He sighed, and sat down at the desk chair. "What will I do? What will I do?" he mumbled in a sing-song voice. Just like that, a song popped into his head.
He began to fill the page with words, tapping his foot and humming along. He jotted out some chords and a few rhythm patterns in the margins.
At last, he admired his work. It occured to him that he had well over 5 stanzas, and that it fit Mr. Smith's guidelines to a tee.
"YESSS!!!!" he shouted, jumping to his feet.
Just then, he hurried out of the room, notebook in hand. He figured that if he was lucky, he could catch a bus back to his old neighborhood, and drop in on Skye. She's gonna love this, he thought, giving his notebook a giant smackaroo.
Skye bounded down the staircase, hurrying to get to the door. Someone had been pounding on it for the past few seconds, and wouldn't stop.
She swung open the door. There stood Zac, pummeling the doorbell for all his worth. She cocked an eyebrow at him; he realized she was giving him odd looks, and grinned sheepishly.
"What do you have for me?" she asked, nodding to the notebook.
"My poem," he said proudly. She smiled brightly.
"Come in," she nearly pulled him in the door, as excited as he was to read this creation a la Zac.
They sat down on the couch, and he opened it to the now-full page. She smiled. "It's a song, too, I see."
"What gave it away?" he asked.
"Could it be the giant 'A', 'E', 'Bm' and squiggly notes written all over the place?" she joked. He smiled.
"But, it's a song that meets the need, so it'll have to work," he said.
She began to read it, scrutinously. The words were easy to read with Zac's large, round handwriting. She smiled when she had finished.
"Another one of those 'I'm confused, somebody help me' songs, huh?" she said.
"You know me too well," he said, leaning over her lap and cheesing up at her. She pushed him off with a laugh.
"I know," she retorted. "That's what scares me."
"As long as you don't start thinking like me, you'll be JUUUUUST fine," he commented. She nodded agreeably, humour glinting in her eyes.
"Do you want something to snack on?" she asked.
"Nah, I just ran by to show this to you," he said. "I need to get home. Can I use your phone?"
"Nah," she said. "Don't stress over that. I'll give you a ride."
"Wouldja?" he asked. She was already grabbing her keys.
"Great!" he said, following her out the front door.
They jumped into her car, and she turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life.
