Grumpy officially lost his mind.

I can't get you anything until Friday at the earliest, Nora texted.

His response came in two rapid-fire texts.

That's bs.

Get me 1 by 2morrow aftr skwl.

Biting the side of her thumb, Nora stared down at her cheap, old smartphone. How would she come up with an entire piece by tomorrow after school? That was near impossible. She'd have to start writing the second she got home. Homework would suffer. Already, her once-perfect grades had coasted into a slow nosedive. Just yesterday, Professor Hamilton slapped her with a beautiful, big D on her geometry test. If she didn't hit the ground running, they'd sink lower—something the school would notice.

Around her, the squeak of shoes and bustle of students drowned out the music playing over the intercom during passing periods. Students shouted across the sticky, compact space to their friends across the way. The tinny slam of locker doors echoed through the air. The music cut off, drenching the students in quick, sudden silence, right before the bell for third period rang its three chords.

Crap.

Her literature book, a heavy, thousand-plus page hardcover, felt like a cement block in her arms. She yanked a half-ripped purple folder from the bottom of her cluttered locker and flung the metal door closed.

Three minutes late to Professor Crews's Abilities class. In high school—especially at Jostlin Music Academy—three minutes was too long. Aces took out loans, sold stocks, and worked three jobs to send their kids here. Families even dipped into savings to pay the tuition every year. Even then, it wasn't enough.

The door creaked painfully as she opened it, making her wince. Of course.

Twenty heads looked over. At the board, Professor Crews was in the middle of scrawling out notes in his illegible handwriting. "Ms. Davis, how gracious of you to make it."

The class snickered. Face flaming, she rushed to her seat at the end of the third row—right by the big windows.

It took a few minutes after class resumed for her face to cool. Thank Creator Professor Crews hadn't given her a tardy. Five tardies and she could kiss her detention-free record goodbye.

Something tiny struck the back of her neck. Bringing her hand up to cover the affected area, she glanced behind her.

Tessa, her closest friend, made a face at her.

Nora turned to the front of the room. Professor Crews was discussing something about a double meaning to the war poem they'd read for homework.

Something struck her again.

Rolling her eyes, she half-turned. "What?" she mouthed.

Tessa discretely lifted her phone.

U okay? her incoming text read.

Fine. Why?

A straight-faced emoji followed the message. Um. Cause ur never late.

I'm fine.

No ur not. I see the tension in ur shoulders. It's not 'cause Professor Crews is irritatingly boring.

He's not THAT boring.

Ur only saying that because ur a scholar.

"Scholar" was the slang for kids at Jostlin on scholarship. Most of the other students used the term with a bit of derision. As if the scholarship kids didn't really deserve to be there because they didn't pay full tuition. Normally, it didn't bother her. She worked ten times harder than half the kids here. She freaking earned the right to walk the halls. But she never liked when Tessa said it. It reminded Nora that Tessa came from money, and sometimes, she could be just like the others.

"Can we drop this? I've got work to catch up on." And boy, was that true.

An eye-roll emoji. U ALWAYS do. Fine. We'll talk later.

Thx. And for good measure, she added, Love you, Tess.

♡ u girl.

❅❅❅

Nora spent most of Literature staring out the window. Fortunately for her, she'd gotten the window seat in most classes. It was the ideal place to let your mind wander. She pulled her yellow spiral notebook from her bag, opened to a new page, and waited. Her eyes found the courtyard outside. It being third period, there wasn't much going on. Lunch periods didn't start until fourth, so no one would be around the area for another 50 minutes. She traced her gaze over the bare coffee-pigmented trees, the tiny yellowing grass patches sprouting under the white blanket of snow, the boring brown brick pillars of the science building across the way.

And waited.

Grumpy's "mask" was always the longest to put on. He was the least relatable of the rest of them. That was why she had a tendency to procrastinate on his songs.

The first thing to hit the page were random words. It usually happened that way. First the words, or a chord or two, then the lines, and finally the melody. Of course, no two songs were the same. The process mixed itself up depending on the theme, or even the artist.

Satellite. Cosmos. Dreams. Haunting.

The list was half a page long. She drew lines across it, connecting the ones that loosely resembled each other. Satellite and cosmos. Dreams and haunting ...

The warning bell chimed the finish of third period. She quickly scribbled down a line. You've got no substance. A satellite stuck in my cosmos. Haunting...

She wanted to rip out the paper and light it on fire. Creator help her, that was terrible writing. At this rate, how would she ever come up with something by tomorrow?

