The Ballerina and the Rocker

Quinn

The new year was off to a busy start. Not only did she have her regular courses and dance classes to attend, but Quinn began her internship at the New York City Ballet. When she got back to New York after Christmas break and found the letter congratulating her of her acceptance, all Quinn wanted to do was call Zacky and jump up and down on her bed. She did the latter.

Zacky

“So…” Brian said to Zacky, carefully, as the two were in the middle of playing video games. “I saw Quinn over Christmas.”

“Oh yeah?” Zacky said, trying his best to sound unimpressed and not bothered at all by the mention of her.

“Yeah, we just hung out. I filled her in on what’s going on in the band and she caught me up on her dance stuff.” He glanced over at Zacky for a response but Zacky kept his eyes glued to the screen, his face unresponsive.

“Cool.” He hoped that’d be enough to make Brian stop talking about her.

“I just thought you’d want to know, make sure it’s ok.” Apparently it wasn’t.

Zacky paused the game and looked over at his friend. “Look, Brian,” he began, “it’s really not a big deal. I mean, you two are friends so why wouldn’t it be ok? If Matt and Val broke up it’s not like they’d make us stop hanging out with either of them, you know?”

“Yeah, but --”

“Seriously, just stop, ok? I don’t care if you or anyone else hangs out or talks with Quinn, but please don’t talk to me about it.”

Annoyed, he resumed the game and was instantly killed by an alien.

“I win,” Brian said, hoping to lighten the mood.

Zacky sighed. “Alright, let’s go to Matt’s and get this next demo out of the way.”

Quinn

“Sorry I’m late,” Quinn said as she frantically sprinted into the NYCB office, her face flushed and hair windswept. “My class got out late.”

“Quinn, you can’t keep coming late,” Maggie, her supervisor, said.

“I know, I’m sorry,” she continued. She placed her duffle bag under the coat hanger and threw her coat on top. “It won’t happen again.”

“You said that last time. And the time before that.” Maggie looked at her sternly and Quinn wished she could look away.

It’s true, she’d been having a bit of a late streak. But her class, even though it was just a block away, finished just before she was scheduled to show up at her internship which didn’t allow her much time to get ready and show up on time, no matter how quickly she ran.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Quinn, here’s the deal,” Maggie began. “You’re a great fit and you’ve been doing great work, but the chronic lateness is a problem.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Now Maggie was just being straight out demeaning.

“Yes, I do,” Quinn answered, firmly.

“It’s just that all the other interns seems to be taking this far more seriously than you are. So if you’re thinking of applying for an apprenticeship next year, I would highly consider reevaluating your priorities.” Without waiting for a response from Quinn, Maggie left the office.

“What a bitch!” Audrey said after Quinn had filled her in on the encounter.

“Right?” Quinn said, laying on her bed with the phone. “She was talking to me like I was an idiot.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I think I have to drop my class -- otherwise this won’t get any better.”

“Can you do that?”

“Yeah, the only problem is that I’ll have to take an extra semester.”

“Girl, stay in school as long as you can -- the real world is scary. Quinn laughed. “Well, I’ve got to go to work. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright, bye.” Quinn hung up the phone and stared blankly up at the ceiling. Taking an extra semester wouldn’t be so bad, would it? She was planning on staying in New York anyway.

“Yes, you can absolutely drop the course and take it later,” her academic advisor informed her when Quinn went to visit him the next day.

“Oh, perfect,” Quinn said with a sigh of relief.

“But here’s the thing.” Uh-oh. “With the way the credits work out you would have to do an extra semester which means you’d graduate December 2004 instead of May. Now, you said you’d possibly be applying for an apprenticeship position?”

The way he said that made Quinn feel nervous. “Yeah.”

“Well when that comes around we’ll have to talk again, because it might conflict with classes just as this is.”

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“To accommodate your schedule the best option would be to change you from a full-time student to a part-time student, meaning you’d be taking an extra year instead of just the one semester -- graduating in May of 2005.”

A year? She didn’t want to stay in school for an extra year!

