3. Trainwreck

CHAPTER 3

Trainwreck

LIAM

P laying the grand piano in our living room, my fingers flew over the keys as I practiced for the talent show. The music was my escape, my way of drowning out the constant tension that seemed to fill every corner of the house. When I played, I could almost forget about the pressure, the expectations, the never-ending arguments.

Almost.

As I lost myself in the melody, my mind wandered to Caleb and our band. The way we connected through music, the thrill of creating something beautiful together - it felt like magic. For the first time in my life, I felt like I truly belonged somewhere.

But even as the music soared, a nagging voice in the back of my head whispered doubts. Was I being selfish, pursuing this dream? Was I letting my parents down? The conflict tore at me, a constant war between my passion and my sense of duty.

I could hear my parents' voices drifting in from the other room, muffled but still unmistakable. They were talking about my future again, like they always did. It was like a broken record, skipping and repeating the same old tune.

"He's throwing away his potential," my dad's voice growled. " All this time wasted on piano when he should be focusing on his AP classes."

My mom's softer tone followed. "I know, dear, but maybe if we approach this differently-"

"Liam!" My mom's voice suddenly cut through the music, sharp and impatient. "Are you actually practicing in there, or just messing around?"

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my cool. "I'm practicing, Mom. Promise."

The door swung open, and my dad walked in, his eyes narrowing as he watched me play. I could see the disappointment etched in the lines of his face, and it made my stomach churn. "Son, we need to talk."

I sighed, my fingers stilling on the keys. "About what, Dad? Let me guess - college, right?"

He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. "This is serious, Liam. Your grades have been slipping lately, and your mother and I are concerned. We think you're spending too much time on this music nonsense and not enough on your studies."

I bit back a groan. If I had a dollar for every time they called my music "nonsense," I'd be rich enough to buy my own recording studio. But beneath the frustration, a pang of guilt hit me. They had worked so hard to give me opportunities, sacrificed so much. Was I being ungrateful?

"It's not nonsense," I said, trying to keep my voice level. "Music is important to me, Dad. It's what I love, what I'm good at. Why can't you understand that?"

Mom appeared in the doorway, her lips pursed in disapproval. I could see the worry in her eyes, and it made my heart ache. She had always been my biggest supporter, but lately, even she seemed to be losing faith in me.

"We do understand, Liam," she said softly. "But music is a hobby, not a career. You need to focus on your academics if you want to get into a good college and have a successful future."

I could feel my frustration rising, bubbling up in my chest like a shaken soda can. But underneath it all was a deep, gnawing fear. What if they were right? What if I was throwing away my future on an impossible dream?

"But what if I don't want to go to college?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. "What if I want to pursue music instead?"

Dad's face turned red, his voice rising to a shout. "Absolutely not! We've worked too hard, sacrificed too much to give you every opportunity. You are not throwing your future away on some silly dream!"

Tears stung my eyes, but I blinked them back furiously. I wouldn't let them see me cry, wouldn't give them the satisfaction. But their words cut deep, feeding the doubts that already plagued me.

"It's not a silly dream," I said, my voice shaking. "It's my passion, my life. Why can't you just support me for once?"

Mom sighed, rubbing her temples like she had a headache. "We do support you, Liam. But we also have to be realistic. The chances of making it in the music industry are slim to none. We just want what's best for you."

I slammed the piano lid shut, the sudden silence ringing in my ears. "What's best for me? Or what's best for you?"

I didn't wait for an answer. I grabbed my backpack and stormed out of the room, ignoring their shouts for me to come back. I couldn't take it anymore, couldn't stand being in that house for one more second.

As I walked down the street, no real destination in mind, my thoughts were a jumbled mess. I loved my parents, I really did. I knew they wanted me to succeed, to have a stable future. But why couldn't they see that music was more than just a hobby to me? It was like breathing - essential, life-giving.

I thought about Caleb, about the way his eyes lit up when we played together. He believed in me, in my talent. He made me feel like anything was possible. But was that enough? Could I really build a life on passion alone ?

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see a text from Caleb.

"Hey, just finished a new song idea. Can't wait to show you tomorrow! You're gonna love it."

A small smile tugged at my lips despite my turmoil. Just thinking about playing with Caleb and the band made some of the tension ease from my shoulders. When we were making music together, everything else faded away. It felt right in a way nothing else did.

But then reality crashed back in. What kind of future could I really have in music? My parents' words echoed in my head. Slim to none. Throwing your future away. I'd seen the statistics, heard the stories of struggling musicians. Was I naive to think I could be different?

