by Kellen Hertz
“What do you say?” Portia asked me.
“Yes,” I said. I felt like I could crack open from happiness.
“You should sing a Belle Starr song!” Aubrey declared, on her tiptoes behind Mom. I was supposed to go on with Portia in just a few minutes, so Mom was helping me get ready in the ladies’ room.
“I think we’ve all heard enough Belle Starr for one lifetime,” Mom joked. She twisted my hair back on one side, secured it with a bobby pin and stepped back. “What do you think?” she asked.
I turned to the mirror. My hair looked simple but pretty. I realized I was wearing the same outfit I’d worn to the showcase, but this time, I didn’t feel so uncomfortable. Knowing that Portia would be next to me onstage, I suddenly realized that I wasn’t as nervous as I had been before the showcase.
Portia was waiting for me by the stage with Dad and Mason, who’d run home to get my guitar. As we tuned our guitars side by side, I scanned the lawn. The Jamboree had grown crowded. A large crowd applauded the folk band that played before us as they exited the stage.
“You ready, Tenney?” Portia asked.
I nodded. I felt a little buzzy, but I couldn’t stop smiling as Ms. Carter stepped onstage and thanked everyone for coming to the Jamboree.
“We’re so fortunate that a living music legend has agreed to close out the show today,” she said, nodding to Portia. “She also has a last-minute guest: one of our most talented students, Tenney Grant!”
The audience started applauding as soon as Portia and I walked onstage.
“Hold on now!” she said into the microphone. “We haven’t even started playing yet.” The audience laughed.
“I’m going to let Tenney start this off.” She winked at me and stepped back.
I moved to the microphone. A sea of faces smiled back at me in the sunlight. Just like that, happiness wrapped around me. “I’m Tenney Grant,” I said, “and this one’s for my mom.”
I inhaled and took off, my fingers flying along the guitar frets and across the strings, picking out the intro.
“I am planted in the ground,” I started, “tiny like a seed …”
My heart felt like it was floating. Rather than letting myself get lost in the song as I usually did when I was nervous, I looked out at the crowd. I knew my song so well by now that I could focus on connecting with the audience. They swayed to my song and clapped to the beat. By the last round of the chorus, they were singing along!
The moment I played the last chords, the crowd broke into applause.
“Thank you,” I said into the microphone. “Now, I’d like to introduce Miss Patty Burns!”
The audience cheered as Portia stepped up to the mic. “I’m going to ask Tenney to sing this first one with me,” she said.
I looked to Portia, surprised. We hadn’t even rehearsed anything—how was I going to sing along if I didn’t even know what we were playing?
She tossed me a reassuring grin and started playing. From the very first notes, I knew what song it was. As I joined in, our guitar lines blended together into my favorite song, “April Springs.”
“Last April the rains came down,” sang Portia, “And washed away your love.”
I joined in with the harmony. “Last April the rains came down, and washed away my pride. When I lost your heart in that rainstorm, I think I nearly died.”
As our voices swirled in unison, people in the audience started singing along. I looked out at the crowd and glimpsed Mom and Dad beaming back at me. I let myself soar with the music. When the song ended, the crowd broke into a roar.
“Not too shabby,” Portia whispered to me, and we took a bow together.
I woke up on Monday feeling like I’d slept for a hundred years. Now that the Jamboree was over, it was easy to relax. I grinned all through breakfast and the drive to school, thinking about my performance.
I can’t wait for the next time I get to perform, I thought, gliding down the hall to my locker. Maybe I should ask Portia if she wants to play together again … ?
Giggly whispers bubbled up behind me. Across the hall, a cluster of eighth-grade girls stared at me over their binders, twittering. The second they saw me looking, they shut up. Were they talking about me? My back stiffened and I opened my locker, trying to pretend I didn’t see them. A tall girl with curly blonde hair walked over.
“Excuse me?” she said.
I turned, hugging my textbook like a shield. “Yes?”
“I thought you were awesome at the Jamboree,” she said, her voice high with excitement. “Your song was amazing.”
I felt color race to my cheeks. “Wow, thanks,” I said.
The other girls came over.
“Where can I buy your songs?” one asked me. “Are they online?”
“When are you performing next?” questioned another.
“Um, I’m not sure,” I said, scrambling. “And I haven’t actually recorded any of my songs yet.”
“Yet,” said the tall redhead, grinning.
“I love ‘Reach the Sky,’” she continued. “I watched the video like a thousand times yesterday! I even know all the words!”
The other girls nodded and all started talking at once.
I blushed with pride, but then caught myself. “Wait—what video?” I asked confused.
“The one from the Jamboree,” the redhead replied. “It’s online. You haven’t seen it?”
I shook my head, dazed.
“You have to watch the video,” piped up a girl with braids. “Everybody’s talking about it!”
The next few minutes were a blur. I raced to Ms. Carter’s room and found Jaya at her desk. She hadn’t seen the video, either, but we had a few minutes until class started, so we got permission to use the classroom computer.
“Search under Tenney Grant and Magnolia Hills Jamboree,” Jaya said as I typed.
