Episode 2
I shrug my knapsack higher on my shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief. The lecture felt like it would never end. What made it worse was the feeling of everyone’s eyes on me when I took my seat. Today marks one week since my parents forced me to attend school in person. I cringe at the memory of the conversation.
“I don’t see why I need to,” I sighed, folding my arms across my chest. “I’ve been doing well online.”
“Emery, would you listen to me for once in your life?!” my mother snapped. I jumped, eyeing her with wary surprise. My father stood off to the side, his mouth set in a thin line, glancing between us.
“You can’t keep hiding from the world. People think you’re crazy.” Her voice leveled, but her glare remained sharp.
“I don’t care what they think,” I muttered.
“But I do!” Her voice jumped an octave, the veins in her neck bulging. Mom didn’t have to say it out loud—I understood. I was embarrassing her. While all my cousins were socially comfortable, succeeding in school, and bringing home significant others, I sat in my room strumming my guitar, hoping my next song would be a hit.
“I’ll go,” I whispered, standing. “So that I won’t embarrass you any further.”
“Emery—”
But I was already out the door.
“Is he new?” someone whispers, pulling me from my recollection.
“Some say he was online and—shh! There he is!”
I stalk past the girls, heading for my locker. The hall bustles with students, but I can feel the weight of their stares—some curious, some judgmental. My stomach sinks as I approach my locker. I freeze for a second, noticing the gold numbers engraved on the metal.Fumbling with the lock, I feel more and more eyes on me. I can practically hear the murmurs behind me.
“Oh my gosh!” someone gasps. “He’s one of the Eight!”
“Really?”
“No way…”
I yank the lock open and shove my music binder inside, slamming the door before the whispers swallow me whole. I don’t look back as I hurry away.
The music room is dark and quiet—just the way I like it. The polished hardwood floors gleam in the low light, and the equipment is top-tier: high-end sound systems, mixing boards, and shiny instruments lined up against the walls.
My guitar sits in the corner, its sleek, custom body reflecting the light as I gently lift it from its stand. I strum absentmindedly, feeling the tension in my shoulders melt away. I didn’t pick this guitar because of the brand or its price—it’s the sound, the tone that matters. But I know people notice the name on the headstock.
We don’t create music to please others, Professor Charles had said earlier today. We create music to tell of our sorrows and pains, our experiences and experiences to be.
Maybe it’s time I stop making music about feelings I’ve never experienced—happiness, love, understanding. Maybe it’s time to create something that describes how I really feel.
I pull a folded paper from my pocket, scanning the fading words. Ever since the family reunion, when I first wrote the poem, I’ve come back to it again and again, adding more each time. An idea strikes me as I look over the lines. It’s long enough to be a full song.
Balancing the paper on my lap, I strum, searching for a progression that satisfies me. My eyes close, and Grace’s face floats into my mind—her red hair shimmering in the sunlight. My thoughts drift to the faded Polaroid tucked in my car’s visor, the one I’ve kept for four years. The leather seats, the expensive dashboard—everything in my car is the best my parents’ money could buy, but none of it is as valuable as that Polaroid.
“Nous avions l’habitude de capturer des moments…”
I surprise myself by singing the first line in French. Maybe it’s better that way. People rarely bother to look up the meaning of foreign lyrics. The chord progression flows naturally, and for once, I feel like I’m writing something honest.
A piano joins in, and I don’t stop playing. Soon, drums and a synth pad fill the room.
“Papi!”
Someone smacks my shoulder playfully. “It sounds good, but maybe the guitar makes it a bit messy, no?”
I stop strumming, turning to my bandmate.
“Oui, it is a bit messy.”
“Kill the guitar and get a bass, and the problem will be solved,” Noah suggests, fiddling with the synth.
“Where’s our bass player at?” Malachi asks.
“Here.”
Jaemin strolls in, bass slung over his shoulder, his voice low and nonchalant.
