#school of

THURSDAY

After warm-ups, Zack spoke up at band rehearsal for basically the first time ever.

“Dewey, I think we should go back to songwriting.”

Dewey had his eyebrows raised, and everyone in the band turned to look at him.

Zack cleared his throat to stall before continuing, hyper-aware of how everyone was staring at him with varying levels of shock and interest. “We have less than a month to come up with a new original song, and I think we did good work Monday that we should build off of. If we come up with more than one song, we’d be able to release an EP or something sooner rather than later if we get our record deal. That is, if we’re all taking this seriously.”

Dewey looked impressed and even a little proud. “I think you mean when we get our record deal because we abso-freaking-lutely are taking this seriously! Nice thinking, Zack Attack.”

He turned to everyone else and exclaimed, “You heard the man! We’re putting our thinking caps on and getting back into the songwriting mojo; and in the mojo we shall remain until we come up with a rockin’ song! I don’t care where you are or who you’re working with as long as you’re working. We’ll meet up again in an hour; no dilly-dallying! Zack-aroo, you’re with me.”

When he and Dewey were alone, Zack asked, “Did you get my email?”

“You’re darn tootin’ I got your email. It’s some pretty deep stuff, Z. Everything alright?”

Zack hesitated. He didn’t know how much he could say without worrying or maybe even offending Dewey. Instead, he asked, “What do you think is going to happen to us when we go to high school?”

Dewey grimaced and said, “Uh, whatever you do, pay attention in class and stuff. I didn’t really do whole lot of that when I was in high school… I didn’t really do a lot of high school, to be honest.”

Not completely surprised, Zack continued, “No I mean: what’s going to happen to School of Rock? We’re probably not going to all go to the same school, and we’re probably going to end up farther away from your apartment than Nassau.”

Dewey’s face softened. He didn’t make a habit of this, but he crouched down to meet Zack’s eyes. “Honestly, kid, I don’t know. In fact, I didn’t even think you guys would want to continue this once summer vacation hit. All I know is: we’re a band. We rock as a band; we make this decision as a band.”

That wasn’t the most promising answer, but Zack wouldn’t have been satisfied with anything less than 100% honesty. Luckily, when it came to Dewey, that’s what he’d always get. He nodded a bit and then gave a small smile.

Dewey shot up then and ruffled Zack’s hair. “Alright! Back to your song. Kid, honestly, you inspire me. As soon as I got your stuff, I was like, ‘Yes!’ Let’s talk tempo…”

At the end of the hour, Dewey called everyone back together to share what they came up with. Like Zack (and Summer) anticipated, there were a lot more ideas thanks to their work on Monday. Rehearsal ended on a high note, pun not intended.

When Zack got home, he was absolutely inspired. He and Dewey covered a lot of ground at practise, and he thought he finally figured out how to complete the song.

But he needed his guitar.

He tried to do his homework as quickly as possible, thinking through what he was going to say all the while. He finished just in time to hear his father enter the house.

“Dad? Can you come here for a sec?”

Zack heard his father’s footsteps approach, and when his dad turned into the dining room, his eyebrow was raised in a silent question.

Zack swept his arm out in reference to all his papers and books on the table. “I finished my homework.”

The eyebrow was still raised. “I would hope so, seeing as how you have class tomorrow.”

Zack took a deep breath. “I want to play my guitar.”

“You know I take no issue when you practise your pieces for Ms. Sheinkopf’s class,” his father replied coolly.

“My electric guitar,” Zack clarified.

He and his dad stared at each other for an indeterminate amount of time before his father sighed and sank into a chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose and screwed his eyes shut. “If I can hear it from the base of the stairs, you’re turning it off. You are to come down for dinner the first time your mother calls. If I find you awake after 10p, I don’t want to hear music coming out of your room for the rest of the week.”

Zack’s eyes and smile grew wider as his dad spoke and as he realised what he wasn’t saying. He could hardly believe it. “Yes! Yes. Thank you, dad!” He bounded up the stairs to his room and got to work. He was able to nail down some verses and compose a melody for a clarinet before dinner.

“What were you working on up there, sweetie?” his mom asked. “It didn’t sound like anything I've heard you play before.”

“I would hope so; I just wrote it,” Zack replied, sounding both shy and proud.

“You wrote that?” his dad asked from the head of the table, clearly shocked.

Zack looked over to his father and kept the pride in his voice. His dad could force him out of the band, he could make him go to high school in China, but he couldn’t stop him from making music. “Yeah, I did.”

