Idol v Idol—Hana’s POV

It is day 3 at the Rhizome Entertainment Workshop.

I’m starting to understand Murphy's law.

We did eventually make a list of everything we wanted in our classroom and since we didn’t have a budget, we wrote down everything we could possibly need and more. As the new Class President, you could say that I am worried about setting it all up, but that’s the least of my worries.

I still haven’t gotten over how big this campus is. We didn’t get the luxury of a tour but this place was certainly not second rate. It looked like a high school on the outside but it didn’t seem like it was a school borrowed for this program, and if it was, it was heavily renovated because it was not short on dance, instrument or vocal practice rooms. There were other rooms too like a place to sew and another to do physical and digital art. You had a full library and a recording studio. A computer lab and a separate audiovisual room. A place to do photography, a greenscreen room and soundstage, a reading room, separate theater from the auditorium, a school store AND a bookstore and a beauty store. The girls' dorms had their own lounge room with computers, couches and a TV. There was a garden farm place outside that I haven’t looked at yet but heard was beautiful.

Hell, as of now, I was at the school café with my class. If anyone was upset that I was Class President. They would have said something by now. We were the only other students there.

Lola was currently eating a cake pop and occasionally taking sips of her mocha, “A full café at a summer workshop? What’s the opposite of dodging a bullet?”

“Throwing yourself on a grenade?” said Rowan.

Lola pouted, rolling her eyes, “I meant when you take a risk and it works out dumbass.” she took another bite of her cake pop. Noah was tapping his foot, annoyed. Out of the rest of the class, he seemed the most disappointed that he didn’t become class leader. Couldn’t blame him. Even though I was already elected, I would let him take my place if given the chance. To his credit, he didn’t take his anger out on me.

Jazmin tilted her head, “What’s wrong Noah?” She took a sip of her latte.

Noah sighed, frustrated. “What’s wrong is that our schedules only show the first two days. With nothing else written down, I have no way of knowing what we’re supposed to do?!”

Jazmin ruffled his hair, Noah pulled back confused, “Cheer up! It’s summer right now. Let’s just relax and have fun before our first class.”

Lola rubbed her chin, “Speaking of classes, I haven’t gotten mine yet. Besides the three people we met on the video call, the other teachers are a complete mystery too.”

“To be fair,” said Noah, “This could easily be a self-study program, where we’re all teaching each other. Like yesterday, perhaps we’ll be given challenges to complete instead of traditional classes.”

“Fair enough. But what about the guys we met on the video call? Who are they then?”

Noah shrugged, his frustration evident. “They could be guest instructors or maybe they’re here to evaluate our progress. I just wish we had more information.”

I finally spoke up, “Speaking of the video call and the staff and stuff…remember what Miss Von Fay said yesterday? You know, being chosen by skill level?”

“What about it?” Noah asked.

“Well, I’m just thinking about it, and I’m starting to wonder why we’re called Class D. You know, like grade scores. A to D?”

Side conversations fizzled out as the outdoor café became silent, minus the humming of bugs, grass and the wind.

Jazmin was the first to break it:

“Wait! So you’re saying we’re the worst group?!”

“Well, maybe. I’m not entirely sure but that’s what it sounds like to me. Could be wrong though,” I replied, trying to keep my tone neutral.

Jazmin stood up, practically slamming her hands against the table, “But it doesn’t make any sense! Why let us come if we’re gonna be in the bad group?!”

Noah joined Jazmin, “Let’s not jump to conclusions here. She didn’t necessarily say we were judged on a worst to best scale.”

Lola chimed in her head resting on the table,, “Yeah Noah’s probably right. They could have assigned us to classes based on other criteria—like musical styles, or maybe they wanted diverse groups for collaboration purposes."

“Makes sense,” said Noah before being quickly interrupted by Jazmin, my theory clearly brewing some anxiety in her, “Look at us. We’re from different countries with different backgrounds in music. They could be seeing how we blend our styles together.”

Lola tilted her head towards Jazmin, “I wasn’t finished,” Jazmin quieted down, breaking eye contact from the rest of the class, sitting up straight.

“Now that I say it out loud, I wouldn’t put it past them to assign us based on skill. The naming choices for the classes makes that seem obvious enough. I just don’t know why they’d do that for a workshop this competitive. Where people of all different classes will be sent home as the workshop goes on. If that was really the objective like they said it was, why group us up by skill level? Wouldn’t the worst of us get sent home first and the people in–let’s say Class A predictably win? Something isn’t adding up. And that something could be A,” Lola pointed to me, “You’re making near-baseless theories, or B: there’s something else going on here.”

Lola paused before swinging her legs, her expression much less serious as she took the final bite of her cake pop. “Or it could be C: They’re stupid and can’t plan. Never attribute it to malice which can be adequately explained by incompetence.” She smiled, leaving us with that last quote to mull over.