chrysalism. n.
the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof like an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible but whose crackling release of built-up tension...
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Boston, Massachusetts. April 24th, 2017. Berklee College of Music, Jazz Studies. 1:35 PM.
Malone sat in the middle of the lecture hall, struggling to pay attention to the material on the board. Her mind kept racing with the thought of Tony Stark's email popping up on her screen at any moment. Well, she had convinced herself that Stark himself wouldn't send the email, more likely it would be one of his many employees. The more she thought about the things that would happen in the next six months, the less likely it seemed that the band would ever even meet Tony Stark or any of the Avengers for that matter. Her fingers rested on the keyboard but refused to type. She couldn't stop thinking about which songs Stark would pick for their setlist. Would they be able to play the originals they were supposed to be recording, or would the set be all covers? Would Tony be in the studio with them or would he even know they were there? Suddenly, her phone vibrated in her pocket. A message from Kenny.
K: Can you leave class?
M: I could, but I don't think it would be a smooth exit.
K: Make it smooth.
Malone sighed, the message from her brother seemed urgent. She carefully gathered her things before trying to make her exit half an hour early. She slowly stood, creeping her way past the two people next to her before walking up the stairs towards the exit.
"Ms. Taylor, I assume you feel as though your understanding of these concepts is superb. There would be no other reason to be leaving my class early," The professor called from the front of the classroom. Malone's face turned a light shade of pink she felt all 103 pairs of eyes turn to her.
"I'm sorry, it's just that my band got chosen to sign with a new label and um, I have a meeting, so," She tried to make an excuse as fast as possible that wasn't a lie, but also not the truth.
"Oh, and who might this new label be?" He pressed, trying to embarrass her.
"Stark Records."
The classroom turned from a murmur to a 103 person conversation, quickly. Malone took cover under the commotion and made her exit, hurrying out into the cool Boston spring. She tapped Cole's name on her phone, bringing it to her ear. It didn't even ring before he picked up.
"Are you on your way?"
"Yeah, Sonny's?"
"Yeah," He hung up, and she took off down the street towards the coffee shop that the band frequently met up between classes at. She rounded the corner and stepped into the unusually busy atmosphere. She quickly scanned the room and spotted her family. Kenny and Cole were both huddled around Kenny's computer, Ryan waiting for his coffee and flirting with the cute barista. He caught Malone's eye as she walked in, and took his drink, giving the girl the winning smile that got him all those dates. He followed Malone to the table, pulling out a tattered green journal and pen from his equally as dirty backpack.
