Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
I t had been a long day. I had early morning and late afternoon classes with two exams, one written and the other performance. After that audition I'd felt more confident than ever, and it showed. Temsah gave me a nod of approval, so I knew I'd done well. Thoughts of Ren hadn't distracted me at all.
He'd stopped messaging me after I didn't reply. I felt bad. I probably should have messaged him back. After all, I still wanted to talk to him, still wanted to know what had happened in his past. I just didn't know how I could be around him while my feelings were so messed up.
I blew out a frustrated breath and rubbed my hands over my face. The woman sitting next to me on the bus gave me a look out of the corner of her eye and turned sideways, facing away from me. It was rush hour and the bus was packed. My cello took up an entire seat to itself, so she was already annoyed at having to squeeze into the tiny space left on the third seat.
I was relieved when the bus reached my stop. I caused a minor scene, excusing myself and trying not to push people out of the way, but I needed to get to the doors before the driver closed them.
If my last class ended during the rush hour commute, I normally stayed late and played in one of the practice rooms. It had been a challenging day, though, and all I wanted was to get home, take a shower, and go to bed early.
I wheeled my cello through the front doors of my apartment and checked the mail on autopilot, not expecting anything but junk.
Instead I found a letter addressed to me.
I drew in a sharp breath. It was from one of the scholarship funds I'd applied to, the only one I hadn't heard back from. The only one that hadn't turned me down completely.
I gripped it tight, being careful not to crumple it. I wheeled my cello to the elevator, nerves buzzing and a lump in my throat.
After what felt like an eternity, I made it to my apartment, took off my coat and sat on the living room sofa.
"Nat? Jen?"
They weren't home yet. I had to do this by myself.
I slowly and carefully ripped a tiny piece of the envelope all the way down its side and pulled out the contents. It was a single piece of paper. I read the first few words. My heart sank.
We regret to inform you…
Another rejection. The final rejection.
I really thought I'd get this one. I met all the requirements, had all the qualifications. It just wasn't enough. There were too many students applying and not enough money to go around.
I blinked back the tears stinging my eyes and sat on the sofa for several long minutes, digesting the news.
"It's okay." I forced myself to say the words out loud. "I'll be okay."
So what if I didn't get this scholarship? I'd known it might be the case. There were no guarantees—that's why I'd started looking for part-time jobs. I didn't have to freak out. I nodded to myself and wiped at my cheeks. I could handle this.
I went about making dinner, trying to distract myself with mundane tasks. I decided to make lemon pepper chicken with rice and vegetables. According to the color-coded schedule we'd stuck to the fridge, Natalie and Jen would both be home within an hour. I'd make enough for all three of us to eat when they came home.
I glanced at the time and set the oven to pre-heat. I seasoned the chicken and measured out the rice to put in the cooker. I chopped red and orange bell peppers into thin strips; I could cook them in the steaming basket that came with the rice cooker.
When the oven was ready, I put in the chicken. Finished with all the prep work, I wiped down and disinfected the countertops. It wasn't my turn to clean, but I felt it was only fair that I clean the mess I made.
When everything was clean and put away, I stared at the clock. The second hand ticked away.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
I shook my head and clasped my shaking hands to my chest.
"I'll be okay," I said aloud.
With dinner in the oven, I decided to do a bit of tidying, taking out the kitchen trash, straightening up the living room, and putting away odds and ends that always cluttered up the coffee table. Anything to distract myself.
I was contemplating dusting the tops of the bookshelves when I heard my phone ping from across the room. I hesitated. What if it was Ren again?
Despite my reluctance, I grabbed my phone and checked it. It wasn't a message from Ren—it was an email from the events company.
My mood instantly cheered up. I tapped to open it, anticipating the details of the job.
Hello Ivy. We want to thank you so much for your audition. We have decided to go with someone else for this position. We wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors.
I blinked, confused, and re-read the message.
We have decided to go with someone else for this position.
I became vaguely aware of a pain in my chest. It felt tight, like a vice squeezing my ribcage.
I didn't get the job.
I lowered my phone. I heard it fall from my hands and thump on the carpeted floor. My vision went white, my eyes focused on nothing. I slowly dropped to the floor, a controlled descent, unable to keep myself standing upright.
My cheeks felt wet and my eyes were burning.
"I'll be okay," I whispered.
I took in a shuddering breath. I tried to push back the despair, the fear. My lungs ached. I slowly let out the breath, but it came out in a hiccoughing sob. I pressed my hands over my mouth, trying to contain it. I knew if I started crying I would never stop.
If I got kicked out I'd have to move back home. I'd have to leave Natalie and Jen. I'd never see my friends again.
A gasping sob escaped my throat. Then another. Then another. No matter how hard I tried to swallow them down, they wouldn't stop coming.
My phone rang. I jolted upright, choking back a whimper.
Was it the events company? Had they made a mistake?
I ran my hands over my face to wipe away the tears even though whoever was calling wouldn't see it. I grabbed my phone and swiped quickly to answer it.
"Hello?" I cringed at how my voice hitched, rough and thick.
"Ivy?"
Ren.
"I was calling to—" he stopped. "Are you okay? You sound…"
"I—" My throat closed up. I couldn't tell him I was fine. I couldn't force the words out this time. I sniffled unconsciously.
"What's wrong?" He was immediately concerned. "Are you crying? What happened?"
"…I didn't get the job." My voice was low and barely audible.
Ren let out a sound of distress. "I'm sorry. The event one?"
"Yeah. They chose someone else." My breathing was shaky. I clutched my phone with trembling hands. "I really thought I had it. I thought I did so well." Another tear fell down my cheek. "Ren, I don't know what to do."
"It's okay. You'll get another job."
I shook my head even though he wouldn't see it. "You don't understand."
"Don't understand what? Ivy, tell me." His voice was soft, calm.
"I needed that job," I stressed. "I applied for so many scholarships and grants and financial aid, but they all rejected me and none of the other jobs fit around my class schedule. It would take months to save up enough and this job would have paid me in cash right away, but I didn't get it and my tuition is due and my parents needed the money but if I don't pay on time they'll kick me out and I'll have to leave and go back home and I don't know what to do!" I clamped my mouth shut, choking back tears.
Ren was silent for a moment. I could hear his quiet breathing through the phone.
"It's going to be okay," he said eventually, trying to console me. I didn't reply. After a few moments he spoke again.
"You go to Opus Academy, right? They're one of the best in the country, aren't they?"
"Yeah," I whispered.
"How much is your tuition?"
I told him. "The whole amount isn't due at once. I'm paying in installments. I just don't have enough to pay the next one."
"You play cello with a concentration in performance?"
Even through my tears I was surprised he remembered.
"Yeah."
"What else?" he asked.
I sniffled again. "What do you mean?"
"What else sets you apart from the other students at your school?"
"I—" I was taken aback, almost distracted from my misery. "I'm also taking composition. Double major."
"And?"
"I'm a girl. There aren't very many female cello players at my school."
"What else?"
"Um, I'm poor?" I huffed out a bitter laugh.
"It's going to be okay, Ivy."
"Nothing's okay," I said, voice dull and defeated.
"I promise you, you're going to be fine."
"How? How do you know that?"
"Because you're Ivy from Opus Academy and you're amazing."