“Huh,” his father intoned. It was silent after that, with his mother glancing between her husband and son. She finally cleared her throat and changed the subject. Zack spent the rest of dinner in silence, half-listening to his parents’ idle chatter about the stock market.

FRIDAY

The next morning, he woke up a little earlier so that he could email Dewey his new work before the bus came. Zack was on his way out the door when his dad stopped him at the doorway. “Son, let me take you to school.”

Not in any position to disobey a direct order (and an order it was), Zack acquiesced. He followed his dad into his cushy BMW 330i. As his dad drove through their upscale neighbourhood, there was silence between them. That was actually pretty customary for them, but usually Zack could leave the radio playing to fill the empty air. He didn’t think that would go over well right now, though.

Finally, his dad pulled into a spot in the school parking lot, but he let the car stay idle, which was how Zack knew he was not yet free to go.

While facing forward, his dad said, “We need to talk about last week.”

Zack remained silent, unwilling to speak until absolutely necessary. His father continued, “I was wrong to raise my voice at you like that. If I won’t tolerate it when you do it to me, I cannot expect you to tolerate it when I do it to you. I’m sorry.”

Zack was surprised but pleased at the apology. He gave a small smile before saying, “Thanks, Dad. I really appreciate that.”

His father looked over at him and smiled back briefly. He turned back towards the front, sighed, then unbuckled his seatbelt so that he could face his son more clearly. “You’re talented, Zack. I may not say it a lot, but it’s true. I have no doubt that in more optimal conditions, your talent and passion would be enough.”

Zack’s jaw dropped a little, disbelieving that he was actually hearing praise from his father regarding his musicianship.

“It’s just that… I’m worried, son. I was hoping that by now I’d see something else from you, something that we could turn into a career. There’s just no stability in music. You know that right? Look at your Finn friend. He wasn’t even able to pay for his apartment until he hijacked a group of fifth graders. Is that the future you want for yourself?”

Zack’s mood darkened at hearing his dad’s thinly veiled criticism of Dewey, and his dad hurried to make his point. “That’s why I need you to stop this and focus on something else for a change, before it turns into something that I can’t help you with. You understand where I’m coming from, don’t you?”

He expected an answer to the question, but Zack had none to give. Instead, he just turned his head to face out the window, the least responsive he could get away with being when it came to his father.

His dad’s tone of voice may have been more gentle than it was before, but the words were the same. He still didn’t get where Zack was coming from.

His dad sighed once more. “Think about this, okay?” He re-buckled his seatbelt and faced forward: Zack’s dismissal, which he took eagerly.

He was just going through the motions as the day progressed, distracted by his conversation with his dad. But then something happened during a break in between biology and Brit-lit.

Summer came up to his desk.

In his mind, there was wind from an indeterminate source blowing her hair out behind her. She was sauntering towards him, radiating charisma and confidence. She sat on the corner of his desk, leaned over so far that she was close enough to kiss, and said in a sultry voice, “Good job at practise yesterday.”

Wait, she actually said that in real life. He shook his head to dispel the daydream. “Huh?”

To his chagrin, she was a respectable distance away, but she was legitimately perched on his desk! “At practise, when you rallied everyone to actually start creating music? That was a really good idea.”

His eyes widened, misunderstanding her comment. “Oh no! Summer, I swear, I didn’t mean to take credit for what you said, but I just agreed with you, and I actually said something similar to Freddy and them last Friday, so I thought that maybe—”

Summer’s chuckle interrupted him before he could babble any further. “Thanks, Zack, but that’s not what I meant. It was a good idea to bring it up in front of Dewey. He may be… Dewey, but he cares about SOR’s future probably more than anyone else here. He would be the one to whip everyone into shape when the time came.”

“Well, it really was a good idea, Summer,” he said earnestly, looking up into her face.

She flushed but composed herself immediately. Still, he did that. He needed to put himself in a position to compliment her more often, clearly. She asked, “Well, were you and Dewey able to get anything started? I know it’s all of our responsibilities, but if anyone’s going to be able to actually finish a song, it’s you two.”

“Oh yeah, we’re getting something together. Uh, remember that little thing I came up with before? That made it in.”

“Great!” She smiled winsomely before they heard Mr. Dunham re-enter the room. She hopped off his desk. “I should get back to my seat, but…”

The daydream came back again in full force. “I can’t wait to hear it,” she said, her voice pitched low. Daydream!Summer winked before turning on her heel to walk back to her desk, her skirt swaying at her knees.

“Care to join us in class today, Mr. Mooneyham?” Mr. Dunham called from the front, dragging Zack out of his reverie. He heard Freddy behind him snickering, no doubt having witnessed that whole exchange. Zack smirked.

