Ally Dawson

"This is it. This is really happening."*

My hands trembled as I double-checked the address on my phone—1327 East Warehouse District, Studio B. The producer’s email had been so convincing—“We’ve heard your demos. Austin Moon’s team recommended you. We need fresh talent for a secret collab.”

Trish had squealed when I told her. “Ally, you’re gonna be a star!”

But now, standing in the dim glow of a flickering streetlight, the warehouse loomed... weirdly quiet. No receptionist. No other artists. Just a text that dinged as I hesitated:

“Change of plans! Our main studio flooded. Head to 4500 South Mill Rd—better equipment anyway. And Ally? Don’t mention this to anyone. Label hates leaks.”

I chewed my hair. this feels off...*

But the thought of blowing my one big chance? Worse than stage fright. I swallowed hard and turned toward the new address—my stomach in knots as the Uber pulled away behind me.

Ally Dawson seemed like any other 18-year-old girl, except for the fact that she was Austin Moon's song writer. She had always grown up loving music and had aspired to become a famous song writer. She also dreamed of going off to music school to learn even more about music. She helped run her dad's music store called Sonic Boom. That is also where her, Austin, Dez, and Trish would meet up for their weekly meetings to discuss Austin's career. Things couldn't be going any better for the young song writer. Her dad's shop was going great, since business was booming ever since Austin had performed there.

One evening Ally was closing the store. She had done most everything up stairs except clean up the break room. Every time Austin, Dez, and Trish was up there, they would leave a mess. She sighed as she cleaned up the break room. She soon walked out of the break room and heard something pop down in the main part or the store. She stopped and looked around but didn't see anything. So, she, in turn, brushed it off, and shrugged her shoulders as she thought it was the store settling. She continued with her cleaning and was soon done. Ally headed towards the front door to lock it; she didn't know that someone else was already in the store.

As Ally closed, she was not worried about a break in or any danger like that. In the dark quiet store Ally was alone with her thoughts. In her head she was writing a new song for Austin. Her brain was always in song mode even if her body was in cleaning mode. She loved her friends but being the most mature and responsible usually left her alone with the clean up.

Her father did not always make Ally close the store alone but this time he had to make her do it. Ge trusted his daughter with the store. It was a family business and Sonic Boom was like her home. Not being used to the procedures of closing the store, Ally forgot to lock the front door at 10pm when it closed, instead she started cleaning, counting her register and all the other closing tasks. When she remembered she had not locked the door it was all ready to late for her.

The episode opens on a bright, sunny morning inside Sonic Boom, Miami’s most colorful and chaotic little music shop. Sunlight pours through the front windows, catching on rows of gleaming guitars that hang along the back wall like a rainbow of polished wood and chrome. A few keyboards sit on display stands, their plastic keys glinting in the light, while drumsticks, ukuleles, and tambourines spill from bins near the counter. The walls are plastered with old concert posters, faded but proud—Elvis, The Beatles, Lady Gaga—each one adding to the shop’s warm, slightly cluttered charm.

Behind the counter stands Ally Dawson, neat as ever and already in work mode. She’s dressed in a soft coral cardigan layered over a white blouse, her floral skirt brushing just above her knees, and a pair of ballet flats that match her hair clip. Her brown hair is curled at the ends, framing her face as she flips through a stack of freshly printed sheet music, lips moving silently as she hums a melody under her breath.

The bell over the door jingles now and then as customers wander in.