I was fast asleep when Jian burst into my room, shaking me awake.
"Zelda, Zelda, wake up. You have to see this."
Groggy, I rubbed my eyes. "What? What's going on?"
"Come on, wake up! Someone is destroying your page, ruining you as an artist!" she said, her voice filled with urgency.
I sat up, trying to process her words. "What do you mean?" I asked, still half asleep. I assumed she was talking about my design career and my dream of becoming a fashion designer.
"No," she said, frustration in her tone. "I'm talking about your page as Noelle, the composer and producer."
My heart skipped a beat. I suddenly felt more awake, more alert. "What happened?"
"Look at this first," she said, grabbing her phone and pressing play on a video.
It was Susan, singing my song—the one
