Tenney

Find Your Voice

Tenney is stuck on her new song. Days after Ellie Cale invited her to perform at the Mockingbird Records showcase, she still has only two lines in her journal, “This song’s for you, my love. You watch over me from above.” Rereading them on the ride to school in the family’s food truck, she winces at how sugary and generic they sound and crosses them out with a thick black line. Maybe it isn’t a love song, even though the melody sounds like one. Her favorite songs are always about heartbreak, but what does she know about heartbreak? She’s only in sixth grade.

Aubrey doesn’t help, blasting “Star Like Me” through her earbuds and belting the chorus off-key until Mason begs Mom to make her stop. At a red light, Mom reaches back and takes the phone, telling Aubrey she’s maxed out her Belle Starr time. Restless without music, Aubrey leans over to read Tenney’s journal, and Tenney yanks it against her chest, insisting she’s writing something even though her stomach twists.

Jaya promises Tenney’s parents will say yes to the showcase because they already know how talented she is. Mom’s reminder about the Jamboree meeting pulls Tenney out of her head. She’d forgotten completely, and the song has to wait.

After school, the Jamboree committee walks with Ms. Carter to the senior center, where Tenney finds Portia settled in the same armchair by the window and shares news of Ellie Cale’s invitation to the showcase at the Bluebird. Jaya hugs her before she can finish downplaying it.

Settling in next to Portia, Tenney notices calluses on her hand like her own guitar-worn fingers and asks if she plays. Portia grabs a carved walking stick and leads her to a small book-lined study, easing into a leather chair and nodding toward a guitar case in the corner. Feeling shy, Tenney opens it to find a polished mahogany guitar, gold inlay sparkling around the sound hole and frets. She tunes it, works through a few chords on strings that ring light and silvery, and slides into her unfinished melody. Portia listens with her eyes closed, tapping a finger in time, and guesses correctly that Tenney wrote it herself, saying she plays it like the tune is already part of her.

Tenney admits she’s stalled on the lyrics. Portia explains that a good song is always about something that matters to the person writing it, and Tenney probably already knows what hers is about, she just hasn’t found it yet. Handing the guitar back, Tenney asks if Portia has written songs herself, and Portia says she has, long ago, then turns the questions back on Tenney, drawing out details about the Tri-Stars, the showcase invitation, and her worry that her parents will call her too young. Portia dismisses that flatly. Age has nothing to do with it, only readiness does. And readiness happens the moment Tenney finds her voice, figuring out exactly what she wants to say through her music, something hers alone that nobody can take from her.

Portia’s words stick with Tenney on the walk back to school. Jaya notices her drifting into a daydream and nudges her, asking if she’s okay, and Tenney confesses she’s stuck because she still doesn’t know what she wants her new song to say. Jaya suggests setting it aside and starting something else, the way stepping away from a tricky design always helps her come back to it clearer. Tenney realizes she’s right; she won’t find her voice with just one song.