Sydney awoke with a start. The cabin was unfamiliar for a moment, before
she remembered. And smiled. The last night she and Michael had made out
until almost midnight, when she had kicked him into his own room. That had
taken strength; he was such a good kisser.
Sydney smiled and climbed out of bed, stretching. She hummed absentmindedly as she made her way to a small bathroom to brush her teeth.
Wiping her eyes, the tall girl made her way outside, and began to run. It was still early, so she figured she had time. After a few miles, she stretched again and walked into the studio.
Instead of a piano like hers, a small upright stood in a corner. A drum set was stacked in another corner. Various guitars lined the room. A switchboard was off to the side, and a microphone was in the middle.
She eagerly shut the door and sat at the piano. Although she had taken lessons all through junior high and high school, she still wasn't at her best. Sydney had found her talent in writing music, and playing fun and fast pieces.
After playing a few scales, she broke into Linus and Lucy. It was her favorite to play. She slowed down and played her own version of Your Song, her personal favorite ballad. Then she began to play her own pieces.
After a few songs, Sydney heard a sound and whirled around. Standing in the doorway in all his early morning glory was Michael, scratching his head. He gave her a groggy smile and went to sit next to her on the bench.
"So." Sydney said, placing her hands on the keys. "How am I supposed to learn this song?"
He sighed and smiled at her. "Give me fifteen minutes, and I'll sing it for you." With that he got up and left. She heard the shower turn on, and after a few minutes, turn off again.
'Concentrate.' She mentally told herself. 'He expects you to be really good.'
Her train of thought was broken as Michael entered the room. "Okay, down to business. You play the song once through, I'll make a recording of me singing, and you can spend the rest of the day memorizing it." Sydney didn't bother telling him that her mind worked in a way that allowed her to memorize the second she heard it.
So she played. Then he sang, in a tonal if not beautiful voice. The words fit perfectly. They told of a breakup story, of a woman on her own. Michael left soon after to get food, and Sydney got to spend the rest of the day listening to his voice.
The next morning, he woke up before her and had a good breakfast going. "I had no idea you could cook! You really don't seem the type." She laughed in surprise."
"Hey, I told you I was French. My mother made me learn. And my dad. my dad was a really good cook himself. I can make a mean steak," he spoke as he stuffed some cheese in his mouth. Sydney noted the use of past time when talking about his father, but didn't mention it. In no time it was ready, a steaming plate of eggs and bacon and toast. They both wolfed it down, declared it good, and made their way into the studio.
Sydney was nervous. Shaking with it. Michael had noticed this and was currently cracking up over it. He had no idea how crucial this was for her new life.
'Calm down. Breathe. God, take control of yourself! It's only a song.' She took her own advice and relaxed her body. The song could be directly related to a situation with Noah Hicks; Sydney could relate.
"Okay. Now, just pour yourself into the song." Michael chuckled. "And don't worry, you won't completely stink. I promise."
So she sat at the piano, took a deep breath. Sydney played the first few chords and began to sing.
I spent years and all of this time
Thinking I was better off, 'cause you were mine
You always said it was your way or the highway
So I shiftin' my life into drive
I'm getting out, kissin' the past goodbye
Like Toby said "How do you like me now?"
This conversation has run dry
And I keep telling myself
Oooh, oooh, oooh,
There's more to me than you
Oooh, oooh, don't underestimate what I can do
Well, I'm alright, it's okay, I know I'll make it through
'Cause there's more to me than you.
I'm not sayin' I'm battered and bruised
But I might as well be with the words you use
I believe in myself and that makes me stronger
Things change and so have I
I'm gonna make hay while the sun still shines
You can clip my wings, I'm still gonna fly
I'm on my own and I'm on my way
And I keep telling myself
Oooh, oooh, oooh,
There's more to me than you
Oooh, oooh, don't underestimate what I can do
Well, I'm alright, it's okay, I know I'll make it through
'Cause there's more to me than you.
There was always something that meant more to you than me
And I'm just sorry it's taken this for you to see
Oooh, oooh, oooh,
There's more to me than you
Oooh, oooh, don't underestimate what I can do
Well, I'm alright, it's okay, I know I'll make it through
'Cause there's more to me than you.
Michael's mouth had hit the floor by the end of the song. Her voice was haunting, soulful. He had uncovered something powerful.
Something perfect for his job.
"I'm sorry," she spoke whispered. "Um, you did a great job writing it, so if you want a different."
He cut her off with a huge hug and a mind-blowing kiss. He broke it off breathlessly, and grinned at her. "That was. amazing. Amazing. We. we have to get you to record more songs! Your voice is. indescribable. This could really be something!" He pulled her into another kiss, but she pulled away.
"No, this couldn't be something. I'm sorry, but. no. Just no." She gasped, her eyes widened in fear. She pushed herself out of his arms, turned, and ran outside into the snow-covered landscape.
Her stressed mind was panicked. She was supposed to be just as normal as the next girl, not special in any way. Publicity could. would kill her.