“Yeah, I figured I’d swing by for a minute or two,” he responded loudly and clearly. Some of his classmates chuckled, and he saw Summer turn her head to face him with amused shock, the upturned corners of her lips unmistakable.

“Alright. Very clever, Mr. Mooneyham. Since you’re such a jokester today, why don’t you start analysing the assigned reading from Shakespeare’s seminal comedy, ‘Much Ado About Nothing?’”

Honestly, it was totally worth it. Of course it would take no less than the girl of his dreams to bring him out of his funk.

They used to have band practise (or as Dewey liked to called it, “Advanced Rock!” exclamation point included) Monday through Thursday. Back then, the constant rehearsing was really important to help them all get their footing as a band (for the musicians) and as a brand (for the roadies). Over the summer, it was reduced to once a week to accommodate vacations and such. Since they’re not booked as often as they used to be, only one extra day was added when the school year started back up.

It was an off day, but Zack went to Dewey’s apartment anyway to keep working on the song. He didn’t think about calling ahead or anything, but he knew Dewey wouldn’t mind.

After a short hour of working in Zack’s new melodies and tweaking some lyrics so that they were easier to sing, Dewey declared, “Alrighty, I think this is ready to go to the band.”

Zack was shocked and confused. “What!? Are you sure? We don’t even have something for the backup singers. I don’t think it’s ready yet…”

“Zack, what do I always say?”

Without hesitating, he said, “‘It’s not over until the fat man sings.’”

“NO! I mean, true, but no! ‘Rock ain’t about doing things perfect!’ There’s nothing more we can do between just the two of us. We need to get the other guys in on this. It’s when we start fu—fudging up that we’ll know what to fix.”

As always, there was merit to Dewey’s point, but Zack was not convinced. This was the first time he wrote a song that he actually intended for the band to play. He knew he had no reason to be nervous, especially since he had Dewey’s backing and everyone’s trust…

But still.

Dewey could tell something was up, but he didn’t push. Instead, he said, “Hey, c’mon. I’ll give ya a ride home.”

In the car, Zack’s reticence persisted, so Dewey tried to break the ice. “Made any progress on Sunshine yet?”

Zack blushed deeply. “Um, not overtly.”

Dewey raised his eyebrow at this but remained silent. He didn’t have to wait long for a follow-up. “I may have… written her a part in the song.”

Dewey sharply looked over to Zack in shock, causing him to miss a stop sign and narrowly avoid running over a bicyclist, cursing all the while.

After righting the car and trying to keep his focus on the road, Dewey asked, “Like, the song we just finished?”

Zack remained silent, unsure if a verbal confirmation would result in another near-death experience. Dewey took the silence for what it was. “Um, Zack, I know you’re hardcore crushing on her right now, but you were there when she auditioned to be a backup singer, right? Like, rose-coloured glasses and all, but your girl got no sense of pitch.”

“Yeah, haha, but, uh, no. I want her to play in the song. That last email I sent you? It’s sorta meant for her. She can play the clarinet.”

Dewey absolutely did not see this coming. “Wow,” he intoned. “That’s a really freakin romantic move, Z. She must have loved that.”

“Actually, she doesn’t know yet?” It wasn’t meant to be a question, but it sounded like one.

“What do you mean ‘she doesn’t know yet?’” Dewey asked incredulously.

Zack, defensive, responded, “I literally just thought of the idea on Tuesday!”

Dewey huffed. “Okayyy,” he dragged out. “So were you planning on telling her before band practise Monday or is she gonna find out along with everyone else? ‘Cause between you and me, I don’t think Summer is the kind of chick that appreciates being blindsided in public like that.”

Zack literally threw up his arms in defeat. “I don’t know! I didn’t really think about that!”

Dewey stayed silent for a while longer before, “I might have a plan, little man.”

They spent the rest of the car ride fine-tuning Dewey’s idea, which had Zack in a really good mood until Dewey pulled up to his house.

“What’s the matter, Z?” Dewey asked, obviously noticing Zack’s change in demeanour.

“My mom is home,” he said simply. Sure enough, his mother’s Cadillac DeVille was sitting in the driveway. He glanced at the mailbox but couldn’t tell the status of its contents from where he was.

“Are you gonna be okay?”

“I will be.”

“... That’s not promising, but fine. You know how to reach me.”

Zack steeled his nerves as he exited Dewey’s van. He checked the mailbox: empty. Dammit.