“What are the lyrics?” Santiago snatches the paper from my lap. I reach for it, but it’s too late—the paper passes from hand to hand. Haneul is the last to read it, his dark eyes scanning the lines before handing it back.
“Gwenchana?” he asks.
I nod, shoving the paper into my back pocket.
“You don’t sound okay to me,” Elias mumbles, setting up the mic stand.
“What he means to say”—Asher glares at Elias before turning to me—“is your songs are usually about… y’know, sunshine and rainbows.”
“That’s not him.”
Jaemin’s deep voice cuts through the quiet. His gaze settles on me before moving to the others.
“Those songs aren’t real. He writes them for the grades.”
The room falls silent. Heat floods my face. Jaemin always sees right through me. Lately, it feels like everyone does—my parents, my friends… myself.
Frustration coils in my chest. I don’t want to do this right now.
“Excusez-moi,” I mutter, pushing past them and leaving the room.
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139,045 Literary Works • 672,398 Reviews
What an excellent second episode for the series!
I love how this one feels so drastically different from the first. We are immediately greeted with an argument with his parents. I really hate that they (possibly mostly his mom, as his dad was silent?) feel embarrassed by him. That’s a rough feeling. With this scene, I also really like how once he agrees, his mom seems to attempt backtracking her words. Very real.
You really captured what it’s like to be a new kid in school. People staring and whispering as if you can’t see or hear them. This line is absolutely my favorite: “Maybe it’s time I stop making music about feelings I’ve never experienced—happiness, love, understanding. Maybe it’s time to create something that describes how I really feel.” It just feels so real and relatable for an artist of any kind.
The line about Emery being one of “the eight” is very intriguing. I’m excited to get more context and lore for this statement.
I love the first line of the song being in French, as well! It’s such a pretty language. However, I think having so many people introduced in quick succession makes the ending just a tad clunky. However, I do like that one of them calls him out on most of his other songs not being “real.”
The cliffhanger on this one doesn’t feel as intense as the prior one, but it’s still an excellent ending! I’m looking forward to reading the next part.
Keep up the great work, and I hope you have a great day/night!
Hello! I'm Milesperhour (again), here to review your amazing second chapter!!!
While the first chapter focused on establishing the basic plot, I feel like this one really focuses on character development, by putting the mc into a new situation to show how he reacts. This chapter has a lot of really great writing, and really started to get me invested in the protagonist! I also like the fact that it uses French. No particular reason, just thought it was cool. At the end, you also introduce new characters, and I'm excited to see how they'll be developed in future chapters!
My favorite line is definitely "Maybe it’s time I stop making music about feelings I’ve never experienced—happiness, love, understanding. Maybe it’s time to create something that describes how I really feel." As an artist myself (though I'm a writer obviously), this is incredibly relatable- sometimes the way to really elevate your work is to draw from your own unique experiences, instead of trying to create something universally appealing but inauthentic.
Overall, solid second chapter! Excited to see what happens next!
-Milesperhour133
Hello, Milesperhour (again, lol). Thanks again for the review and for following the story as I post it.
Hey there, Cheerio! This is Alex, dropping by a review. I read the first chapter of this series you wrote as well, but I felt oddly tounge-tied and couldn't organise my thoughts on it that well. So I thought not to knock your work out of the Green Room, considering you might get genuinely better reviews than what I could have come with. But this chapter seemed to have much more material that I could analyse, so I decided to pick it up for today's review. Hope you don't mind, let's get started.
I like how it starts with a significant transition for the protagonist. The reader is surprised with an argument, right off the bat. The scene really us an idea about the characters of the parents, how they want the lead to go out more and be social. To encourage this, they wish him to switch to offline school- an idea the protagonist himself isn't much fond of.
This line captures the conflict so well. The protagonist has caved to his parents' wishes does not wish to endure their company any longer than necessary. It reflects poorly on the mother, how she's insisting on something he clearly doesn't want to do. She priorities fitting into society over her son's wishes- I guess this explains why the protagonist feels so hostile from his family. We saw how annoying his cousins could be to him, but to have your own mother not care enough is so much worse.
