Title: THE SIDEWALK’S REGRETS
Genre: YA Contemporary
Word Count: 84 000
Seventeen-year-old Sacha McLeod isn’t looking for someone to rock her
world. She just needs a new violin string to replace the one she
broke in a tricky section of her audition piece. But when she hears
Dylan play the guitar, the energy, violence and unpredictability of
the music thrills her and she falls hard for him and his wild,
Her plans - and her self-confidence – are shattered when she screws up
the audition for a prestigious summer music program. Dylan asks her to
come and spend her vacation with him in the city instead and she jumps
at the chance. She’s expecting romance, music and passion, but when
she finds herself playing second fiddle to Dylan’s newly acquired drug
habit, she realizes despite what the songs say, sometimes love isn’t
all you need.
Desperate to be close to Dylan, and to understand what’s competing for
her affections, Sacha experiments with drugs on her own, discovering a
well of creativity she didn’t know existed. Her contribution to the
band’s sound brings them into the public eye, but with the extra
attention – and money - drug use escalates. If Sacha can’t figure out
how to leave the band, and Dylan, she’ll lose herself, and her music
The notes swim on the page, blurring before my eyes. My bow stutters
across the bridge and I wince at the piercing noise that squawks out
as the E-string breaks.
“Goddamn!” I want to throw the bow across the room, but I know
better. I set it down on the table beside me instead. I glance at
the clock. Four fifteen. Great. I got an hour in. Maybe a little
more. That’s going to get this piece nailed. Not. Stupid
Shostakovich. Whoever picked this to be the compulsory piece for the
summer school auditions deserves a kick in the ass.
I place my violin on the table while I scrabble through the paper
envelopes of strings I keep inside the case’s lining. I know I don’t
have a spare E because I broke one last week too. In the same
measure. There’s clearly something wrong with my technique in that
section. I have to ask Mr. Dobson about that when I go to my lesson
tomorrow. I’ll have to get a new E-string before then too. One
hasn’t miraculously appeared, despite my wishes.
With a sigh, I pack my violin into its case, pausing to run a hand
over the warm, golden wood before shutting the lid. It’s like locking
away my best friend. It is locking away my best friend. God knows I
spend more time with my instrument than I do with anyone else.