Chapter 1
"Beca?"
She glanced up from the leftover lasagne she was eating for lunch, "Yes Dad."
"You do know there's only a few weeks left of the holidays don't you?" Dr. Mitchell pulled out a chair to sit opposite his daughter at the kitchen table. Beca quickly finished her lunch, shoving a massive bite of lasagne into her mouth as she stood up, "mmmni gknoowm," she replied around the food.
"So you need to decide what you're doing now," he pressed on, tapping his fingers on the table impatiently.
"I'm going to LA to make music," Beca turned around and dropped her plate in the sink before opening the cupboard to her right and grabbing a glass.
"No you're not… yet," he quickly corrected then made an exasperated sound, "Please look at me when I'm speaking to you."
Beca groaned, turning and hopping up to sit on the counter. She glared, "I'm not going to Barden Dad."
"Yes you are. You know the deal."
She recited in monotone, "Graduate high school with good grades, check. Get to go to the music course in the summer, check. Spend at least a year at Barden – I'm not going to get a degree Dad! And then you might consider helping me get to LA, yeah right.
Beca watched her dad carefully, she knew she might have pushed him a bit far this time. She tensed as several emotions passed over his face, finally settling on an extremely grim set of the mouth that she knew meant he was very irritated.
"Rebecca…"
She flinched. She hated that name. Why did her parents had to have called her that? At least her dad only called her that when he was disappointed – oh god! Disappointed was worse than angry – but still.
"…stop sitting on the counter. Stop speaking to me like that and stop insisting you won't go to college," he snapped, then his voice softened, "I'm only trying to help you do the best you can and if the music thing doesn't work out you need a plan B, something to fall back on."
Beca rolled her eyes, "Like a degree."
He nodded.
She slid slowly, grudgingly off the counter top, dragging out the movement as long as possible until her fingertips gave way and gravity won out. She stopped caring about her dad's reaction, "No."
"Beca, please be reasonable."
"Dad, please believe in me for once."
"I do bel…"
"No you don't Dad! That's bullshit! You don't believe in me. You didn't believe me when I got those good grades and graduated, you called the headmaster to check if I'd fucking cheated on my exams! You just want me to get a degree because you don't believe I'm good enough to be a music producer," she yelled, pausing to breathe.
Dr. Mitchell took advantage of the silence, "I do believe you're good enough but the music industry is tough, and you're too emotional. If it doesn't work out you need to have something to use to get back on your feet. I'm scared that if you don't you're going to be spending your days watching dust gather."
"You think I don't know the industry is tough dad? I do. And I'm emotional? At least I'm not heartless!" Beca screamed. Her dad said nothing, shocked to silence. Good, finally getting through, "I'm sorry to be a disappointment but I'm not going to college."
Beca turned, ran out the kitchen and up the stairs. Hot tears streamed down her face as she slammed her bedroom door and flung herself on the bed, burying her face in the pillow. She let out a silent scream as great sobs shook her body. Why did her dad never understand? Mum would understand. Why did she have to be the one to go?
0o0o0
An hour later, and the tears had subsided. Beca sat on her bed staring listlessly out the window, feeling too empty to make music. The clock by her bed read 13:26. Four hours until the step-monster was back and the day would only get more torturous. She sighed, moving to LA wasn't just about making music, it was about having her own life. Independent of the 'parents' who'd only ever tried to stop her from following her dreams and doing what she was passionate about. Beca couldn't wait to stop being dependant on them.
She heard a knock on the door, she ignored it… Then it came again, more insistent this time, "Beca, please may I come in."
"What's wrong with talking through the door?"
"Please Beca… I'm sorry."
She sincerely doubted that. Every apology her dad had ever made to her had been superficial at best, just like this one. Where was the whole part where he said, 'You're right, I should have more faith in you…'? She waited. It didn't come. Oh well, might as well get it over with, "The door's open." You know, because you won't let me have a lock on it.
The door handle turned and Dr. Mitchell strode into her room, stopping at the end of the bed. Beca continued to stare defiantly out the window. If he wanted to talk he could talk.
"Look, the whole reason I brought this up today was because it doesn't have to be a degree. Of course you didn't exactly allow for us to discuss that."
Yeah, that's right, blame Kitchen Escapade No. 47 on me. Obviously none of it is your fault. Beca said nothing.
He continued, "You still have to go to Barden for a year of course, before LA becomes an option but you don't have to get a degree immediately if you really hate school that much."
"Go to college. Don't get a degree. That seems kind of backwards," she refused to look at him.
"Come on Beca, we talked about this. After graduation – the special program Barden offers," he looked at her expectantly.
Beca tried to remember, "Ummm… the special… err, program. Right that, yeah of course."
"You don't remember."
"Yes I do… wait, um," she thought hard. Then something clicked, "The work-experience-slash-job-slash-internship-program-thingy, right?"
"Yes."
"So?"
"So, there's this kind of fair on today for the students who want to take part in this program instead of going to school. So you can see what options there are for what you can do."
Beca finally caved and looked hard at her dad. He looked desperate for her to agree to this. She didn't want to but it couldn't be worse than more school, could it? Perhaps she could carry out his torture a little longer, "So?"
"So, I would like you to go to the fair and see what options there are and pick one."
"An option for a job thingy for a year?"
"Well, up to four years if you want."
"And what's the point of this?"
"Getting qualified for a job – as a back-up plan – that doesn't need a degree but pays more than working at the checkout counter at a supermarket."
"And the deal's the same. I do this for a year then you help me move to LA?"
"For a year or until you're properly qualified at whatever you pick."
Beca thought about it, there were worse options. She could still go to the fair and not pick anything. Besides, she realised as she glance back out the window, if she stayed home he dad would probably make her mow the lawn again, then do the dishes and hoover the entire upstairs. She sighed, "Fine I'll go to the fair."
"Really?"
Beca rolled her eyes, "Yes."
0o0o0
It was an ok day outside, she realised. It was warm but not scorching, sunny but not blinding, the leaves were still green and the pavement had less cracks in it than she remembered. Of course skateboarding to Barden University wasn't what Beca had had in mind but her options were limited.
Option 1: get a lift. No way.
Option 2: Her motorbike. If only her dad would let her take it but no such luck and she'd probably already pushed him enough for one day.
Option 3: dig skateboard out of the back of garage and brush off three years' worth of cobwebs.
Luckily, it seemed that skateboarding was like riding a bike, once you learnt you never forgot. The fact that Beca had never had a bike was irrelevant. It was quite relaxing actually, she realised, skating again, with the light breeze ruffling her wavy brown hair and making her slightly over-sized checked shirt (one of many) billow outwards.
Just thankfully, she'd gotten away without a helmet being forced onto her head, "A motorbike helmet is only kind of cool if you're on a motorbike dad. On a skateboard it looks a) ridiculous and b) like I'm a little kid. Seeing as I'm short enough already I don't need any more help with that."
Was living a ten minute walk away from school a blessing or a curse she wondered as she neared the front gate of the college her dad worked at. Never mind, I'm here now. Beca used her foot to flip the skateboard up into her hand as her midnight blue eyes narrowed, focusing on the sign above the front gate, WELCOME TO BARDEN.
She groaned, rolling her eyes. This place already seemed too cheerful for her. Beca squared her shoulders and walked forwards, muttering "Here goes nothing."
A/N: Thank you for reading, please review. Any suggestions are welcome and please let me know if you ever think there's too much dialogue - I really do try to keep some balance between speech and description, it just doesn't work very often! And quick warning: updates on this will be sporadic at best. But more reviews probably will mean faster updates.