The video popped up as a tiny freeze-frame of me onstage with my guitar. “Here it is!” I said.
Jaya leaned over my shoulder, reading the caption. “Music’s next superstar, onstage with rock-country legend Patty Burns.”
I clicked on the video link. The recording started with me singing “Reach the Sky.” It was sort of blurry, but the audio was good.
“Tenney!” Jaya exclaimed. “Look how many people have watched it!”
My breath caught when I saw the view count—more than 10,000 people had viewed my video!
We scrolled down to read the comments.
“This person said you have an amazing voice!” Jaya said, pointing to the screen. “This one says, I can’t wait to buy her album. When’s it coming out?”
“This is crazy!”
“No,” Jaya proclaimed, bouncing in her chair. “This is just the beginning.”
For the rest of the day, I did my best to concentrate on my classes. But the minute school got out, I raced out to the school’s front steps. As usual, Mason was waiting for me by the flagpole.
“Mason, do you have your phone with you?” I asked breathlessly. I told him about the video, and he immediately got out his phone to check the site.
“Holy cow,” he said, looking down at the screen. “Tenney, you’re up to 15,000 views!”
We hurried through the Five Points intersection to Dad’s music store. I was about to rush in to tell Dad about the video, but froze when I looked through the front window. Inside, Zane Cale was talking to Dad by the cash register.
“What’s he doing here?” Mason said, frowning over my shoulder.
“No idea,” I said.
We walked in. Zane tipped his porkpie hat to me like an old-fashioned gentleman.
“Hi, Zane,” I said, trying to act cool.
“Tenney,” he replied.
“Mr. Cale stopped by to talk to you,” Dad said. His eyes sparkled with excitement.
“I wanted to tell you how great you were at the Jamboree,” Zane said.
“I—I didn’t know you were there,” I said, flustered.
“I was ind
eed,” Zane said. “I’ve known Portia Burns for a long time. When she called me that morning saying she was going to play her first show since her stroke, I came to support her. Seeing you was an unexpected bonus.” He looked me straight in the eye. “Last time we talked, you made it very clear that it’s important to you to be true to yourself. And this time around I saw it. You completely commanded the stage and connected with your audience in a way I hadn’t seen at the showcase. You had a passion and a fire that blew my boots off.”
“Thank you,” I said.
“When I saw you on that Jamboree stage, I realized it’s only a matter of time before someone else in the music business sees it, too. So I thought before that happened, I needed to make a deal with you.”
Boom. Just like that, my heart felt like it stopped.
“I can’t offer you a record contract right now,” he continued, “because I still think you need time to mature as an artist. From time to time, however, I help develop songwriters. I provide advice, help them book performances, and give guidance on their music. Then when they’re ready, I produce their album. I’d like to do that for you, as your manager. That is, if you’re interested,” he said to me.
Mason frowned, crossing his arms.
“Funny how you didn’t want to sign Tenney until her video went viral,” he said.
“What video?” Dad asked. Zane looked just as perplexed.
Mason showed them the video on his phone. “19,000 views!” he whispered to me.
“Well, that is an accomplishment,” Zane said. “But that’s not why I’m here. I don’t work with people based on viral videos. I work with them because I believe in them. I’m not interested in turning you into the next Belle Starr. You shouldn’t try to be anyone other than Tenney Grant. Your music needs to reflect who you are. That’s something that takes time to grow and develop, but it’s the only way to build a long-lasting career.” He replaced his hat on his head and looked me dead in the eye. “So, what do you think? Will you work with me?”
I hesitated. I liked Zane, and I felt in my bones that he meant what he said about helping me grow as an artist. But I remembered what had happened to Mom. She’d trusted someone in the music business … and he’d stolen her songs.
“I need to think about it,” I said.
After dinner, Aubrey sat at the computer in the corner of the kitchen, tracking the number of video views. “21,341!” she announced.
Mason rinsed a plate and handed it to me to put into the dishwasher. “I can’t believe that you told Zane you’d have to think about it!” he said.
“It’s a big decision,” I told him, glancing at Mom.
She hadn’t said much all night. Was she just trying to figure out how to tell me that I couldn’t work with Zane? I thought about how she had lost all her songs without even knowing it was happening. That would break my heart, I realized. If she tells me I have to turn Zane down, I know it’s because she doesn’t want me to get hurt.
Even so, I couldn’t bear the thought of saying no to Zane. For just a little longer, I needed to enjoy the excitement of Zane’s offer and all the possibilities it carried.
“I’m going to get some air,” I said.
I got my guitar and my songwriting journal and sat out on the porch with Waylon. At first I couldn’t focus with Aubrey calling out the number of views for my video every ten seconds. After a while, her voice blended with the crickets into a strange kind of music.
I paged through my journal. In the front were the first songs I’d written when I was ten: the one about Waylon, and another about Christmas. Although they were simple, I’d spent a lot of pages working on the rhymes and changing the lyrics until I found what worked best. As I got older, I wrote longer songs and learned to choose my words more carefully. By the time I got to the page where I’d worked out the lyrics for “Reach the Sky,” I could see how far I’d come. Still, I knew I had a long way to go.
