Victor Vanderbilt: The Musician

Chapter 1

"Dunno doc, maybe it's just in my head."

"Alrighty, times up kid. Pay up."

     This bastard didn't even help me with my 'mind cooling session', yet commercials recommend me to see him.

"Here's fifty. See you next week doc."

     Man. People only worked for money these days, what kind of therapy is this! I mean seriously, people ask you guys for help and y'all don't give a shit. Maybe I should just quit this crap.

"I'm home, mom!", I called.

"Oh there you are, so how did your therapy go?".

"It went smoothly. Thought about quitting because I kind of feel better."

"What really? You're feeling better?"

"Yeah, mom. I'm heading to my room now."

     Time to dial that stupid number. Wow, that guy doesn't even pick up his work phone. What a drag. Guess I will leave a message.

"Hey Doc, I'm feeling swell after a year with your help. I don't think I'll be coming anymore. Thanks."

     My name's Victor, my friends call me "Champ" because my name sounded like victory. I'm fifteen years of living, now going on tenth grade. "Champ" doesn't suit me, I'm more of a depressed musician who can't read sheet music. You see, I don't read notes, I memorize by ear. Every day I go to school just to spend time with friends. I'm not the educated type. But most of my friends are nerds. Except one. Her name is Lena, she's the sports-kid in our group. She won first place in track for three seasons in a row. Not only good at running but she's in the girls' basketball and volleyball team. She's our real champ.

     Next up is my pal Taylor. The bookworm. He reads twenty-four-seven, all exceeding his grade level. His parents say he gained scholarships from Mensa and Columbia University. That's believable because he never looks up from pages stapled together. Taylor stuffs his nose in books every day at lunch. But when he does look up, all the girls in our school go wow-wee. He's got a pretty face for a brain like his.

     Then we have Manny, messy-hair-don't-care kind of type. The inventor in our group. His bedroom is filled with junk, like a robot's crap. He too got a scholarship from Mensa. It makes sense, he has already jumped a grade. The same year, but he's going to eleventh instead. Second, to last, we have Jordan. The author. He likes to read and write. He didn't get a scholarship like the last two, but he seemed pretty good to me. He doesn't go to competitions or attends to any scholarships. He wrote just for fun, not giving a damn about awards or recognition. I asked him once," Why don't you go to competitions like Taylor and Manny?"

     He answered smiling, "Because not everything in life can be enjoyed by winning." I thought to myself that was a damn good answer.

     Last but not least, we got our big boy Cameron. He's the creative chipmunk. He can paint everything, watercolor, sketch, pastel, you name it. But he is the non-social type. He's got a damn good looking face, it's just that he doesn't socialize much. All the girls wanted to get his number but due to his lack of personality, the girls thought he was playing hard to get. If I was him, boy I would've been getting all their numbers.      And me. The musician who can't read music. Jealous of his friends' success. And not educated at school, grew grey and sad. He felt he was not going to be successful or find a good job to support himself in the future. What will he do?