As he ran up the steps to his home, he comforted himself with the knowledge that his father’s car was mercifully absent. Despite their civil conversation this morning, he didn’t think his dad would appreciate what he did. His mother’s anger could be just as fierce as his dad’s, but she was far more prone to leniency.

He found his mom in the living room, going over the high school propaganda. Zack stepped forward, knowing that his mom would hear him.

“Zachary, have a seat,” she commanded without looking up. He sat one cushion away from her and waited.

“I suspected you’d been throwing out the high school letters, but I couldn’t confirm that until tonight,” she began, still facing the letter in his hand. He could recognise the coat of arms of Dalton from where he sat. He didn’t say anything in response to her, wanting to know what direction she was headed in before he did anything.

Finally, she lifted her head up to face him. His heart burned at seeing the disappointment and confusion in his mother’s face. “Is this about last week?”

Zack shook his head quickly, but after thinking about it, hedged, “I’d been doing it before then, but that didn’t really help.”

She nodded slowly, not surprised. “Why?”

“What?” Zack asked like she just spoke in another language.

“Why are you doing this?”

Zack never got a chance to explain himself; it just didn’t happen. He almost didn’t even know what to do.

“When you guys talk about which high school to go to, it’s such a loaded conversation. You’re not just talking about high school: you’re also talking about college, you’re also talking about School of Rock. You act like I have to choose between playing in the band now and going to college later! What kind of ultimatum is that?

“And you make me feel like I’m gonna screw up the rest of my life if I so much as choose the wrong thing to eat at breakfast, which… That’s so much pressure on me, you know? I don’t even turn twelve for a couple more weeks; how can you ask me to be okay with that kind of responsibility? So, yeah, I dumped the high school stuff. If it got you guys to get off my back, I would have swam the Sound.”

He started slowly; but as he spoke, he became more impassioned. By the end, Zack was heaving like he really did swim the Long Island Sound. He was afraid of what he would see, but he forced himself to meet his mother’s gaze.

When he made eye contact with her, she shuffled closer to him on the couch and opened her arms. He gladly let her hold him. He didn’t project a strong enough image of a ‘tough guy’ to reject the comfort of his mother’s embrace.

Eventually, she spoke, her voice soft in the empty living room, “You know, you’re just pretending the problem doesn’t exist. That never works, Zack. I would have thought I taught you better than that.”

“You did,” he mumbled into her shoulder.

She squeezed him once before breaking their hug and placing her hands firmly on his shoulders. “What is it that you want?”

What did Zack want? It would be so easy for him to say that he wanted his parents to butt out of this decision, that he’d go wherever his friends went to high school, that he’d ignore college until junior year like everyone else, and that he’d stick with the band come hell or high water.

But then Zack remembered his talk with Dewey, about how the future of the band is so uncertain; and he remembered his dad’s words from this morning. As much as he hated it, he knew he had to make a more mature decision here.

“All I know for sure is that I’m gonna keep making music, even if School of Rock breaks up. I guess it doesn’t really matter which high school I go to as long as I can keep music.”

His mother nodded. “Here’s what’s going to happen: I am going to show your father these brochures,” she said while referencing the papers on the coffee table, “because these are really good schools, and you are going to you’re going to stop interfering with the mail. What do you even do with all of it?”

“I put it in the Obermeyers’ recycling.”

She tried to look disapproving, but the twinkle in her eyes gave her away. The corner of his lips quirked up in a smile, and he shrugged.

She continued, “I’m also going to tell your father everything you just told me. He deserves to know, don’t you think?”

Zack nodded reluctantly, his anxiety over how his dad might react showing on his face.

“Oh, honey…” his mom cooed as she gathered him in her arms again. “As much as we want to see you succeed, we also want to see you be happy. You know that, right?”

He nodded against the soft cotton of her cardigan-clad shoulder.

She let him go then and let out a sharp huff of hair. “Come on, why don’t you help me with dinner? I’m thinking lasagna,” his mother offered as she stood up. Zack grinned at her and followed her to the kitchen.

His dad came home not long after, so he set the dining room table while Zack and his mom cleaned up the kitchen.

“Sweetie, you’re done with your homework already, right?” his mother commented casually, but loudly enough for he husband to hear.

“Yeah, everything that’s due tomorrow at least. Why?” Zack questioned.

“Why don’t you head up to your room and practise that lovely song we heard from you yesterday? I’ll make your dad help me in here.”

Zack stared at her in surprise. From the corner of his eye, he could see his dad giving his mother a similar look.

“Go on; I’ll call you down when dinner’s ready,” she said with a wink. Zack’s surprise shifted into a grin as he looked between her and his dad.