Page 17 of Take My Crown

Girls are practically swooning as Declan picks up his guitar and comes to sit next to me at the back.

“Hi,” he whispers to me and I turn to see his face super close to mine. His brown eyes almost have streaks of green and blue in them, like a paintbrush has lightly skimmed those colours across his eyes. “Good to see a new face to brighten up the place.”

I am about to reply when Mr Metcalf calls my name.

“And our disruptive newcomer must be Ivy Archaic.”

I feel my face go an even deeper red than before as everyone turns in their seats to stare at me.

“Y-yes. That’s me,” I say, clearing my throat. “Sorry. I got lost.”

“Well, see that it doesn’t happen again.” He tuts disapprovingly. “We have a lot to get through and if you’re late again, I will request you leave the class so as not to disturb the more dedicated students. Be more organised in the future.”

“Yes, sir.” I slide down in my chair, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole as some of the other students laugh at my misfortune.

“Now, it is my understanding that you have already done some study for this course. Is that right, Ivy?” he asks.

“Yes,” I reply. “I was doing an online course before I came to the Academy.”

“Hmmm.” It is clear Mr Metcalf is less than impressed by the concept of online tuition. “I think you’ll find my standards are a little more rigorous than some internet teachers. I warn you now, if you cannot keep up, you’ll need to transfer to an easier subject. I don’t tolerate any slacking off in my class. So I think it best that you show me what you’ve got. If you’re not good enough to be here, it’s better we all know now so we don’t waste anyone’s time, wouldn’t you agree?”

“I guess.” I was beginning to regret not choosing art.

“So come on up. We’ve been working on original compositions. I would like to hear something of yours.”

“But I didn’t bring my guitar,” I confess.

“You can borrow mine,” Declan offers, holding it out to me with curious eyes. “Show me what you got, new girl.”

“There you go, Miss Archaic. You have no excuse. Let’s see whether you are good enough to be one of my students.”

Taking Declan’s guitar with a grateful smile, I make my way to the front of the class and sit where he had been sitting. I strum a couple of random chords to get a feel for his instrument while I debate what to sing. Something tells me this is the toughest audience I would ever face and right now all of my songs seem utterly inadequate.

“Come on, Ivy. We haven’t got all day,” barks Mr Metcalf. “There’s the door if you’d prefer to give up now.”

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and let my fingers run over the strings in a complicated melody. This is a song which always got a good reaction whenever I performed it–it sounds way more impressive than it actually is. Years of practise means it is very easy to play, but to the untrained ear, it sounds like I was pretty damn good.

The complex accompaniment is offset by a relatively simple tune which showcases the best of my vocal ability. I don’t have the biggest range, but I know how to work with what I had.

Swaying, I lost myself in words which had been inspired by the fear I felt knowing I wouldn’t be in the care system for much longer and would have to take responsibility for my own life. Most people thought I was singing about a boy who’d broken my heart, but it’s about me.

“You say we should fly away

When my heart tells me I should stay

And now I’m on my own, pretending I’m alright.

You say I will be okay.

That I will always find the best way,

And I suppose that you are right.

Now I’m on my own tonight.”

When I finish, I wince as I open my eyes, bracing myself for Mr Metcalf’s reaction.

“Not bad,” he conceded. “Perhaps you have some promise tucked away underneath all that pretension.”

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