Center Stage
Copyright© 2025 by Lumpy
Chapter 23
I was glad when the school day ended. While I’d wished to be back in school and my normal routine all during the tour, now my public life had invaded even that. Between kids still making comments about my being a millionaire and the weird ... I don’t even know what to call it ... intervention slash strong arm meeting in the principal’s office, school had suddenly stopped being a refuge for me.
Which sucked.
When I got home, I found Hanna sitting on the couch, hugging her knees to her chest, just staring straight ahead. It’s where she’d been all weekend, either there or locked in her room. She hadn’t showered for days and her hair was a mess.
“Hey,” I said, setting my backpack down and sitting next to her. “How you holding up?”
Hanna shrugged, not even bothering to look at me.
“I know, it sucks. What Cross did to you was messed up. But it’s not the end of the world, Han. You’ll get through this.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one who got expelled because some asshole professor decided to paint you as a crazy stalker.”
“No, but I do know a little something about having people out to get you, to hurt you, and make your life miserable.”
She actually gave a small smile at that and actually turned to look at me. Her eyes red and puffy from crying.
“I just feel so stupid, Charlie. I really thought he loved me.”
“I know, and he’s been doing this for a long time. He’s really good at taking advantage of students. I won’t say it’s not your fault, but I’m not blaming you either. And it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you don’t give him this much control over you.”
“I don’t know what I’m going to do now,” she said, as a single tear slipped down her cheek.
“Well, for starters, you could go take a shower. You’re kinda rank.”
That actually got a laugh, “Sure.”
“Hey. I love you. You know that, right.”
“Yeah.”
“Good,” I said, pulling her into a hug. “You’ll get through this Hanna. I promise.”
She didn’t say anything to that, but she hugged me back incredibly tightly, like I was a lifeline. Maybe I was. She wasn’t actively fighting with her mom, but there was still a ton of tension between them, and she wasn’t getting the support from her mom she wanted.
Not that I begrudged Mrs. Phillips for being upset. She’d tried to convince Hanna this was wrong so many times, telling her it would end exactly here, and now she’d seen her daughter throw everything away.
She got up and headed upstairs. At least she was moving again. I grabbed my bag and headed for my own room. There was something I needed to do now that it was Monday, and I needed privacy to do it.
I closed the door to my room, sat on the edge of my bed, and pulled out my phone. I’d looked up the number I needed on Friday, but I hadn’t been able to do anything about it until today.
“UNC admissions office, this is Tara. How may I assist you?” a chipper voice answered.
“Hi, Tara, my name is Charlie Nelson. I know this is probably an unusual request, but I was hoping to set up a meeting with someone from admissions about changing my mind on attending UNC next year.”
“I’m sorry, but we don’t typically schedule meetings for students who have already declined admission. If you’d like to reapply, you can do so during the next admissions cycle.”
“I understand that’s the policy, but I was hoping my situation might be a little different. I ... there’s no way to say this without it coming off incredibly bad in a ‘do you know who I am’ kind of way, but could you maybe check with someone before telling me ‘no’? I promise I’m not trying to be a di ... a jerk, and I know you’re probably busy, but could you please ask?”
The girl let out an audible sigh and said, “Fine. I’ll see what I can do. Hold, please.”
The line went silent for a second, and then I was left listening to generic hold music. I couldn’t blame her for being annoyed. She was probably just a student worker trying to get through her shift, not expecting to deal with some random guy trying to throw his very minor celebrity status around. She probably had parents demanding to talk to her manager or whatever, and I was hoping I didn’t come off in that category.
I just hoped it was enough to hint that I might change my mind to get me in the door so I could talk to someone in a position to do something, anything, about Cross. They were letting a predator walk around punishing his victims, and that was worth abusing my status if I had to.
After almost five minutes, the music on the phone suddenly cut off and the girl’s voice came back on the line, sounding significantly less annoyed.
“I’m so sorry for the wait, Mr. Nelson. I’ve spoken with my supervisor, and we would be more than happy to set up a meeting with you to discuss your potential enrollment at UNC.”
“That’s great, thank you so much.”
“We’ll email you with some potential meeting times, although it could take a few days. Dr. Kincaid, our head of admissions, has indicated she would like to be at this meeting, so we have to find some times that will work.”