The porch creaked behind me. I looked up to see Mom stepping out from the kitchen.
“Hey,” she said, sitting down next to me.
“Hi.” I took a deep breath.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said, sighing. “I want to work with Zane, but I’m afraid that you’re going to say no. But I get it: You worked with that producer guy and it turned out to be awful …” I trailed off.
“Tenney,” Mom said, taking my hand, “this isn’t about my past. This is about your future. Dad and I would never let anybody take advantage of you and your music. The most important thing to us is that you feel good about yourself and that you never give up your love of music.”
She paused, her eyes wet with tears. I steadied myself, prepared for disappointment.
She continued, “If you decide you want to work with Zane, your dad and I promise to support you.”
I drew in a sharp breath. “You mean, this is my decision?”
Mom smiled. “Yes, it is. But if there’s ever a time that you don’t like the direction he’s going with your music, you can stop. You will always have that choice—your dad and I will make sure of that. Okay?”
I nodded, and threw my arms around her. Her hug made me feel totally safe. I knew I could tell her anything. “But what if I try and try and Zane decides I’m not good enough?”
“Good enough for what?” Mom asked.
“To make an album,” I said.
“So what?” Mom said. “As long as you believe in yourself, you can keep making music. If making music is something you really want to do, you don’t run away from it. You say yes to it. And you know that no matter what happens, we’re proud of you. Right?”
“Right,” I said, letting out a deep breath. “Thank you, Mom.”
Mom kissed my head and went back inside.
I looked up at twinkling stars in the darkening sky. I felt like one of those stars, floating higher than I could ever imagine, shining with my whole heart.
Remember this feeling, I thought to myself. It’ll make a great song.
by Leah Bryan and Hannah Fisher
I am planted in the ground
Tiny like a seed
Someday I will make you proud
I’ll be steady like a tree
Will you teach me how to grow?
Chorus:
Gonna be myself, nobody else
Gonna reach the sky if I only try
I admit that I am young
Tucked beneath your wings
But someday I’ll be on my own
Wild and flying free
Will you teach me how to sing?
Gonna be myself, nobody else
Gonna reach the sky if I only try
Bridge:
I know you wanna keep me
Safe away at home
But I’ve got my own dreams
And I can’t tell them no
Gonna be myself, nobody else
Gonna reach the sky if i only try
Growing up just outside Nashville, sisters Leah Bryan and Hannah Fisher were surrounded by great music and talented singer-songwriters. Like Tenney, they were born into a musical family that performed together at community events.
Their big break came in 2000 when the Peasall Sisters—Leah, Hannah, and their sister Sarah—were invited to record songs for the soundtrack of the film O Brother, Where Art Thou? The album was a huge hit, and at the ages of eight and eleven, Leah and Hannah became the youngest people ever to win a Grammy. Riding a wave of success, the family of eight set off on a ten-year tour across the country. “It was fun and we loved it,” says Hannah, looking back on the tour. “But it was definitely hard work.”
Now in their twenties, they still enjoy performing with their family. They claim that they’ve been playing together for so long that they can just give each other a look and know what they’re going to play next.
Leah and Hannah sing “Reach the Sky” at the Bluebird Cafe in Nashville.
This sense of family connectedness was very
important as Leah and Hannah cowrote “Reach the Sky” while living five hundred miles apart from each other! Communicating by text message, they patched the song together by sending lyrics and sound clips of the melody.
Inspired by Tenney’s story and their own experiences as young musicians, the sisters wrote about the importance of staying true to oneself. Leah offers this advice to young songwriters like Tenney: “There’s nobody like you. Be yourself and don’t worry about the rest. Great music will always find its way out there—just not always in the ways you might think.”
With gratitude to manuscript consultant Erika Wollam Nichols for her insights and knowledge of Nashville’s music industry; to music director Denise Stiff for guiding song development; to songwriters Hannah Fisher and Leah Bryan for helping Tenney find her voice; and to Taylor Guitars for giving Tenney the guitar of her dreams.
As a young reader, Kellen Hertz loved L. Frank Baum’s Wizard of Oz series. But since the job of Princess of Oz was already taken, she decided to become an author. Alas, her unfinished first novel was lost in a sea of library books on the floor of her room, forcing her to seek other employment. Since then Kellen has worked as a screenwriter, television producer, bookseller, and congressional staffer. She made her triumphant return to novel writing when she coauthored Lea and Camila with Lisa Yee before diving into the Tenney series for American Girl.
Kellen lives with her husband and their son in Los Angeles.
Tenney Grant knows that building a music career takes time and dedication. So does being a good friend.
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Tenney’s next book!
“You nervous, honey?” Mom asked me as our pickup rattled along the parkway toward downtown Nashville.
“No,” I said. “Why?”
Mom glanced at my legs, which were jittering a mile a minute.
“I guess I’m just a little excited,” I admitted, squeezing my knees together to stop them from bouncing. Anticipation coursed through me as my pulse hammered with a rock ’n’ roll backbeat.