Tenney

Nothing Special

That weekend, Tenney barely sets her guitar down long enough to eat, sleep, and do homework, running through the same chords again and again until they feel automatic in her fingers. By Sunday evening her fingers ache and her back is sore from hunching over the strings for hours, but she finally starts to feel ready. On Monday morning, she shuffles up to her locker before first period looking so worn out that Jaya gives her a concerned once-over, then jokes she looks like she just caught ten Taylor Swift concerts back-to-back, before asking whether Mom and Dad are still furious about Printers Alley.

Tenney realizes she’d been so buried in practicing all weekend that she never called Jaya back, and she quickly catches her up: the grounding, playing her new song for Mom, and the news that she gets to perform at the showcase after all. “No way,” Jaya gasps, and Tenney admits, still catching her breath, that she can hardly believe it herself.

As the two duck into the girls’ restroom between classes, Tenney confesses how much pressure she feels. This could be her only chance to ever play somewhere like the Bluebird Cafe, so she has to be really good. Jaya grips her shoulders and reminds her that getting invited to a professional showcase hosted by Mockingbird Records already proves she’s good, then teases that Tenney might walk away with a record contract. Tenney points out that everyone performing that night will be hoping for the same thing, but Jaya just grins and reminds her that none of them are Tenney Grant, a boost of confidence that always makes her feel like she can do anything, no matter how nervous she feels.

A stall door clicks open behind them, and Holliday Hayes glides over to a sink, catching Tenney’s eye in the mirror with a snicker. Jaya bristles and asks what’s so funny. Holliday sneers that she just thinks it’s silly to imagine Tenney landing a record deal. Jaya fires back that Holliday has never even heard Tenney sing, but Holliday just shrugs, her blue eyes glinting like hard, cold jewels, and reminds them that her dad runs a record label, so she knows exactly how hard it is to make it big in music. She tells Tenney flatly that she is Tenney Grant, not Taylor Swift, that she’s nothing special, and her music probably won’t be, either.

Tenney’s face burns, but she keeps her voice steady and replies that she’s just going to play her music and do her best. Holliday tosses back a hollow “Good luck” that makes clear she doesn’t mean it, then pushes past them and out the door. Tenney stands frozen, feeling as though Holliday trampled straight over her heart with her plaid high-tops. Jaya steps in front of her, eyes burning, and tells her not to listen to one stupid word Holliday said, that she is the one and only Tennyson Evangeline Grant, and that she’s going to be amazing. As Jaya pulls her into a hug, Tenney tries hard to believe it, clinging to that small spark of confidence Jaya just gave her, even as her stomach still churns.