I found myself at the local park, sinking onto a bench as the weight of my thoughts threatened to overwhelm me. I loved music with every fiber of my being. When I played, I felt alive, connected to something greater than myself. The idea of giving that up, of resigning myself to a life of office work and spreadsheets, made me feel physically ill.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the park, I realized I had no easy answers. My future stretched out before me like an unwritten song, full of possibility but also uncertainty. Part of me wanted to play it safe, to follow the path my parents had laid out for me. But another part, the part that came alive when my fingers touched the keys, longed to take a leap of faith.

I pulled out my phone again, scrolling through the photos of our band practices. There was one of Caleb, head thrown back in laughter as he strummed his guitar. Another of Sarah, focused intently on her bass. And Mark, grinning widely behind his drums. These people, this music - it felt like home.

With a deep breath, I stood up, my decision made. I couldn't give up on my dream, not without at least trying. But I also couldn't keep fighting with my parents. Somehow, I had to find a way to bridge the gap between their expectations and my passion.

As I walked home, a plan began to form in my mind. I would work harder on my grades, show my parents that I could balance music and academics. And I would prove to them that my music wasn't just a hobby, but a viable path forward.

It wouldn't be easy. There would be more arguments, more doubts, more sleepless nights worrying about the future. But as I thought about the upcoming talent show, about the music we'd create together, I felt a spark of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, I could have both - the support of my family and the pursuit of my dreams. It was a delicate balance, a challenging melody to master. But I was determined to try.

The next day at school, I walked into the music room with a newfound sense of determination. The familiar scent of polished wood and sheet music greeted me, a comforting balm to my frayed nerves. Sunlight streamed through the large windows, casting a warm glow over the instruments scattered around the room.

Caleb was already there, perched on a stool, his fingers dancing over the strings of his guitar. The soft, melodic tune he was picking out made my heart skip a beat. He looked up as I entered, his face breaking into a wide grin that never failed to make me feel like I belonged.

"Hey, rock star," he said, his eyes twinkling. "Ready to blow the roof off this place at the talent show?"

I grinned back, feeling a thrill of excitement and nerves coursing through me. "As ready as I'll ever be. Let's do this."

As I settled at the piano, my fingers ghosting over the cool ivory keys, I couldn't help but marvel at how different this felt from playing at home. Here, surrounded by friends who believed in me, the music felt alive, vibrant, full of possibility.

We dove into practice, working on our song for the talent show. The hours flew by as we tweaked melodies, adjusted harmonies, and fine-tuned our performance. I lost myself in the music, letting it wash over me and carry me away. In those moments, nothing else mattered. Not my parents, not their expectations, not the uncertain future that loomed ahead.

As the afternoon wore on, Mark and Sarah burst into the room, their energetic presence immediately lifting the atmosphere.

"Sorry we're late!" Mark called out, his drumsticks already twirling between his fingers. "Ms. Henderson kept us after class for ‘disturbing the peace'." He made exaggerated air quotes, rolling his eyes.

Sarah snorted, plugging in her bass. "By ‘disturbing the peace', he means he thought it'd be hilarious to start a paper airplane war in the middle of a pop quiz."

"Hey, I was merely demonstrating the principles of aerodynamics," Mark protested, settling behind his drum kit. "It's not my fault if the rest of the class decided to join in."

I couldn't help but laugh. Mark's mischievous streak was legendary, but it was balanced by a fierce loyalty to his friends that made him impossible not to love. Sarah, on the other hand, was our voice of reason, always ready with a sarcastic quip or a level-headed solution to whatever chaos we found ourselves in.

As we launched into our first full run-through of the day, I felt a surge of pride. We sounded good - really good. The way Sarah's bass lines intertwined with Mark's steady beats, the perfect counterpoint to Caleb's guitar riffs and my piano melodies - it was magic.

But just as we hit the bridge, a jarring screech from Sarah's amp cut through the music. We all winced, the sudden dissonance breaking our rhythm.

"Crap," Sarah muttered, fiddling with her equipment. "I think something's loose in here. Give me a sec."

As Sarah worked on fixing her amp, Mark started up a impromptu drum solo, his sticks a blur as he pounded out a complex rhythm. I found myself nodding along, impressed as always by his skill.

"Show off," Caleb teased, but there was admiration in his voice.

Mark grinned, not missing a beat. "Just keeping things interesting, my friend. Can't let you guitar heroes hog all the spotlight."