She kept running, quickly exiting the ranch and finding a pay phone. A cab picked her up and dropped her off at the airport. She left Montana without looking back.
Sydney smiled and climbed out of bed, stretching. She hummed absentmindedly as she made her way to a small bathroom to brush her teeth.
Wiping her eyes, the tall girl made her way outside, and began to run. It was still early, so she figured she had time. After a few miles, she stretched again and walked into the studio.
Instead of a piano like hers, a small upright stood in a corner. A drum set was stacked in another corner. Various guitars lined the room. A switchboard was off to the side, and a microphone was in the middle.
She eagerly shut the door and sat at the piano. Although she had taken lessons all through junior high and high school, she still wasn't at her best. Sydney had found her talent in writing music, and playing fun and fast pieces.
After playing a few scales, she broke into Linus and Lucy. It was her favorite to play. She slowed down and played her own version of Your Song, her personal favorite ballad. Then she began to play her own pieces.
After a few songs, Sydney heard a sound and whirled around. Standing in the doorway in all his early morning glory was Michael, scratching his head. He gave her a groggy smile and went to sit next to her on the bench.
"So." Sydney said, placing her hands on the keys. "How am I supposed to learn this song?"
He sighed and smiled at her. "Give me fifteen minutes, and I'll sing it for you." With that he got up and left. She heard the shower turn on, and after a few minutes, turn off again.
'Concentrate.' She mentally told herself. 'He expects you to be really good.'
Her train of thought was broken as Michael entered the room. "Okay, down to business. You play the song once through, I'll make a recording of me singing, and you can spend the rest of the day memorizing it." Sydney didn't bother telling him that her mind worked in a way that allowed her to memorize the second she heard it.
So she played. Then he sang, in a tonal if not beautiful voice. The words fit perfectly. They told of a breakup story, of a woman on her own. Michael left soon after to get food, and Sydney got to spend the rest of the day listening to his voice.
The next morning, he woke up before her and had a good breakfast going. "I had no idea you could cook! You really don't seem the type." She laughed in surprise."
"Hey, I told you I was French. My mother made me learn. And my dad. my dad was a really good cook himself. I can make a mean steak," he spoke as he stuffed some cheese in his mouth. Sydney noted the use of past time when talking about his father, but didn't mention it. In no time it was ready, a steaming plate of eggs and bacon and toast. They both wolfed it down, declared it good, and made their way into the studio.
Sydney was nervous. Shaking with it. Michael had noticed this and was currently cracking up over it. He had no idea how crucial this was for her new life.
'Calm down. Breathe. God, take control of yourself! It's only a song.' She took her own advice and relaxed her body. The song could be directly related to a situation with Noah Hicks; Sydney could relate.
"Okay. Now, just pour yourself into the song." Michael chuckled. "And don't worry, you won't completely stink. I promise."
So she sat at the piano, took a deep breath. Sydney played the first few chords and began to sing.
I spent years and all of this time
Thinking I was better off, 'cause you were mine
You always said it was your way or the highway
So I shiftin' my life into drive
I'm getting out, kissin' the past goodbye
Like Toby said "How do you like me now?"
This conversation has run dry
And I keep telling myself
Oooh, oooh, oooh,
There's more to me than you
Oooh, oooh, don't underestimate what I can do
Well, I'm alright, it's okay, I know I'll make it through
'Cause there's more to me than you.
I'm not sayin' I'm battered and bruised
But I might as well be with the words you use
I believe in myself and that makes me stronger
Things change and so have I
I'm gonna make hay while the sun still shines
You can clip my wings, I'm still gonna fly
I'm on my own and I'm on my way
And I keep telling myself
Oooh, oooh, oooh,
There's more to me than you
Oooh, oooh, don't underestimate what I can do
Well, I'm alright, it's okay, I know I'll make it through
'Cause there's more to me than you.
There was always something that meant more to you than me
And I'm just sorry it's taken this for you to see
Oooh, oooh, oooh,
There's more to me than you
Oooh, oooh, don't underestimate what I can do
Well, I'm alright, it's okay, I know I'll make it through
'Cause there's more to me than you.
Michael's mouth had hit the floor by the end of the song. Her voice was haunting, soulful. He had uncovered something powerful.
Something perfect for his job.
"I'm sorry," she spoke whispered. "Um, you did a great job writing it, so if you want a different."
He cut her off with a huge hug and a mind-blowing kiss. He broke it off breathlessly, and grinned at her. "That was. amazing. Amazing. We. we have to get you to record more songs! Your voice is. indescribable. This could really be something!" He pulled her into another kiss, but she pulled away.
"No, this couldn't be something. I'm sorry, but. no. Just no." She gasped, her eyes widened in fear. She pushed herself out of his arms, turned, and ran outside into the snow-covered landscape.
Her stressed mind was panicked. She was supposed to be just as normal as the next girl, not special in any way. Publicity could. would kill her.
She kept running, quickly exiting the ranch and finding a pay phone. A cab picked her up and dropped her off at the airport. She left Montana without looking back.