The Singer and The Songwriter

Chapter Seven

So, like, I hate to say it but we're getting really close to the end of this. Really close. This is like the most exciting chapter, too. Well. This one and the next one. 

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Chapter Seven

          Ackton came sprinting over to my table at lunch. He’d made a habit of sitting with me every day since he broke up with his girlfriend. It’d been a week and half.

          We’d finished a grand total of six songs together. It was a long and tedious project, but it was worth it. Through the work of six songs, we’d gotten closer. I’d been to his house three times now, but he’d been to mine once.

          “Guess what?” he had a giant grin on his face.

          “What?” I asked.

          “I signed up for the talent show,” he grinned.

          The school’s talent show wasn’t overrated, surprisingly. It was only for high school, but anyone could perform. I actually enjoyed going. It was a long tradition of our school to host two a year. The acts were usually good, but none great.

          “And, that’s not even the best part!” he smiled.

          “What is, then?” I asked.

          “I was told that Mr. Maxwell contacted a few record companies and asked them to come and scout out the young talent,” he said.

          “That’s great!” I smiled.

          “Yeah, too bad the talent show isn’t for another few months,” he said, sitting down. He picked up the piece of pizza from my tray and took a huge bite.

          “But I think we’ll get a really, really good one by then,” he said, his mouth full.

          “You’re disgusting,” I laughed, pushing my tray towards him. He shrugged and finished eating my food.

          “Maybe, but you love it,” he winked.        

          I just rolled my eyes, and got out my book. I tucked my hair behind my ear and started reading. I knew that Ackton was watching me. He always seemed to study me when I read. I didn’t understand why, but it didn’t really bother me.

          I heard someone walk up to the table, and I looked up to see Natalie, Ackton’s ex standing at the table.

          Now, let me tell you something about Natalie. She was your average ‘it’ girl. She was blonde, incredibly skinny with big boobs and only wore designer clothes. She was kind of condescending, and really fake.

          “Can I help you?” Ackton sighed.

          “You broke up with me to sit with this bitch?” Natalie scoffed, “She even hardly has any boobs!” I blushed as she said this, and I wanted to hide.

          “First, Aimee isn’t a bitch. She’s too nice for the term to apply to her, unlike you. And second, sometimes a handful is ten times better than too much,” he said.

          Natalie gasped and stormed away. Ackton looked up at me, his bright eyes studying mine.

          “Sorry,” he said.

          “It’s whatever,” I said, getting up and gathering my things. I went to class, and couldn’t wait to get home. I had the night off, and didn’t have to worry about work. I could just go home and change into sweats and forget that this interesting, embarrassing debacle had even occurred.

          I was home soon, even though it felt like a really long time. I got home and pulled my hair up into a knotted bun. I slipped some sweats on and lay on my bed, reading. Some may say that I read too much, but it was a nice escape from reality.

          I was also glad that Ben wasn’t going to be home. He was out of town on business, but I liked to enjoy the silence of the house. Maybe I was an introvert. I kept to myself, and like it that way.

          “WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?” Ackton burst into my room, holding up my lyric notebook. He was irate. I’d never seen him mad, but this was beyond mad. He was angry. I winced when I saw he had my lyric notebook.

          “Ackton, where did you get that?” I asked.

          “You left it at lunch,” he snarled out.

          “You read it, didn’t you?” It wasn’t really a question; I knew the answer.

          “Of course I fucking did!” He yelled and threw the notebook. I felt a tear roll down my face, and I knew this was it. This was the end of our small friendship. My secrets were out.

          “GET OUT,” I said, my voice low and angry. He breached my privacy. My notebook was the only place that I could actually let my true thoughts out. I liked keeping my secrets a secret. No one needed to know that my parents died in a plane crash. No one needed to know that after they died I fell into a depression where I cut and was bulimic and anorexic. I was past that point in my life, and I wanted to bury it.  

          But now Ackton knew. He knew all my secrets. And he had the nerve to be angry at me? He had no reason to be. I didn’t breach his privacy or break his trust like he did to me. This is why I hated friends. You get close to them and then they tear you apart.

          “Aimee--!”

          “I said get out, this stupid partnership or friendship or whatever the hell this is? It’s over. You can forget everything ever happened,” I said, and got up, “Here is your jacket you gave to me, and here’s the book you bought me—it was great by the way, and here is every song I ever wrote for you and helped you with!” I said throwing the items at him. I pushed him out of my room, and slammed the door behind him. I rest my back against the door, tears streaming down my face as I slid down the door to sit on the floor as I cried.

          Stupid Ackton for forcing his way into my life. Stupid me for falling for it.