Chapter 26
Chapter 26
Foggy Mirror
Now it gets moist
Heaven’s beautiful but it’s feeling blue
No one thinks of love now
Because everything is wrong
Everyone is a blind song
Debt tick-tackling clock
Money is the first priority
Now tell me—who can’t be sadder than heaven?
Mm… mmm… sadder than heaven
The heavens crying
Blocking the white clouds
But if it’s not gray
It feels blue all the time
Harry claps and compliments the song. I grin at him, and I see mom smiling with tears in her eyes.
When we get home, I can’t sleep for half an hour because the sound in my head won’t let me. I know it won’t stop until I grab my guitar and write the music down. I get up, grab my notebook and pen. Now and then I pause to write down chords and lyrics—I’m back to writing. It’s been over a year since I last wrote a song, back at camp.
This is hard for me
I don’t know how to call this
The feeling inside
Making me feel sick
Looking at you taking my breath away
Not willing to hope
So hard to cope
Because this is the first time
It’s the first time for me to love
First time to feel like this
You’re so adorable, beautiful, incredible
This is different
This obviously has consequence
Evaluating
Trusting
Overrated
Uncontrollable
Just so casually
Under-identifying
Moderating
Because this is the first time
Try to stop being so beautiful
Don’t try to look at me
Please don’t
Because I’ll fall
But I’m already falling
It takes me three hours to finish the song. It’s the fastest I’ve ever written one. I don’t bother cleaning up the crumpled papers and mess in my room—I have to wake up early. I check the time on my phone: 2:45 a.m. I set the guitar beside me and turn off the lamp. I even record myself singing the songs I’ve written for my first album.
We’re heading to the studio to talk about the album. Mr. Kite and the rest of the team are excited. Even Joey replies fast every time I send her a new song I’m writing. Joey, my music arranger—at the first meeting I found her annoying, but she’s honestly a lovely woman. When Mr. Kite sees us, he walks quickly over.
“I’ve heard the songs you sent to Joey and Kourtney.” He says.
Kourtney is in her late twenties; she’s my co-writer. Her hair is pink and long, but she always puts it in a messy ponytail. She has a tarantula tattoo on her neck, black nails, and likes wearing big bracelets with thorns.
“How were they?” I ask.
Most of the songs I sent are the ones I wrote for my best friend when she left me, plus two I wrote for my father. I only sent a few new songs.
“I love them,” he says as we head back to the office.
“I don’t think we have to co-write the others.” Mr. Kite adds.
Joey and Kourtney hug me as soon as they see me. My mother silently observes us, never leaving my side, always with me wherever I go.
“I guess we need to put an echo on this part,” Joey explains, playing the song. The song playing is First Time, one of the newest songs I wrote, right in the bridge section.
“That would be a great idea.” I agree.
I’m still adjusting, even though I’ve been doing this for a month now. It’s hard getting used to hearing my voice over the speakers.
We go to Mr. Kite’s office, which has a long table. Once settled, opinions fly everywhere.
“The songs are great, but a lot of it is too dark. I don’t know if young people will like it.” says Kourtney.
“I think teenagers will like them.” Mr. Kite replies.
“Yeah, like emo kids. Besides, the songs aren’t like other emo bands. Mr. Archer adds.
“They give me an Avril Lavigne vibe — her older stuff.” says Kourtney.
“Who’s your target audience?” someone asks.
The room goes quiet as all eyes turn to me.
“I guess people my age.” I say. “People who’ve experienced what I’ve experienced.”
“Fair enough.” Kourtney nods.
“I have a new list of songs.” I say.
After agreeing on the songs from my first and second lists, we decide to start recording.
I receive a text from Harry.
Harry: Hey babe, good luck with your first day in the recording. Just keep rockin’. I’m so proud of you.
I smile at the thought. Before I can reply, he sends another:
Harry: Wish I was there with you, but I’m still proud. I love you.
Harry and the lads are writing new songs for their next album. According to him, they’re changing their music style. They’ll release it next year.
Me: I’m kinda excited. I don’t know what to expect though.
Harry: Want to have dinner later? I’m starting to miss you.
Me: That would be great. I miss you too.
We record guitar and drums first. Kourtney adds violins and pianos to some songs—I didn’t think that was possible, but it sounds amazing. My mom is the pianist—at least she’s doing something. When it’s time for vocals, I step into the booth. This is becoming my new favorite place in the world.
“Ready, Elise?” Mr. Archer asks. “Begin with Broken Dreams.”
I put on the headphones and he signals me to start. I sing the first verse. Mr. Archer cuts me off now and then when I hit a wrong note. It makes me laugh inside—out of tune with my own song! But I guess every singer goes through that. I’ve watched recordings of some artists I like to get myself emotionally ready for today.
We have lunch at 11:30. I’m already exhausted; we started at 4 a.m., but I don’t think about it because even tired, I feel accomplished. We talk more about the songs. They say I’ll be touring with Lizzy on her upcoming tour so people can get to know me.