I laughed, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. This easy camaraderie, the way we could joke and tease and support each other - it was something I'd never really had before. It made me feel brave, like I could face anything as long as I had these people by my side.

As Sarah finally got her amp working again, we dove back into our practice. But it seemed like the technical difficulties were just the beginning. Over the next hour, we hit one snag after another. Mark broke a drumstick, sending splinters flying across the room. I fumbled a particularly tricky piano run, my fingers suddenly feeling clumsy and uncooperative. Even Caleb, usually so confident, kept missing chord changes.

Frustration built with each mistake, the pressure of the upcoming talent show weighing heavily on all of us. I could feel my old insecurities creeping back in. What if we weren't ready? What if I let everyone down?

"Okay, let's take five," Caleb finally said, running a hand through his hair. "We're all getting too tense. We need to regroup."

As we took a breather, I found myself gravitating towards Caleb. There was something about his presence that always calmed me, made me feel centered.

"You okay?" he asked softly, his eyes searching my face. "You seemed a little off there for a bit."

I shrugged, trying to ignore the flutter in my stomach at his concern. "Just nervous, I guess. What if we're not ready for this?"

Caleb bumped his shoulder against mine, a gesture that was becoming comfortingly familiar. "We've got this, Liam. You've got this. I've never met anyone with as much raw talent as you."

His words sent a warm glow through me, chasing away some of the doubt. I wanted to say something back, to tell him how much his belief in me meant, but the words stuck in my throat.

Before I could figure out how to respond, Sarah called us back to our instruments. "Alright, slackers. Break time's over. Let's nail this thing."

As we settled back into our places, I took a deep breath, letting the familiar feel of the piano keys ground me. I thought about how far I'd come since joining this band, how much more confident I felt in my abilities. These people, this music - it was changing me, helping me grow in ways I never expected.

We started playing again, and this time, something clicked. The mistakes that had plagued us earlier melted away, replaced by a synergy that felt almost supernatural. Mark's drums provided a rock-solid foundation, Sarah's bass adding depth and richness. Caleb's guitar soared over it all, and my piano wove through the melody, tying everything together.

As we hit the final chorus, I felt a rush of pure joy. This was why I loved music. This feeling, this connection, this ability to create something beautiful out of thin air - it was indescribable.

We finished with a flourish, the last notes hanging in the air for a moment before fading away. There was a beat of silence, and then we all burst into cheers and laughter.

"Now that," Mark said, pointing his drumsticks at each of us in turn, "is what I'm talking about. We're gonna blow everyone away at that talent show."

Sarah nodded, a rare, genuine smile on her face. "I hate to admit it, but Drumstick Boy is right. We sound awesome."

As we packed up for the day, the excitement was palpable. We all knew we had something special here, something that could really make an impact at the talent show.

"Same time tomorrow?" Caleb asked as we headed out .

We all nodded, energized despite the long practice. As we said our goodbyes, Caleb hung back, falling into step beside me.

"Hey," he said, his voice softer than usual. "I just wanted to say you were really amazing today. The way you play, it's beautiful."

I felt my face heat up, a mix of pride and something else, something deeper, flooding through me. "Thanks," I mumbled, ducking my head to hide my blush. "You were pretty amazing yourself."

Caleb grinned, and for a moment, I thought I saw something flicker in his eyes, something that made my heart race. But before I could process it, he was saying goodbye, heading off towards his house.

As I walked home, my mind was buzzing with the events of the day. The music we'd created, the obstacles we'd overcome, the way Caleb had looked at me it all swirled together in a dizzying mix of emotions.

But then I walked into the house and saw my parents at the dinner table, their faces all serious and grim. And just like that, reality came crashing back down. The warm glow of band practice faded, replaced by a cold knot of dread in my stomach.

"Liam, sit down, we need to talk" my dad said, his voice leaving no room for argument. He was still in his work clothes, his tie loosened but still hanging around his neck. It was a reminder of the long hours he put in at the office, all for our family's future. Our future. My future.

Not this again, but I slid into my seat anyway, my stomach already twisting into knots. "About what?"

Mom cleared her throat, folding her hands primly on the table. Her reading glasses were perched on top of her head, a half-finished crossword puzzle visible at her elbow. In another life, she might have pursued her passion for literature, but she'd put that aside to raise me. "We want to know as to why you've been spending so much time with these new friends of yours. Particularly that Caleb boy. "

I felt a hot flush creep up my neck at the mention of Caleb's name. "What about him? He's a good guy, Mom. We're just working on a project together for the talent show."

