Chapter 2 Sydney - Working Together
Chapter 2
Sydney - Working Together
M y last class of the day was Music Composition. Professor Nelson was my favorite teacher. He taught several courses I’d taken while working on my degree in Music Education. His passion for music was contagious, and he was a favorite across campus. He cared about his students, and I would miss him once I graduated.
One Friday, I arrived at class and sat down in my favorite seat in the row next to the windows. Jessica Baker, my fellow Alpha Sigma Alpha sister sat down in the seat across the aisle. She reached in her backpack and took out a tube of shiny lip gloss that had a mirror right in the lid, expertly applying a fresh layer. She flipped her golden mane over her shoulder and turned to me.
“Sydney, do we have a mixer tonight?”
“Yes. Kappa Sigma if I remember correctly.”
“Oh good. They always have better beer than the piss they have at Omega Chi.”
I shook my head. “Beer is so vile. I don’t know how you can stand it.”
“I don’t care as long as it gets me drunk and it’s free.” The guy in the seat on her other side tapped Jessica on the shoulder and she whipped her head towards him. When she saw who it was, she began flirting .
“Hey Jessica, are you coming to the mixer tonight?” Austin Mitchell flashed his perfect teeth.
She reached over and touched him on his forearm. “Sydney and I were just talking about that. I know I will be making an appearance.”
“That’s great! We’re looking forward to seeing all of you lovely Alpha gals.” He leaned forward in his seat and looked at me. “Sydney, are you coming, too?”
I rolled my eyes. As if he cared if I came or not. “Probably. Jessica needs someone to hold her hair while she’s puking.”
She gasped and gave me stink eye. “I do not vomit.” She turned back to Austin. “I do not vomit. She has me confused with one of our other Alpha sisters.”
I turned away from them. Jessica could be so touchy. She had a crush on Austin and kept giggling at everything he said. It made me want to vomit a little. I couldn’t wait for class to begin so she would shut up.
Our teacher, Professor Nelson stood outside the door. He wore his usual khaki pants with a tucked-in dress shirt and tie. He kept his face clean-shaven and wore tortoise-framed glasses that complimented his curly brown hair. He was tall, standing at six-foot, eight inches. For Halloween this year he dressed as Lurch, which won the costume contest by a landslide. I was five-foot, four inches, making anyone over six feet a giant to me.
He sipped from his travel coffee mug as he watched the students passing by in the hallway. He greeted each of us as we walked into his classroom.
“Mr. Hancock, glad to see you… Miss Kilgore, welcome… Miss Walker, good morning…”
It made us feel seen, and sometimes that’s all the average young adult needs. He checked his watch and pulled the door to shut it. One last straggler squeaked by him.
“Ah, Mr. Swanson. Glad you could join us.”
“My pleasure.” Matt Swanson skated into his seat.
“I wouldn’t want you to miss out on hearing about your final assignment for the semester.”
Groans followed his words.
“Take it easy. You may enjoy this.” He leaned back against the front of his desk, folding his arms together. “We’ve spent the better part of this semester focusing on the composition and scores in written music. Now we’re going to discuss the lyrics. Let’s begin with an easy one. Is there anyone here who hasn’t heard or sang ‘Happy Birthday’ at some point?”
Not one hand raised.
“This is a song all of us are familiar with from a young age. Here’s another question for you. How many of you work at an Applebee’s or a casual sit-down restaurant like that?”
A few hands went up.
“Jessica, when you bring out a cupcake to celebrate the birthday of a customer, do you and your fellow employees sing ‘Happy Birthday’?”
“No. We have a special Applebee’s song.”
“Do you know why you don’t sing ‘Happy Birthday’?”
“No. Wait, why don’t we sing ‘Happy Birthday’? Now I’m confused.”
“The song ‘Happy Birthday’ had a copyright. That meant anyone who sang it in a movie or in a restaurant needed to obtain a license to perform the song. Having a different celebratory song gave the restaurants a work-around. ‘Happy Birthday’ was released into the public domain in 2015 and it now has fair use. Does anyone know who wrote it?”
“Elvis,” Austin shouted out, to scattered chuckles around the room.