"So, I've got an idea," Tessa said, leaning her hip on Nora's desk as soon as the bell chimed. "You're gonna like it."

Oh no. "What have you done?"

They walked together to the science wing. Nora had chemistry—the junior class—during fourth period. Tessa dawdled until the last second, then booked it over to the gymnasium. Unlike Nora, Tessa didn't mind being late. She thought it made her look cool. Though Tessa didn't have to keep a perfect record to study here.

Nora had no time or wiggle room for being late. She had to be on her game. Every day.

"We're going to write a song for the Winter Showcase."

Nora blinked. Once. Twice. The last thing she needed right now was the added stress from another song. "Why?"

Tessa gave her a flat look. "Because, my clueless friend, they're going to start auditions for the open Winter Showcase sessions. If we want a shot, we need to start drafting like, yesterday."

She didn't have time to write another song. Not with her other artist sessions and classes. And forget about actually performing. She'd have to be dead to go up there. They'd have to drag her ice-cold, blank-staring carcass onto that stage.

Wouldn't that be a show...

"Tessa... I can't."

Tessa shook her head with a smile and held up a hand. "I don't want to hear anything yet. Think about it. We'll come back to this." She walked off.

Shit. Now she'd have to come up with a great excuse as to why the Showcase wasn't a good idea. Simply saying she didn't want to wasn't enough. Everyone wanted to get into the Showcase. Everyone. It was how the students at Jostlin got recognized. Producers, filmmakers, and other Musetunes artists came to the event to look at new talent.

Showcases had started careers in the past. And here in Sarias, you weren't anyone until you were someone.

❅❅❅

Her chemistry class was half full when she entered. Some students dawdled near the door. Others huddled in groups around desks, giggling and chatting away with their friends.

A rather large group of seven or eight kids swarmed around a desk in the second row. Those students not in the huddle had their bodies angles toward it, ready to catch any detail, any attention from the guy in the center.

Eli Leonger.

He'd gotten a haircut over the weekend. She could tell from the little flashes of him through the mass of students. Last week, Eli's dark locks curled as they hit his ears. Now, he'd gone for a shorter cut on the side with longer messy hair on top.

By tomorrow, half the guys at school would have the same cut.

Nora worked around the edge of the crowd and sat. Class wouldn't start for another two minutes. That gave her two minutes to get work done. Opening her notebook to a painfully blank page, she tapped the edge of her pencil against it.

"Eli, when are your sister and the prince going to marry?"

"Eli, my mom went to the palace yesterday for a tour. How do you even leave? It's such an amazing place."

"Dude, we're looking for more members for the EDM club. You in?"

She wasn't Eli, nor did she know much about him. But she had ears in this school. The gossip and chattering of eager students swarmed the school all the time.

Jostlin Academy loved Eli Leonger. Both Eli and his little brother Ian were Jostlin's biggest celebrities. They were high on the Musetunes chart—the music website Sarias's youth used as a "most popular list." And while they both had talent, it wasn't their Creator-given talents that made them popular. It was where they lived—in the royal palace with the king and queen—and who they called family. Eli and Ian Leonger were the brothers of the Commander of the Royal Guard and Anonymous.

Anonymous was the biggest star of their generation. She'd risen to fame through Musetunes and caught the attention of the prince himself. Last Nora looked, Anonymous still sat in the #1 spot. Behind her at #2 was Crown Prince Ethan Alexander, her fiancé.

The Leongers dabbled with fame and royalty every day. Heck, they were fame and royalty. And Jostlin Academy gobbled them up immediately. The students were desperate for any details of that royal life. Any that Eli was willing to give.

She wondered how all those kids could be swarming him and not one of them could notice the way his smile occasionally turned strained at the edges. Hers would too if she had to fake happiness all the time.

Professor Schubert clapped her hands as she entered. "To your seats!" she sang in her loud choir voice. "To your seats!"

The class scattered.

All through chemistry, Nora scribbled notes at the edge of her margins. Barely even lyrics, they were mostly words she liked. Words she wanted to use in the future. Whiplash. Tight lips. Crash. Misplaced truths. She collected words like others collected mugs or postcards. Most of her notebooks had random words strewn around the edges. Often, she'd find herself putting them to the page before her eyes caught up. As if her own brain wanted to hold them close. Keep them to pour over later. At some point, she'd sit down and go over her notebooks. Fit those joined syllables into lyrics like little puzzle pieces.

The bell rang an hour later. Lunch time. Finally. She went to the cafeteria, her notebook tight in one hand, and her brown bagged lunch loose in the other.

