Monday morning broke over Homewood with a heavy, gray overcast, but inside Jarad’s bedroom, the atmosphere was entirely electric.
It was the third day since Wishing Well had hit the internet.
Jarad sat on the edge of his unmade bed, the harsh glow of his phone screen illuminating his face in the dim room.
He opened his SoundCloud app and watched the counter spin.
Plays: 984,112.
He was agonizingly close to the one million mark.
But as massive as SoundCloud was for the underground hip-hop culture, Jarad knew the reality of the platform in 2014.
It was the wild west.
There was no monetization program for independent kids recording in their bedrooms.
You could have ten million plays on SoundCloud and still not have enough money to buy a cheeseburger.
But YouTube was a completely different beast.
Jarad switched apps, loading up his YouTube .
He had uploaded the track there with a simple static image of a dark, starry sky just to have a presence on the platform.
The internet had done the rest.
Views: 692,405.
His eyes shifted to the top right corner of the screen, settling on the subscriber count.
He had to blink twice to make sure his tired eyes weren’t adding an extra zero.
Subscribers: 514,202.
The Twitch reaction from Kaze and Chance the Rapper’s massive co-sign had created a perfect storm.
Half a million people had subscribed to a channel with exactly one video on it.
Jarad stood up and paced across the small room.
But standing here now, looking at the raw data, he realized he didn’t need a label.
In 2014, the YouTube Partner Program was fully operational.
With over half a million subscribers and nearly a million views across platforms, he easily bypassed the monetization thresholds.
He could turn this viral moment into real, tangible income to help his mother pay the bills.
He just needed time to set up the AdSense account, link the banking information, and, most importantly, lay down the vocals for Life’s a Mess while the iron was scorching hot.
He threw on a hoodie, grabbed his backpack to keep up appearances, and walked downstairs.
The smell of black coffee and toasted bagels filled the kitchen.
Carmella was standing by the counter in her work clothes, quickly packing her lunch before she had to catch her train.
“Morning,” she said, glancing at the clock on the microwave.
“Eat fast, you’re going to miss the bus.”
Jarad took a deep breath and set his backpack down on the kitchen floor.
“Mom, I’m not going to school today.”
Carmella stopped dead in her tracks.
Her protective, strict instincts flared instantly.
She turned around, narrowing her eyes at him.
In the past, Jarad skipping school meant he was wandering the streets or getting high with the wrong crowd.
“Excuse me?” she asked, her voice dropping to a dangerously calm register.
“Are you sick?”
“No, I feel completely fine,” Jarad said smoothly, holding his ground.
“But I have a melody stuck in my head, and the inspiration is hitting me right now. If I go sit in algebra class for six hours, I’m going to lose it.”
Carmella crossed her arms.
“Jarad Anthony, you are fifteen years old. You cannot just skip your education to play the guitar.”
“Mom, look,” Jarad pulled his phone out and slid it across the kitchen counter. You are reading on g.com, the official source.
It was open to his YouTube dashboard.
“This isn’t just a hobby anymore. Half a million people subscribed to me this weekend. I hit the threshold for YouTube to actually start paying me for the streams.”
Carmella looked down at the screen.
She wasn’t entirely sure how the internet worked, but she understood numbers.
Seeing the massive subscriber count sitting next to a green dollar sign icon made her pause.
“I’m staying entirely sober, and I’m staying right here in the house,” Jarad promised, his voice soft but incredibly focused.
“I just need today to record the next song and figure out the business side of this. One day.”
Carmella looked at the phone, then back up at her son.
His eyes were clear, his posture was steady, and for the first time in a very long time, he looked entirely driven by something positive.
She let out a long, reluctant sigh.
“One day,” she pointed a stern finger at him.
“You stay in that house. You do not invite anyone over. And tomorrow morning, you are on that bus.”
“Thank you,” Jarad smiled, feeling a massive wave of relief.
The moment the front door locked behind her, Jarad kicked his backpack under the kitchen table and sprinted back upstairs.
He booted up his computer and immediately navigated to the YouTube settings.
He clicked the Monetization tab, reading through the partnership agreements.
Since he was under eighteen, he would eventually need his mother to legally link her bank account to his AdSense, but he could get the entire approval process started right now.
He clicked Apply, watching the screen load as he officially turned his art into a business.
With the paperwork out of the way, Jarad grabbed his acoustic guitar and pulled it into his lap.
He opened the Tumblr chat window on his monitor, seeing Ashley’s eager message from the night before waiting for him.
The business was handled.
Now it was time to make history.