Professor Nelson laughed. “No. Not even close. It was written in 1893 by sisters Mildred and Patty Smith Hill for their kindergarten students. According to Google, it still ranks as the topmost profitable song, cashing in at a cool fifty million dollars.”
“Are you trying to tell us that there is real money in writing our own songs?” Austin blurted.
“Excellent deduction, Mister Mitchell. That’s exactly what I’m saying. That’s what Brad Paisley said in his autobiography 1 . There are two ways to make the most money in the music industry: song writing, and touring. Have you noticed there are artists like Brad Paisley and Kenny Chesney who go out on tour every summer? They’re filling up their bank accounts.”
Murmurs spread throughout the classroom. Professor Nelson held up his hand and the room became quiet.
“One final question: How many of you read the campus paper?” About two-thirds of the class raised their hands. “If you have the latest edition in your possession, get it out and turn to page seven.”
Rustling spread throughout the room as people searched for their copies. I pulled my copy out of my backpack and turned to the page.
“Who wants to tell me what happens next week?”
I raised my hand.
“Miss Campbell, will you please read the headline?”
I cleared my throat. “Spring Showcase Auditions.”
“Is that related to our project?” Austin asked.
“Glad you asked, Austin. The short answer is yes. For your final project in my class, you will work in pairs to create an original song, with lyrics and music, and perform it during the showcase. Lip synching with your favorite song isn’t going to cut it.”
He walked around his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a red tin coffee can. He peeled off the yellow plastic lid. “Everyone’s name is on a paper in this can. The luck of the draw will decide your fate.”
“Now wait a minute, Professor Nelson. Why can’t we pick our own partner?” Jessica demanded. I’d learned from being one of her Alpha Sigma Alpha sisters that people didn’t tell her no very often. She negotiated anything that didn’t initially go her way.
“In real life, the one you are about to walk into, you don’t always get to pick your partner. Think about this. You start your shiny new job fresh out of college. Your boss tells you who you work with, correct?”
Mumbling consents filled the room.
“I will allow two groups to work together, Jessica, but the rules still apply. Everyone in the group receives the same grade. Choose your adventure wisely.” He dipped his hand into the can and mixed the papers. He held it out to Austin. “Care to go first?”
Austin sat up from his slouched position and reached into the can. He unfolded the piece of paper, got a funny grin, then shouted like a game-show host: “Sydney Campbell!”
Fantastic. Great. I got to work with Mister Fraternity. I’d played beer pong with that guy and several others at more than one Kappa Sigma mixer, but had he ever acted like he knew me in class? Uh, no. In my experiences with him, he didn’t seem like the studious type. This should be tons of fun .
And what was with the funny grin, anyway ?
I wasn’t a fan of cooperative projects. My teachers and professors thought they were teaching us how to work together to achieve a common goal, while reducing the amount of time they had to spend grading these projects. Every single time, I ended up doing ninety percent of the work for it to be done properly. It was incredibly frustrating, and I held no delusions about a shared workload with God’s Gift to Fraternities over there.
Professor Nelson finished pairing everyone, then answered questions. He concluded with a reminder. “You do not need to audition next week. This is a required opportunity and I have already reserved your slots. If you have a job, you should request off for the dress rehearsal and the showcase. Work isn’t an excuse for absence. See you tomorrow!” He returned to his seat behind his desk.
I took my time putting my things in my backpack.
Professor Nelson addressed me as I passed him. “Miss Campbell, what do you think about this project? Honest answer.”
I stopped in front of his desk and inhaled. “I would have preferred a solo option. I don’t like my grade riding on anyone’s shoulders but my own.”
“Fair enough.” He looked up at me. “Have some faith, Sydney. It might turn out better than you expect.”
“I sure hope you’re right, Professor Nelson.” I had my doubts.
I sighed as I headed down the hall.
Meghan and I connected in the dining hall for dinner. We’d been best friends since high school, and roomies through college, now at the Alpha Sigma Alpha house. Most of the girls in our sorority were thin and beautiful. And blonde. Meghan stood out whenever we went out as a group. Her long ebony hair fell clear down to her waist, and her olive toned skin gave her an exotic appearance. She had a lot of male admirers but never committed to any of them.
