''Sorry, I'm late. I got held up.'' Mr Owen says as he barrels through the doors of the gym. Adelaide is so different on a Saturday. It's so peaceful; no chatter, no noise, no gossip, no Mariah. It's just you, your thoughts and the echo of your own voice.

''You always say that, Mr Owen.'' Gwen, a girl with thick-rimmed glasses points out. She's in a grade below me and has never missed a club meeting. Her dedication is admirable.

''This time I really got held up,'' he groans. ''My car had a minor accident.'' This amuses us all and he clears his throat as a signal for us to begin. In total, we are about twenty in the Music Club if my calculations are correct, but only ten of us showed up. I don't blame them. I'd ditch too but my resolve is always at the back of my mind.

Academics. Extracuricular. No boys/men.

Mr Owen scans the class in front of him with a frown. ''It seems like a better part of the club decided to ditch.'' I'll say. ''If you have friends that are in this club and they decided that they had something else better to do than attend this very important meeting, do inform them that if they don't show up for rehearsals next week Saturday, they're getting the boot.''

''The Adelaide charity event is coming up in December and it's immediately after your first term exams so the earlier we start prepping, the better.'' He gets out a few papers from his briefcase and looks at them. I turn my attention to Officer James-I mean-Theodore who has been quiet throughout.

I wonder what it's like being in high school for the second time. My guess is it must be torture because I can't imagine coming back to Adelaide as a student and encountering the same bullshit of mini Mariah's and arrogant bad boys.

But, he's doing it to protect me and for that I'm grateful.

''You're staring,'' he whispers in my ear.

''You have drool on your face."

''Really?'' He pads his hands with his face, desperately trying to find the drool and I giggle, but not out loud so as not to distract the class.

He narrows his eyes. ''Real mature.''

We turn our attention back to Mr Owen. ''We're going to decide which songs to sing at the event. Normally, I make that decision solo, but it's a democracy,'' he jokes. ''You all must have a say in what goes on.''

He calls on Gwen to hand out the papers in his hands. ''I narrowed your choices down to Classics and Modern Day tunes. I want us to do a combination of both.'' Officer James passes a paper to me and I look at the fine print. ''I may not be familiar with all the 'modern day tunes' that you all listen to so don't crucify my choices.''

He continues. ''For good measure, if you're dissatisfied with my picks, then you can suggest your picks. I planned a combination of three Classics, since you know, it's the Adelaide charity event so people like me or Principal Grande can reminisce about the good old days.'' You're not that old, Mr Owen. ''and three modern day tunes because there will be students there.''

''These are actually good choices,'' Officer James muses. I look down at my paper to the heading that reads CLASSICS and realize that I do not know any of these songs. The artistes are familiar, but the songs aren't.

''Which ones? The classics or the modern tunes?''

''I'm not that old, '' he groans.

''And I'm not that young.'' I tease. He shakes his head in amusement and I smile.

''Let's take a vote on the Modern Day tunes first. I know most of you may not be familiar with the Classics so I have an assignment for you.'' Some us groan and he puts a hand on his hip, smiling at the class. ''It's not a strenuous one, I promise. Your assignment is to listen to all the six songs listed under CLASSICS and pick the three you like best. Then we'd take a vote next week Saturday.'' We nod our heads in agreement of that proposition.

''Now let's vote on the Modern Day tunes.'' Mr Owen grabs a pen from his pocket. ''The options are: Greenade by Bruno Mars, I Was Here by Beyonce, Powerful by the Empire Cast, Fight Song by Rachel Platten, Skyscraper by Demi Lovato and What About Us by Pink.''

''My niece helped with the picks,'' he confesses lightly. ''And from the looks on your faces, she did a good job.''

I love every single one of these songs. Picking is going to be difficult.

''This is how the voting process is going to be. I'll call a song and you'd raise your hands if you like it. Sounds simple enough, right?''

We nod again.

''First off, Greenade.''

Officer James and I raise our hand. ''So you like Bruno Mars?''

''I told you I'm not that old.''