"Are we going to Ariel's party this weekend?" Tessa asked as she crunched on a carrot stick.

Nora shrugged and mumbled a noncommittal, squinting hard at her page and tapping her lower lip with her pen. What rhymed with whiplash other than "crash"? "Dash"? "Class" would too, if she played with the pronunciation ...

"Nora!" Fingers snapped in front of her eyes.

She slowly tore her gaze from the page. "What?"

Tessa frowned. "What's the matter with you? You're very distant today."

She pinched the bridge of her nose. The focus was starting to give her eye strain. Should've worn glasses, she told herself. "I'm sorry. I've got—" to write three songs before the beginning of next week, "—a project due soon for Lyricals. It's kicking my butt."

Her best friend wrinkled her nose. "How do you always have more projects than anyone else? I swear you Scholars welcome homework."

Tessa began a rant about pointless projects meant to keep students busy and out of trouble. Halfway through, Nora's phone buzzed. And buzzed.

She pulled it from her pocket.

Where are you?

Helloooo?

We were supposed to meet at 11:30! :(

I swear if you think this is funny...

Shit.

She scooped her stuff together so fast her potato chip bag fell off the table. She left it there. "I'm sorry, Tess—I forgot I'm supposed to meet my lab partner for chemistry at 11:30."

"Seriously? No! You're leaving?"

"I'll make it up to you," she called over her shoulder.

❅❅❅

"Where were you?" Sneezy asked as Nora flew through the studio door.

"At lunch—look, it doesn't matter." She poked through her bag until she came up with a slim, black memory stick. "I've got it right here."

Sneezy's real name was Ariel. A slim, fit girl with bright red hair, who'd easily climbed the Jostlin social ladder in her first year. Made friends where it counted. And now she had a Musetunes account that'd recently begun to climb—albeit slowly—up the charts.

Normally, it would be cute her hair was red. But anyone with eyes could see the brown roots. Ariel always liked playing into stereotypes. Nora had dubbed her Sneezy because—

Ariel coughed into her elbow.

—she was perpetually sick. Every month, there was something wrong with her. Today, she sported a black wrist brace.

Nora frowned at it. "What happened?"

"Oh," Ariel barely glanced down at it. Instead, she snatched the save stick from Nora's hand. "I think I'm getting carpal tunnel."

Dubious, Nora asked, "From what?"

"All my texting." Ariel shrugged. Then she held the USB up. "This is it?"

"That's what I have."

She tilted her head and, narrowing her eyes, said, "And the lyrics?"

"They will drop into your Musetunes inbox at 4:45 today from a generic username."

"Perfect."

❅❅❅

Nora walked through her backdoor, dropped her backpack onto the tile floor, and wilted into the nearest chair. It was an old heirloom of her stepmother's mother they used as a coat discard area in their mudroom.

She worked the muscles at the back of her neck. Her head ached—it always did after she spent time at the studio. She'd just gotten home from a three-hour session with Tara, aka Bashful, who had had to be told numerous times to sing louder. It'd taken Nora almost the entire session to get Tara to try a few riffs. Now, at 7 p.m., all she wanted was some food and sleep.

"Nora!"

She gritted her teeth and laid her head against the wall. Creator, please give me patience.

"NORA!"

"Yeah?" she called back.

"Get in here!"

Grumbling under her breath, Nora made her way through the family house until she found her stepsister.

Felicity was in the kitchen, eating cereal out of Mallory's good china. She sat at the large island, an open gossip magazine with big pictures and bright eye-catching colors in front of her.

"How did it go?" Felicity asked around a bite.

Nora shrugged, carefully pulling on her nonchalant face. Which wasn't hard to do when tired—facial expressions were exhausting. "Fine."

Felicity eyed her. "And?"

"And Tara still needs a lot of work," she said. A true statement.

Felicity chuckled. "Of course she does. She's not like me."

Blank face, Nora. Blank. "She's not."

Her stepsister took one last bite and set the bowl onto the granite countertop with a clatter. "Ok. What have you got for me?"

Crap.

"I, uh... haven't gotten to yours yet."

Her stepsister frowned, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. "I don't understand why this keeps happening, Nora. You've got two weeks to come up with a song. If you keep procrastinating, it's all going to build up around you." Her voice rose as she spoke, "And I don't care what has to happen, but I will not be telling my fans that I don't have a song for them."

"It will be done by Saturday. It always is."

"See that it is." Felicity bit out. She picked up her bowl, put it in the sink for Marnie to clean, and left.

Nora dropped into a chair and rested her forehead against the cool surface.