A/N I was recently having an interesting discussion with Bubblelina15 when she told me about a comment she'd read in an interview about Bridgit having the voice of an angel or something like that. So we decided to each write a one shot around that statement. Again this is a writing challenge. Here is mine story. Be on the look out for Bubblelina15's as well. Read, enjoy and tell us what you think. Remember criticism is never constructive but feedback is.

This story is for fun and not intended to be profitable.

Oh and that's Latin at the end- "to be continued elsewhere"

The Voice

He's brain was a jumble of conflicting emotions as Wen scuffed his way down the crushed stone driveway. School, detention, Sydney, and his dad all weighed him down so that his chest felt like it was being crushed. But on the other hand, detention had brought an experience he's never expected. It had been fun jamming with those other kids. Who knew that so much talent could be packed into one room at the same time for punishment? He was disappointed that every one of the others had declined Ms. Reznick's Rising Star suggestion so quickly. That could have been fun too.

His thoughts drifted to each of the other kids, recognizing each of them as quirks that melded well to create magic.

Charlie was the drummer who's every look and move screamed freshman. Naïve and gawky, he was fresh meat for the school bullies. The way he handled the drums, though, left no doubt he's been playing for a long time and had an innate understanding of rhythm.

Mo Wen recognized from having seen her hanging out with Scott and Ray, the prince and king of Mesa High. He knew she was sophomore, an overachiever and also had known before the spontaneous jam session that she was a classical musician. Today's informal recital just proved that even the classically trained could rock out.

Stella had been the unknown; a new student that made her first impression an unforgettable one. Her first day of school and she disrupts a school assembly (no complaints from him, mind you) by standing on the bleachers and inciting the student body to revolt against "the establishment" because of a shirt for which she ends up serving a detention. Priceless. It figured that she would play the guitar, too.

The biggest surprise had been Olivia…

"Hey buddy, we're going out for a ride. Wanna come?" So lost in thought about his surprising afternoon was he that he didn't notice his family, and Sydney, standing in the dooryard with a trio of the horses saddled. His father looked at him expectantly as he finished tightening the girth of his sister's bay gelding.

"I don't like to ride" Wen wasn't sure where the words came from. They certainly weren't true and they all knew it.

Georgie called him on it, "Yes you do," she said in her best annoying-know-it-all little sister voice.

Her tone kicked in his obstinate side; unable to stop himself he leaned over patronizingly, anger building in his voice as he continued to argue "No I don't."

"Come on Wen, since when don't you like to ride your horse?" His father stopping the argument before it could escalate further.

Wen didn't say anything as he scowled at his father but turned his glare pointedly at Sydney before dropping his head and turned away. Feeling stupid and irritated he headed for the front door.

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Several hours later Wen lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had been so determined to block out everything irritating him, he's completed all his homework, and even read a little ahead in history and English just to have the excuse to avoid his family during dinner. But his excuses to keep busy were gone, having completed all his work twenty minutes before, and with another hour left before he should be getting to bed he'd been laying on his bed mentally composing chords and melodies while attempting to add lyrics. He knew song lyrics weren't his strongest talent and each time he tried to ad-lib them he lost his melody and started hearing beats, and his song becoming a rap.

'How did she do it?' he wondered, his thoughts turning to once more to Olivia. He'd been in school with the quiet blond for nearly 11 years but hadn't spent much time with or even thinking about her. He knew she was shy and a little timid. He remembered her being sick on stage back in first grade but until today, when she had scolded him for laughing at the memory; he hadn't realized how much anxiety could affect her.

He finally understood how little else he knew of this girl that he'd practically grown up with. He, as well as most of their class, knew she lived with her grandmother and that her mother had passed away years before. No one knew anything about her father. He remembered once in their early years of junior high that he'd helped her briefly. She'd fallen and he'd lent a hand to her despite the jeers of their classmates. He remembered looking into her deep brown eyes and for the briefest of moments, drowning in them. But that was the extent of the time he'd actually spent near her or even really looking at her until today.

He could feel himself being drawn to Olivia. She was beautiful. He'd sort of known it before though only now did he acknowledged it. He wanted to see her smile again like she did this afternoon while they jammed in the music room. Seeing her relaxed and goofy was so different than the cautious book mouse that usually perched on the edge of her seat. During lunch periods she always seemed ready to bolt if anyone looked at her. Seeing her trip on her desk leg or bumping into stage props and laughing with the others had been amusing. In a small way he was disappointed that she hadn't done more with him than make eye contact and gesture for him to put on the hat from the piano top while they fooled around. But, still, that smile she flashed his way, it went all the way into her eyes and pulled at him.

When she'd first started singing he was so surprised he'd almost stopped playing. Her lyrics were light and fun though meaningful all at the same time, perfect for the moment. That she seemed to be making it up on the spot was astounding! Her voice was compelling; clear, sweet, delicate yet, with a steel edge, strong, deep and lower than he'd expected. She had power in her voice. He wanted to hear her sing again.

A knock on the door pulled Wen from his musings as his father interrupted his thoughts of Olivia for the second time that day.

"Hey pal, we need to talk," his father said as he entered the room, sitting on the foot of the bed and holding out the sandwich plate he'd brought with him.

Wen pulled himself up to lean against his headboard, staring at the plate deciding if he should give in. With a sigh he reached out and took it. He didn't want the conversation that was coming. He wasn't ready for it. He honestly didn't know why he was feeling that way he was but until he'd figured it out he really didn't want to talk about it, especially with his family.

"Wen, Sydney told me what happened in your history class," his father shook his head slightly, "I know you were embarrassed but really, lashing out at your teacher? Buddy, this needs to stop."

"Dad you don't even know how humiliating it is to have your dad's much younger girlfriend walk into your class! And why didn't she check the folder she took before she left?" Wen argued around a mouthful of sandwich.

"You could have checked the folders yourself before we all left, but you didn't either. Blaming this entirely on Sydney isn't going to fly," his father told him sternly.

Wen dropped his gaze to his plate and began picking at the chips his father had served with his sandwich.

"Wen, we need to figure this out. As far as I'm concerned Sydney isn't going anywhere. You need to accept that. How I can help you to accept it?"

Wen didn't respond or even look up from his plate. He couldn't. He didn't even know how to respond to that. He didn't even know why he really felt so much resentment toward Sydney herself except that it sometimes felt like his father was trying to use her to replace is mother in his life. Maybe he should be angrier with his father but it was just easier to blame Sydney. He could feel his throat tightening and his eyes start to burn with his frustration.

"Wen-" his father started to speak again, his tone tinged with the same frustration Wen felt.

Wen cleared the unshed tears from his throat, interrupting his father. "Dad can we not talk about this, please," he couldn't help the slight desperation in his voice with the last word. He began taking deep breaths regaining some control while his father studied him.

"Do you have any more detentions this week?" His father's voice was softer, somewhat resigned.

"No, it was just this afternoon," The word detention sent Wen's thoughts back to this very afternoon once again. The faces of his fellow detainees flitted thru his mind and settled on the dimpled smile of Olivia. Unbidden, her song and her voice filled his ears.

"Well, try not to get into any more trouble. Ok? You finished?" his father asked gesturing to the nearly empty plate sitting forgotten on the bed. Wen nodded and vaguely watched his father pick it up as he stood and head to the door. His thoughts were swirling around bouncing from the music he and the others had made to the voice that pulled it all together to make it complete.

"Dad," he called out before he realized it. His father turned back expectantly. "I heard the voice of an angel today."

~alibi continuari~