“Look, Quinn,” her advisor continued, sensing how overwhelmed she was feeling, “like I said, we’ll talk again when that time comes. It’s possible that won’t even happen. I just want you to keep that in mind.”

Still overwhelmed at the thought, Quinn nodded and thanked her advisor for his help before heading back to her apartment to call her mother and discuss the options.

Zacky

The hours upon hours that had been poured into writing and recording sessions paid off when they had finally finished up their demos and Larry had sent them off to a producer. Now all they had to do was wait for a response to see if the possibility of recording their next album was on the horizon.

Zacky decided to fill up that waiting time with getting another tattoo and the septum piercing he had been debating for some time now. And maybe dyeing his hair. Because why the hell not? (“Purple,” Brian had suggested. “Purple is just the fucking best.”)

And in the blink of an eye, the waiting was over and Larry gave the band the good news that they were definitely going to be recording another record.

Zacky wanted to call Quinn and tell her the good news… but he figured he’d leave that to Brian.

Quinn

Having dropped a class, Quinn was able to invest more time into her internship (and Maggie was, thankfully, being a whole lot nicer to her now). But the thought of adding more time to her schooling kept hanging over her head like a little black rain cloud.

She had already vented this all to Audrey, so she decided to give her sister a break and bother someone else instead. She decided to call Brian but his dad said he was out at the recording studio.

Recording studio? This was the first time she had heard any news about them recording something new.

Quinn opened up the blue clamshell laptop she had gotten for Christmas and checked her email, hoping there was something there. Sure enough, there was an email from Brian:

Hey Wednesday, just thought I’d write you real quick. So we started recording an album - woo! Our producer’s an ass but he’s great so that’s fun. Also - we’re playing Warped Tour again this summer so you’ve got to come and I don’t care what’s going on with you and Zacky (ok I do care, that’s not what I meant) I just mean he can suck it up and see you there… whatever, you know what I’m getting at. SO yeah, things are good, kinda crazy but good. Miss you though. We all do. (ALL of us… wink wink).

TTYL

Syn. (is that weird? Should I sign it Brian?) Brian.

She smiled the whole way through his email and wrote back:

Brian! OMG! That’s great! I can’t wait to hear all about the album. Let’s talk for real soon. Say hi to everyone for me. And Zacky. Hope he’s doing well, too. Miss you guys!

<3 Quinn

After she sent that email to Brian, she debated sending one to Zacky but stopped herself. He was the one that told her not to contact him, and she was doing just that. If he wanted to talk to her again he would… whenever that may be.

Zacky

“It doesn’t look any different,” Jimmy said when Zacky had pointed out his purple hair.

“Did you do it right?” Brian said.

“How many ways are there to do it?” Zacky said. “It’s hair dye from a box.”

“It just… still looks black,” Johnny noted.

“Whatever, I’m getting a drink.” Zacky left his friends to go up to the bar. He sat down and waited for a bartender to take his order.

“What’s the matter with you?” Audrey asked him after he had order a Jack and Coke. “Are the boys teasing you about your hair?”

“What -- I -- it’s from a box --” Audrey chuckled and went to help another customer. Zacky sighed.

“I think your hair looks fine,” a blonde girl, just across the bar from Zacky, said.

“What? Oh, thanks,” he said to her. “I just tried to dye it purple but it didn’t seem to work.” The bartender returned with Zacky’s drink.

“Is your hair naturally that black?” the girl asked. Zacky nodded. “Well that’s why.”

“That’s why what?”

“That’s why the purple doesn’t really show up -- you have to bleach your hair first, then dye it purple.”

“Oh god, that’s so much work,” he groaned and rested his head against the bar. The girl laughed.

“You could come to the salon down on Main Street and I could do it for you.” He lifted his head and looked back at her.

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm. I’ll even give you a discount since you’re so pathetic.”

“Oh wow, thanks.” She laughed again. He smiled. He took a sip of his drink before making the few steps over to her. “My name’s Zacky, by the way,” he said, leaning on the bar beside her.

“Nice to meet you, Zacky,” she said with a smile. “I’m Gena.”