When we were freshmen, Meghan convinced me to rush, and it shocked me when I got a bid for Alpha Sigma Alpha. Meghan got one too, and we went through pledge week and initiation together. The sorority house had a kitchen, but I didn’t like to cook, and neither did Meghan. Tonight was the monthly all-you-can-eat shrimp night in the main dining hall, and we never missed it. Neither did anyone else. We picked up our first round of twenty tiny, breaded shrimp and found an empty table in the noisy, crowded dining room.
Meghan started tearing into her shrimp but stopped with the third one on its way to her mouth. “I didn’t get to hear about your date last night. How did it go?”
I finished chewing and swallowed. “I had a good time. We went to Applebee’s for their two-for dinner special, then caught one of those streetcar action movies at the bargain cinema.”
“What did you think of Danny?” She leaned in and watched my face.
“He’s nice.” I collected my thoughts. “He seems a little awkward, like maybe he hasn’t been on many dates. But neither have I. I’m glad you set us up. Thanks.”
Meghan exhaled. “Good. When he asked me out a few weeks ago, I almost told him no. I’m glad setting you two up worked. Definitely a better match than me and him.”
“I got nervous when he walked me to the door at the end. I wasn’t sure if he’d kiss me or not.”
“Did he? Tell me!”
I focused on my plate and pushed my French fries around. “He didn’t. I was disappointed. You were already asleep when I got back, and I didn’t want to wake you.”
“Oh no! Well, truthfully, he didn’t kiss me on our date either. Maybe on your second date?”
I blushed. “He did ask me if I’d like to go out again. I guess I did something right.”
Meghan grabbed my hand on the table. “Look at me, Sydney. You are an amazing woman, and any man would be lucky to date you.”
I knew she meant it, but most of the time I didn’t feel that way about myself. I’d been plus size since junior high. Most of the girls in my class dated or could find a date for the high school dances. Not me. I watched my two older sisters get ready for dates and dances many times. All I wanted was to get asked on a date, or to a dance, once during high school. It didn’t happen, and I surrendered myself to the fact that as a fat chick, I would never have a boyfriend. A few times, I let one of my friends set me up on a date, but they never went further than that. Danny was the first guy who asked for a second date .
“I don’t want to get my hopes up, Meghan. Being a fat chick has its limitations in the romance department.”
“Any guy who can’t see how wonderful and amazing you are isn’t worth your time.” Meghan patted my hand and returned her attention to her half-eaten plate.
“As my best friend, you’re required to say nice things like that. If only it were true. Now finish your shrimp so we can go back for seconds.”
“Not to change the subject, but I ran into Jessica just before coming here. She had her panties in a twist about an assignment in your Music Composition class.”
I snorted. “That’s an understatement. She wasn’t happy with whomever she got paired with for our final project. What else is new? If she couldn’t find a way to be dissatisfied, she would die for sure.”
Meghan snorted and practically choked on her shrimp. “She said you got paired with the cutest guy in class...”
I cut her off. “Cutest guy in class? More like the biggest pain in my ass.”
“Does this guy have a name?”
I bristled. “Austin Mitchell.”
Meghan clamped her hand in front of her mouth and sucked in a breath. “Oh my. I’m sorry, Sydney.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You know something I don’t. Spill.”
She pursed her lips. “I can’t. Let’s just say you’re going to have your hands full.”
I stabbed a fry into a puddle of ketchup. “I knew it. If I want to get a decent grade, I’m going to end up doing all the work, exactly like every other group project that’s been forced upon me. It’s unfair.”
Meghan nodded. “I completely understand. It’s never an equitable division of labor. Why do professors insist on this kind of torture?”
“All I know is, I’m not letting him get away with doing nothing. He’s not that charming.”
“Good luck with that.” Meghan stood up. “Ready for seconds? Let’s go.”
On Monday, I arrived at Professor Nelson’s class first. I found my favorite seat and faced the windows, lost in thought. A loud bang startled me out of my daydream—Austin had dropped a book on my desk.
“Hey, Partner! How’s it going?” Austin stood there, showing me his annoyingly perfect white teeth. He picked up his marketing textbook and slid it into his backpack before straddling his seat backwards to face me.
“Partner?” I pursed my lips.
