Wingman Blues

Unexpected Connections

Friday arrived, dragging in with it a wave of indifference. Attending classes felt like a chore, but I trudged to my first one nonetheless. As the bell dismissed us, I found myself surrounded by Mackenzie and the band, buzzing with excitement about heading to Mr. Philip's studio for practice. They whipped out passes, excusing themselves from their remaining classes.

A familiar sense of disconnection washed over me. While not physically unwell, I felt mentally adrift, lacking the energy to navigate the rest of the school day. Skipping class, the thought whispered in my mind, offering the allure of rest and escape.

As I made my way towards the exit, Mackenzie's voice echoed behind me. "Therese!"

I turned to face her inquiring gaze. "Where are you off to? Don't you have classes today?"

"I'm not feeling well," I offered, my voice lacking conviction. "Just heading home to rest up."

"Why not join us then?" she countered, her enthusiasm infectious. "We're going to Mr. Philip's studio for practice. We could grab lunch together afterwards."

The thought of spending time with Mackenzie and the band, enveloped in the familiar rhythm of music, held a faint glimmer of appeal. "Who else is coming?" I asked, curiosity piqued.

"Me, the band, and a few sophomores. Mr. Philip invited them for lunch at the studio."

A decision flickered within me. "I guess I could come and watch you guys for a bit," I conceded, the words carrying a hint of uncertainty.

"Awesome! Let's go then!" Mackenzie's smile was radiant as she linked her arm with mine, pulling me along towards the unknown, a small spark of hope igniting within me.

We arrived at the studio, a motley crew of Kyle's best friends: Ryan, Henry, Eddie, Justin, Sam, Anthony, Jason, and Max. Notably absent was Kyle himself. My phone buzzed, a reminder from Alex about our upcoming anniversary and his excitement. I confirmed our plans, adding a cryptic message that I had something to tell him.

As the band launched into their practice session, I found myself captivated by their music. Mackenzie, after a while, took a break, checking her phone. Meanwhile, Ryan continued to strum idly, lost in his own musical world. Jason, one of the friends, approached me.

"Why don't you sing something while Mackenzie takes a break?" he suggested.

My usual response, "I don't sing," tumbled off my lips.

Before I could elaborate, Ryan chimed in, still focused on his guitar. "Give it a try."

Jason, sensing a chance, pressed further. "Just one try, please?"

Hesitantly, I agreed. "Do you know '7 Things' by Miley?" I asked Ryan, searching for a familiar tune. He gave a silent nod, his fingers weaving a familiar melody.

Taking a deep breath, I gripped the microphone and began to sing. Initial nerves soon gave way to the rhythm of the music, the lyrics flowing effortlessly. As the song ended, Jason erupted in a joyous outburst of jumps, shrieks, and laughter.

"Holy cow! You sound just like her," he exclaimed, still giddy with disbelief. His enthusiasm attracted the others, who rushed in to investigate the source of the commotion. Jason, his finger pointing excitedly, declared, "It's her! She sounds just like Miley!"

His words drew Mr. Philip into the fray. "Wow, you're really good," he stated, his eyes brimming with appreciation. "Why not perform this at the school formal? I'd love to have you."

Before I could protest, Mackenzie congratulated me. "See? I told you, you just needed to step out of your comfort zone," she said, her voice laced with a hint of hidden meaning.