It's impressive how accurately you depict the experience of being new in school- everyone's gossiping about you and tons of rumors are already going around.
Amusing suspense building here. The protagonist is somehow special, but we're not immediately revealed how. I'm eager to find out what the later chapters shall reveal about this, it seems significant to protagonist's character.
I must admit I'm not versed with knowledge about guitars or any other musical instruments for that matter, but you clearly appear to know what you've talking about! The details make the story all the real.
I like how personsal these lines feel, introducing us to the way the protagonist thinks. He's more about actual purpose than superficial looks- certainly an admirable trait to have in the lead!
Even as a writer, they were so resonating. They're generic and can be applied to varying creative fields, allowing an entire spectrum of readers to relate. The phrasing and how beautifully you capture the essence of art is impeccable.
It's nice to see the narrative revisit the few lines of a poem we read in the previous chapter. I loved how you developed on something you had already introduced us to, creating an inevitable sense of familiarity and connection with the reader. We're again reminded of the importance of someone called Grace, to our protagonist. From how she's presented, it's my guess that she's going to be the love interest later down the storyline.
This part was particularly striking! I think it kills two birds with one stone, in a way. We're told how even the best of his parents' money doesn't win his appreciation. This reveals how much he resents them otherwise, given their tendency to always try to change him instead of showering unconditionally love and support. At the same time, it's stated that the protagonist holds even a polaried of the said girl, dear to his heart. If we go by this, the girl in herself must be priceless to him. The fact that the protagonist bears more affection for Grace than his own family speaks lengths as to how mistreated and unappreciated he feels by them, while also conveying his enormous care for her.
I found the translation of the French lyric to be- "We used to capture moments", but feel free to correct me if you intended it too meant something else. Personally, I find this line quite lovely and perfectly written. I do recommend you to add it under brackets, though, to aid the reader's understanding and make it easy to interpret.
A very theatrical choice to end on an emotional breakdown! It's really interesting to see the protagonist struggle with his identity and shortcomings. He's struggling with his own personality, such a stirring turmoil. I think really shows us his vulnerabilities and helps the reader empathise with him in this hour of a sudden existential crisis. Fabulous writing!
Additionally, here are a few suggestions I'd like to offer, for improvement. Feel free to ignore them though, if you feel the current form fits your narrative better.
I sense a grammar mistake here. Perhaps you wanted to say 'Aren't' instead of 'is'.
To me, these dialogues came across as a bit oddly phrased. Maybe this would work better -
“That’s not the actual him.”
“Those songs aren’t genuine/authentic. He merely/just writes them for the grades.”
Lastly, this was quite the compelling read. The story felt natural in its descriptions and plot. It's really interesting to explore the unaffectionate and frustrated state of the parents, in contrast with the sensitive and misfit character that is our protagonist. There's talk of music, as he leans on it to finally express his bottled thoughts instead of merely writing fiction. There's the coldness he receives from being new in the school halls and his affection for Grace that make the narrative so much more appealing.
Personally, I found myself overwhelmed when the friends arrived. There were just too many names to keep a track for, just out of the blue. I believe they're bound to get more familiar as the story progresses, but I thought I'd just let you know of something that I felt hindered the flow, even if barely. Recalling your description of these being more like 'episodes' from a drama series, I think this chapter was befitting that claim. The previous chapter, I must point out though, felt a little overboard personally. I would've preferred more subtle hints to his cousins being hostile towards him, is all. I think that silence and muffles beneath their breaths would've conveyed and captured their broken relationship much better but again, it's just my personal opinion. I'm anticipating there's is a reason or role of their excessively horrible treatment in the future plot. Looking forward to see how you'll salvage it!
This was a very engrossing read. My absolute pleasure to review it. Hope to read the next episodes very soon, just as you manage to publish them.
Thanks for the review, AlexWrites! I know this episode/chapter might have been a bit much. Thank you for bearing with me. I'll keep your words in mind as I continue to write.