Dad's eyebrows shot up so high, they nearly disappeared into his hairline. "Talent show? Since when do you have time for frivolous things like that?"

I gritted my teeth, trying to keep my cool. "It's not frivolous, Dad. It's important to me."

"More important than your studies?" Mom asked, her voice sharp. But beneath the sharpness, I could hear a note of genuine concern. She reached out, her hand hovering over mine for a moment before retreating. "More important than your future?"

I wanted to scream. It was the same old argument, the same old song and dance. They just didn't get it, and they never would. But looking at their faces, I could see the worry etched in the lines around their eyes, the fear that I was throwing away everything they'd worked so hard to give me.

"Why can't it be both?" I said, trying to keep my voice level. "Why can't I have music and school? Why do I have to choose?"

Dad slammed his hand down on the table, making the dishes rattle. His face was flushed, a vein throbbing in his temple. "Because that's not how the real world works, Liam! You think you can just chase some silly dream and everything will work out? Life doesn't work that way!"

I felt my own temper rising, hot and fierce. "It's not a silly dream! And Caleb's not a bad influence, he's my friend! Why can't you just be happy for me for once?"

Mom's face hardened, her lips pressing into a thin line. But her eyes… for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of something there. Understanding? Regret? "Watch your tone, young man. We're just trying to look out for your best interests."

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. "My best interests? Or yours?" I pushed back from the table, my chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I'm done with this conversation. I'm going to my room. "

Dad stood up too, his face red with anger. But beneath the anger, I could see fear. Fear for me, for my future. "Don't you walk away from us, Liam! We're not finished here!"

But I was already halfway up the stairs, my vision blurring with hot, angry tears. I slammed my bedroom door behind me, pressing my back against it and sliding to the floor.

I felt like I was suffocating, like the walls were closing in around me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. All I could feel was the overwhelming pressure, the weight of my parents' expectations crushing me from all sides.

I didn't know how long I sat there, crying silent tears and trying to pull myself together. But eventually, I dragged myself off the floor and over to my bed, collapsing onto it with a shuddering sigh. All I knew was that everything hurt - my head, my heart, my whole damn life.

I rolled over onto my back, staring up at the ceiling as my parents' voices drifted up from downstairs. They were arguing again, and I didn't have to strain my ears to hear what it was about.

"He's spending too much time on that nonsense!" my dad shouted, his voice sharp with anger. "He's going to throw his whole future away if we don't put a stop to it!"

"It's just a phase," my mom replied, but she sounded tired, defeated. "He'll grow out of it eventually."

Then, softer, almost too quiet for me to hear: "But what if we're pushing him too hard, Ellis? What if we're driving him away?"

There was a long pause, and when my dad spoke again, his voice was lower, heavy with a weariness I'd never heard before. "I don't know, Maria. I don't want him to struggle like we did. I want him to have opportunities we never had."

"I know," my mom said softly. "But maybe we need to trust him more. To listen to what he wants."

I lay there, frozen, hardly daring to breathe. Was this real? Were they actually considering my side of things ?

But then my dad's voice hardened again. "No. No, we can't let him throw everything away on a pipe dream. We have to stay firm on this."

I felt my heart sink, any hope of understanding evaporating like mist in the sun. I wanted to march downstairs and scream at my parents until I was blue in the face. To make them understand that music wasn't just some hobby or phase for me - it was my life, my everything. But I knew it would be like talking to a brick wall. They'd never listen, never even try to see things from my perspective.

So I just lay there, staring at the ceiling and trying to ignore the way their voices kept rising, the way the tension in the house seemed to thicken with every passing second.

And through it all, there was only one thing on my mind. One person, really. It was crazy, the way I couldn't stop thinking about him. The way his smile made my heart do backflips, the way his laugh seemed to chase away all the darkness and make everything feel okay again.

I'd never felt this way about anyone before. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once, like standing on the edge of a cliff and not knowing whether to jump or run away. But the more time we spent together, the harder it was to ignore the truth. I was falling for him, hard and fast and completely. And I had no idea what to do about it.

As I lay there, torn between frustration with my parents and the confusing whirlwind of feelings for Caleb, I realized something. No matter what happened, no matter how hard things got, I couldn't give up on my music. It was the one thing that made me feel truly alive, truly myself. And whether my parents understood or not, whether these feelings for Caleb led anywhere or not, I had to stay true to that part of myself.