves me. He'll want to come with me, and that means taking him away from his job."

"And it's selfish of me to do that. So... I still have a few days to make my decision. I need to talk to him, but I already know what he'll say."

Mr. Ling surprisingly gave me an understanding nod. "You know, I've been in your position before," he said. "You have?"

"Yes. I was dating a pretty girl, back in China," he said. "Very pretty. Then I got my offer to Juilliard, to study overseas."

"What did you do?" I asked him. He gave me a pitiful look and said, "I knew my destiny lied with music, not her. So I left her and China."

I know what he wants me to do. But I still don't know what I want to do.

I snapped out of it when Logan snickered. "Ms. Rose," He said. "You missed a whole bar that time."

I pushed a loose strand of hair behind my ear and glanced over my music. "Sorry," was all I said. "You'll get the hang of it," he said. "We can't get mad at her. She's doing great for only having two weeks to do the show," he said, "We only have a few days left now."

I had even less of that now, and I still couldn't get the hang of that damn rests. It's just rests.

I glanced at my watch. Almost through for this half of the day. Then I'll go eat with Colby, and then I'll come back for orchestra. No big deal. But why am I so nervous?

Because I know that I'm only prolonging the inevitable.

We finished up for the day, and I started to put my music into my bag and slip it on my back. I took a sip of water and started towards the door after the rest of the pit orchestra, when I heard a whistle behind me. I looked back to see Logan waiting for me.

He was leaning against the wall, and he held a piece of paper out to me between two fingers. I scoffed at him. "What?" I asked. "It's my phone number," he said. "I have a boyfriend," I said.

He snickered and walked towards me, placing the piece of paper in my hoodie pocket. "I don't care. Ling told me about your Juilliard offer, Ms. Rose. That's where I live. When you get to New York, if you decide to, I'll help you get settled in." He said and strolled carelessly to the door. He didn't think I was looking, but just as he rounded the corner he glanced back at me. I reached into my pocket and looked at his phone number.

Call me when you get to the greatest city in the world, Ms. Rose. -Logan. It was written in, surprisingly, gorgeous cursive letters.

I sighed and took off my phone case, a clear one with the picture Colby and I took when we were at that abandoned train during Coachella under it, I folded the paper and slipped it under the case to join the photo.

I might need it one day.