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J A C K
I stared at the paper in front of me, the melody repeatedly playing through my mind. I'd heard some girl singing along to this tune in the mess hall a few days ago, but by the time I went in to see who it was and tell her how good she sounded - which yes, I know is rare coming from me - she was gone. It's been bothering me since, but I haven't even given myself the chance to meet the girls here to see know who it was.
The door opening caused me to look up from my spot. I was originally in my cabin, but there were other guys in there, along with the girl I'd had the sarcastic conversation with. The one that Zach likes. It was just too public for me to look at this sheet, to think about the lyrics I'd heard and the melody. I needed to be alone, so I came to the first empty cabin I saw.
It was my uncle Brown, who walked toward me and took a seat next to me. He didn't seem as mad at me as he'd been in our previous talks, which caused the tiniest part of me to feel relieved.
"That's cool, like your old stuff." He commented, motioning to the song in front of me.
"W-well, I mean-"
"I know, I know. Just because it's like your old stuff doesn't mean you have to give it to me. I just really miss you writing some of the music for me, you know? You've written plenty of music, good music at that. Not the usual cookie-cutter pop star stuff you hear all the time on the radio." He cut me off.
"I haven't written in ages," I admitted. "This is just something I heard a girl singing, I didn't even write it, but it makes me want to write again for some odd reason."
"Well, just know if there is by chance you write again, I will always be here. I wanted to ask you about something, anyway." He spoke, his tone more serious than before. "I know you hate being here, and such. I know you're not an actual superstar, but most people here do consider you the next best thing. You've written plenty of music, and I know you've heard of my managers and staff and they would be able to help you-"
"I've already told you I didn't want to use you to become famous, or to be famous in general." I cut him off this time.
"For a boy who loves the popularity, loves the limelight, you're so quick to deny becoming an actual celebrity." Brown sent me a look.
"Look, I denied you years ago before I became popular at school, even. I'm already known for being my parents' kid. That's the only reason I'm popular. I don't want to be known as the boy who is only famous because of his family," I began. "There's more to me than just- money, popularity or whatever."
Brown sent me another look, this one completely different than the last. It's because he wasn't expecting me to open up to him the way I just did, I hardly have ever opened up to anyone like this. I haven't, now that I think about it.
"You have potential, talent. You hear your songs on the radio all the time." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"They're not mine, and it's not all the time." I turned back to the sheet in front of me.