“Fantastic. And I know this is probably an unusual request, but is there any way we could have someone from the Dean of Students office join as well? Someone who deals with current students and not just admissions?”
There was a brief pause and I heard something muffled, like she was covering the phone and talking to someone else. “I’m sure we can arrange that. May I ask why you need someone from that department specifically?”
I hesitated, not wanting to give too much away. “It’s just ... there’s a situation with a current student that I think needs to be addressed. It’s critical to my decision to attend UNC.”
“Then, uhh, I’ll make sure to pass along your request. Someone from the Dean’s office will be at the meeting.”
“Thank you, Tara. I really appreciate you going above and beyond to help me out.”
“Of course, Mr. Nelson. We look forward to meeting with you and hopefully welcoming you to the Tar Heel family.”
We exchanged a few more pleasantries before hanging up. I flopped back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. This was risky and it could backfire on both me and Hanna, but it was the only thing I could think of. I couldn’t just sit by and watch my best friend’s life fall apart while the person responsible faced zero consequences.
Surprisingly, UNC got back to me quickly, with an email showing up in my inbox the next day. Unfortunately, they might have actually gotten back to me too quickly. They set up the meeting for Wednesday, but ARC had already arranged for us to go to a recording studio in Raleigh on Tuesday to lay down the master track for the mini-EP. It was supposed to be two days of recording, but the meeting at UNC was at ten in the morning and who knew how long that was going to take?
I hoped the producer, who ARC had assigned us and I’d never met, would be cool about it, and we could make enough progress today that I could finish it with a half day after that. The only good thing was that the mini-album was only three songs. It wasn’t like we’d need as much time as we would for a full album. Of course, for our last album we’d only been able to finish like two songs in one day, and that was at our absolute fastest, with other songs taking us multiple days for each one.
The studio wasn’t hard to find, but was a different one than the one we’d used when we were at MAC, making me wonder how many recording studios a city like Raleigh, big enough but not exactly huge, could support.
The producer, a Vietnamese guy I thought, named Tran, was already waiting for us. And so was Hal, which made me nervous. Explaining my sudden half-day unavailability to an unknown producer was one thing. Explaining it to the guy who was ultimately my boss was quite different. Hal had also gone out on a big limb for me, so the last thing I wanted to do was let him down.
“Hal, I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“I couldn’t miss the chance to see my newest star in action,” he said with a grin. “I’m very excited to hear what you’ve got for this third song of yours.”
He meant Dirty Little Secrets, which was the only one he hadn’t heard, since he’d been a judge when I’d played the other two at Christmastime on the show.
“The credit for that one goes to Lyla. She’s to blame for all of our fun songs.”
Lyla beamed at him.
“Well, then I’m all the more excited to hear it.”
“Uhh,” I said, trying to figure out how to broach the subject of leaving. “I do have a problem though. I know we’re scheduled for two days of recording, but I have an emergency around my college signing, and I need to be at a meeting at UNC at ten tomorrow. I don’t know how long it will take, but I promise to come right back after.”
Hal frowned, something I hadn’t seen a lot from him, and my heart sank a little. He’d stuck his neck out for me, so the last thing I wanted to do was let him down.
“Charlie, we’re on a tight schedule here. Every minute counts.”
“I know. I really do, and I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t an absolute emergency. I know how this looks, considering everything you’ve done for me, and I promise I’ll give everything I have to make sure we put out a good product that all of us will be happy with.”
Hal studied me for a moment. “Alright. We’ll make it work. But don’t make a habit of this, okay?”
“Thank you so much. I promise I won’t.”
Hal left, headed off to do whatever people who run labels do, leaving us with the producer.
“So, I know we have a lot to do, and apparently not a lot of time to do it, so let’s get down to it,” Tran said. “I figure our best bet, since they’re three different styles, is to start with the rock while we’re all feeling fresh, and work down to the ballad at the end. I know they all require a fair amount of energy, but I’ve found rock needs that energy to work, kind of like how you can hear a person smiling when they’re talking on the phone.”
“Works for us,” I said.
“So I listened to the rough cut you sent over of all three, and I really like the vibes of Secrets, and I think honestly it’s almost there. It just needs a bit of polishing.”