''That's five votes for Greenade.'' Mr Owen says.

''I Was Here.''

I raise my hand again because, duh, it's Queen B. You can't hate Beyonce. She's a powerhouse and an icon.

I look to Officer James whose hand is down and I gasp. ''You don't like Beyonce?''

''Overrated,'' he responds with an eye roll.

The audacity!

''You should be sued for that statement.''

''Sue me, Melody Jones.''

''That's seven votes for Beyonce.''

''Powerful.''

He raises his hands and it's my turn to roll my eyes. ''Powerful over Beyonce?'' I never watched Empire. Wasn't into the hype when it first premiered but I have heard the soundtrack of the first season on Youtube.

He shrugs. ''I like what I like.''

''Three votes for Powerful.''

''Next up, Fight Song.''

We both raise our hands.

''No side comments this time?'' Officer James questions, albeit in a joking manner.

''Nope.''

''Four votes for Fight Song.''

''Skyscraper anyone?''

I don't raise my hand this time, but he does and that earns me a chuckle. ''You don't like Demi?''

''Love her,'' I say. ''But my arms are tired.''

''Six votes for Demi.''

''Good job guys,'' he encourages. ''We're down to the final one. Drum roll please.'' A few students seated at the back of us tap their pens on the metal of their chair in a dramatic manner.

''Thank you. What About Us?''

Only three hands are raised and Mr Owen nods.

''The winners are: I Was Here, Skyscraper and Greenade.'' There's chanting at the back of us and before you know it, we were all chanting too. Thank God school is out on Saturday or we'd have had noise complaints.

''Simmer down,'' Mr Owen warns, trying to calm us down, but he secretly has a smile on his face. When it comes down to it, Mr Owen is a cool teacher. I've only been here for a year, but I know a good one when I see it. He's teaching me how to learn the guitar after I swore I was dyslexic when it comes to instruments. A funny but embarrassing incident happened in elementary school and it still haunts me till date.

''Now that you've calmed down, let's do some vocal warm-ups.''

...….

''That was fun. I don't remember my high school back in the day having a Music Club?''

After a long afternoon of vocal warm-ups, vocal arrangements and a little bit of practice of the modern-day songs, Mr Owen finally let us go when the clock hit four. I am hungry, the growling of my stomach is a testament to the fact, so Officer James and I are driving to the Subway close to Adelaide.

''Well that was back in the old days, I guess.''

''Again, not that old.''

''I'm seventeen and you're twenty-five?'' he nods. ''Right. You're old enough.''

I love teasing him. I believe it's become somewhat of a hobby for me. A very fun hobby because I like to see him riled up,.

We fall into a comfortable silence, but my eyes notice a very familiar object in his glove compartment. I have an eagle eye, I have my glasses on after all, so nothing passes by me.

''Is that a gun?'' I question. He nods without taking his eyes off the road. ''It is. I'm an officer. Even though I'm undercover, I have one on me always.''

''So you carry it everywhere with you? Even at school.''

''Yes,'' he affirms. ''Even at school. The reality of your situation is a bit delicate, Mel. Can I call you that?'' I nod. ''Alright. Your situation is quite delicate and as I said at the police station, you can never be too careful. We have no clear leads about who fired the shots that day, but I have a feeling that it was linked to your boyfriend and his mafia dealings. If they targeted you once, I bet my bottom dollar, they'd do it again.''

I've been trying to supress every thought about Bob and the danger that lies ahead, and so far, I've been doing a good job. If I deny that it ever happened, then it never happened. Having him restate all that I've tried to water down like a can of Sprite is like having reality slap you in the face.

A big, fat slap that makes you question every decision you ever made in this life.

''Do you think he's dead?''

His hazel eyes find mine as he observes my crestfallen face. ''If you want my opinion, , I don't think he's dead. All evidence at the crime scene suggests so. I believe he's in hiding and he's doing a really good job. However, like the saying goes, you can run, but you can't hide.''

''And if the police catch him?'' I say thickly, trying to control my breathing, ''What then?''

''What do you think?''