“Yeah, we’re working together. That makes us partners.” He drummed his fingers on my desk. “Have you come up with anything for our project yet?”
Figured. He thought he was going to charm me into doing all the work. Fat chance. “I worked at the bookstore all day on Saturday, and on Sunday I wrote a paper for my Contemporary Literature class.”
He thought for a moment as he ran his hand through his hair. “I had a busy weekend, too.” He would have continued, but Professor Nelson shut the door, and we gave him our attention.
“Happy Monday, my fearless artists. I hope you’ve begun to think about your projects. As promised, I’m going to give you time in class today to confer with your partners. This won’t happen every day. Count on working with your partner outside of class as well.”
Groans peppered the air. Jessica raised her hand.
“Yes, Miss Baker?”
“Is it okay if we planned with another group to switch partners?” She cocked her head at him. People didn’t tell her no very often.
“That’s an excellent question that I’m sure I answered on Friday. The answer is no. Two groups can join forces, but you may not switch partners.” He regarded Jessica. She pouted a little but kept quiet. “What questions do you have?” He waited, and no one responded. “Okay then. I will be available at my desk. Good luck!”
Austin smacked his hand on my desk. “All right. Let’s get started!”
I opened my notebook to a blank page. At the top I wrote Final Project and underlined it. Then I drew a line vertically down the middle of the page. I placed Pros and Cons in opposite column s . “What do you think we could do? Do you play any instruments? I play piano but nothing fancy. I also play the clarinet, but it’s not the instrument I imagine for an acoustic set. ”
He winced. “I agree with you. Officially, I play the saxophone and the guitar. I’m not a whiz at the piano, but I’m not half bad.”
I wrote all the instruments in the Pros column. “Aren’t you in Show Choir, too?” I asked. “You can sing, right?”
“Yes. But it’s hard to make my mouth and feet move at the same time.”
I laughed and called out to Professor Nelson. “Hey, Professor, how did this clown get into Show Choir?”
He didn’t raise his eyes from his crossword. “I forgot to take my medication that day.”
“Ouch!” Austin clutched at his chest, feigning injury.
I attempted to stop laughing. “Okay, no choreography.” I put that in the Cons column.
“Now what?” Austin thought. “We have a few different directions we could go.” He bounced his leg up and down, driving me crazy.
I couldn’t take it anymore. I threw him a bone. “We can see what we have in common by sharing the kinds of music we enjoy.”
“Great idea!” Austin brightened a little and stopped bouncing his leg. “I’ll start, if that’s okay with you.”
“Shoot.”
“I love country music. Garth Brooks and Tim McGraw are my heroes. Shania Twain and Carrie Underwood are amazing. Chris Young and Chris Stapleton are cool, too.”
“I’ve heard of them. I can’t say I’m a huge fan of country music.”
Austin clutched his chest in mock horror. “How can you live here in Kansas City and not like country music? Who do you listen to regularly?”
“I’m more of a Top Forty junkie. Lizzo, P!nk, Adele, and Lady Gaga. I saw OneRepublic with Fitz and the Tantrums over the summer. I also like Maroon 5, Jonas Brothers, and Adam Lambert. There’s nothing he can’t sing.”
“I’m only forced to listen to Hot 100 FM at work. It doesn’t sound like we have anything in common, musically speaking,” Austin observed.
“That’s something else we can agree on,” I confirmed. At this moment, I couldn’t see how our assignment spelled anything but huge disaster . Passing the class was what mattered .
Journal Entry
I’m glad this is my last semester. I get tired of group projects. And now, joy of joys, I must work with Mister Popularity. He thinks everyone should like him just because he converts oxygen to carbon dioxide. I swear, I am not going to let him skate through this assignment just by flashing his smile and using his southern drawl. We’re not that far south, and I’m not impressed.
Meghan knows something about him that she isn’t telling me. That makes me nervous. I am too close to graduation to let a redneck cowboy ruin it for me. I’ve got my radar up on you, Austin Mitchell. This fat chick is not as dumb as you might think. Bring it.
1 Paisley, Brad, and David Wild. Diary of a Player: How My Musical Heroes Made a Guitar Man Out of Me . Simon & Schuster, 2012.