Chapter 4 - The Download
Brianna closed the practice-room door.
Malik remained beside the keyboard.
Neither spoke for several seconds.
Finally Brianna said, “I can explain.”
“That sentence usually means somebody is about to lie slower.”
“I didn't steal your song.”
“My account says you downloaded it.”
“I downloaded everybody's files.”
“Why?”
“Student media archive.”
“Without telling us?”
“It was part of audition coverage.”
Malik held her gaze.
“Then why do you look scared?”
Brianna's mouth tightened.
She looked toward the hallway before answering.
“Because Jordan asked me for yours.”
Malik felt something cold settle into his chest.
“When?”
“Two days later.”
“Why?”
“He said he wanted to hear what people were submitting.”
“And you sent it?”
Brianna nodded.
The admission landed more painfully than Malik expected.
“You laughed at me after giving him my music.”
“I didn't know what he wanted it for.”
“You thought he needed it for research?”
“I thought he was being nosy.”
“So you helped.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Brianna's eyes flashed with shame.
“Because Jordan gets what he asks for.”
“That's not an answer.”
“It is at Jefferson.”
Malik stepped away.
Brianna continued.
“His father paid for half the auditorium renovation. The Banks Foundation funds student council trips, arts programs, uniforms, everything. Jordan acts like the school belongs to him because half the adults here treat him like it does.”
“And you?”
“I wanted to stay on student council.”
“So you sold my privacy for a title.”
“I didn't think of it like that.”
“You never had to.”
The words hit.
Brianna looked away.
Malik unplugged his keyboard.
“What did Jordan do with the file?”
“I don't know.”
“Wrong answer.”
“It's the truth.”
“Did you hear him play it?”
“No.”
“Did you see it on his phone?”
“No.”
“Did he ask for anybody else's?”
Brianna hesitated.
“No.”
Malik stopped packing.
That mattered.
“Why mine?”
“He heard you practicing once.”
“When?”
“Before auditions. He was walking past this room.”
Malik remembered a shadow beneath the practice-room door.
He had ignored it.
Brianna hugged herself.
“Jordan's been stressed about the regional scholarship.”
“He's rich.”
“It's not about the money.”
“What, rich people need scholarships for emotional reasons?”
“It comes with the Halston Conservatory residency. His father went there. His grandfather went there. Jordan's been talking about it since freshman year.”
Malik understood.
Prestige.
Legacy.
A family tradition mattered more to the Banks family than tuition.
“What does that have to do with my song?”
“I don't know.”
“Find out.”
Brianna looked up.
“What?”
“You helped him get it. Find out what he did.”
“Malik—”
“Or don't.”
He lifted the keyboard.
“But stop apologizing.”
He passed her.
“Apologies without action are just people asking to feel better.”
That evening, Brianna sat at her desk staring at Jordan's messages.
Their friendship went back to middle school.
Jordan could be funny, generous, even protective.
He had paid for dinner when friends forgot wallets.
He had driven classmates home after parties.
He was not a cartoon villain.
That made what she suspected worse.
Brianna typed:
WHY DID YOU WANT MALIK'S DEMO?
Jordan responded almost immediately.
WHY DO YOU CARE?
BECAUSE HE KNOWS I DOWNLOADED IT.
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Returned.
Then:
DELETE THE DOWNLOAD LOG.
Brianna stared.
Her stomach tightened.
She typed:
WHY?
Jordan called.
She answered.
“What are you doing?” he demanded.
“Answer me.”
“Delete it.”
“Did you use his song?”
“No.”
“Then why delete anything?”
“Because he's trying to make some conspiracy out of an audition.”
“Did you use it?”
Silence.
“Jordan.”
His voice dropped.
“You don't understand what I'm dealing with.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“My father has spent my entire life telling people I'm going to Halston.”
“So?”
“So I need an original composition for regional selection.”
Brianna stood.
“You stole Malik's.”
“I didn't steal anything.”
“You downloaded his file.”
“You sent it.”
The accusation stopped her.
Jordan continued.
“Don't suddenly become moral because the poor kid can sing.”
Brianna's face burned.
“That is disgusting.”
“You laughed too.”
Another blow.
Because it was true.
Jordan lowered his voice.
“I changed it.”
“What?”
“Different lyrics. Different arrangement. Different title.”
“That's still his song.”
“Music shares chord progressions all the time.”
“Not entire melodies.”
He said nothing.
Brianna sat slowly.
“Jordan, what did you submit?”
The line went quiet.
Then he answered.
“An original composition called ‘Never Falling.’”
Her blood ran cold.
Stay Standing.
Never Falling.
“Delete the log,” Jordan repeated.
Brianna ended the call.
For a long time she stared at the phone.
Then she opened screen recording.
She captured the entire message thread.
She backed it up twice.
Across town, Malik was practicing when an email arrived from Jefferson Administration.
SUBJECT: TALENT SHOW DECISION.
He opened it.
Congratulations to this year's selected performers.
He scanned the list.
Alyssa Grant.
Brianna Cole.
Four others.
Jordan Banks.
Malik Turner was not there.
At the bottom appeared one sentence.
All committee decisions are final.
Malik read it twice.
Then his mother entered his room holding an envelope.
“Malik?”
Something in her voice made him turn.
Renee held out the letter.
Their apartment complex logo appeared at the top.
NOTICE OF LEASE NONRENEWAL.
Malik looked at the management company.
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And suddenly, Jordan's last name seemed to be everywhere.
