A/N: I'm posting this this morning because I'm going to the mall straight after school and then having a friend stay over; long-story short I won't have time tonight. It's a little random, but I like it. (A lot of the music mentioned are my personal favourites.) Hope you enjoy!


Her iPod is not what she thinks most people would expect.

There's minimal heavy metal and the amount of depressing, suicidal, soft rock is moderate. She's got a lot of classics; she loves Jimmy Hendrix and Led Zeppelin, and she has every Beatles album. (The latter possibly heavily influenced by a certain wheelchair-bound friend of hers.) She has The Foundations, the Eagles; Genesis is one of her all-time favorites. She has a collection of Billy Joel, Billy Idol, Elton John and Phil Collins; the latter's solo work as amazing as his Genesis material (particularly the Tarzan soundtrack). Chicago, Boston, meat Loaf . . . she's got it all.

Along with all of the above, she has her fair share new and not-so-new modern music. Everything from Lifehouse, Hedley, and The Fray to Sara Bareilles, Vanessa Carlton and Matt Nathanson. She also has a large spot in her heart reserved for country, the genre she grew up listening to and belting out. The classics, like Garth Brooks, Tim McGraw, Trisha Yearwood, and Toby Keith; as well as the newer hits: Kenny Chesney, Brad Paisley, Aaron Lines, Keith Urban, Jason Blaine, Carrie Underwood, Taylor Swift, Dean Brody, Jason Aldean, and Deric Ruttan.

She loves music; music with lyrics she can sing along to. She loves the feelings it can evoke deep within her and the way her heart meets the beat of the song. She loves the feel of her iPod in her pocket and her earphones in her –

"Miss Cohen-Chang!"

She startles at the angry voice, moving to removes her earphones from her ears. She opens her eyes to meet those of Mr. Demian, her History teacher. Her cheeks flush red at the embarrassment of being caught; again.

He holds out his hand, no words passing between his lips. She hands it over without protest, no explanation needed. (They've done this a couple – read: a lot – of times.)

She sighs as he walks back to the front of the classroom, droning on and on about the battle of something or other, in which what's-his-name was declared a hero, on such-and-such a day. (God, she hates History.

She looks up at the clock, not bothering to open up her binder and take notes. All she can hear is the useless babble she always hears when his mouth opens. She watches the second hand tick far too slowly for her liking. Only forty-two minutes until lunch and the return of her lifeline.


Please review!