by Lisa McManus
I was hot all over. I shoved my hands in the pockets of my hoodie. It was bad enough I had made this arrangement with him to use his classroom during lunch, never mind accepting the loan of the guitar. I had taken it too far, and now he was going to feel like he had to help me more. I didn’t want his help. I was sick of living like a poor person, always needing help from others. My mom and I had always struggled, and despite it all, we always made things work. Somehow. But having one more person, no matter how nice he thought he was being, was not what I wanted.
I stood there looking everywhere except at him. The clock on the wall ticked.
“Nick, I’m sorry if I pissed you off. I’m sorry if you feel betrayed I recorded you without your knowledge. But you are a great player, and you need to give yourself a chance. If you don’t enter the competition, fine. But at least know you do play really well. I know you don’t want anyone’s help. I get that. But just like you can choose to enter the competition, you can choose to think positively about yourself. You can also choose to let Beau get to you and bring you down. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Shark got up and walked over to his desk to fiddle with his computer, leaving me standing there. He wouldn’t look at me, and suddenly I realized I couldn’t exactly blame him for that. I had been a jerk, yet at the same time had meant everything I said.
His words floated around my head as I stood looking out the window. It had started to rain. The choice was mine. I didn’t have to enter the competition. I didn’t have to live on other people’s handouts, either. I looked at the clock and realized lunch was almost over. I didn’t get in any practice time, but right then I didn’t care. All I wanted was to leave.
Shark came around his desk and handed me a CD. “Here. Take this. Take it home and listen. And think about everything I said.”
He pressed his lips in a thin line and his eyes narrowed like he was trying to read me. Then with his hands in his pockets he left the classroom.
I skipped the rest of school. My mom would freak when she found out. It was pouring outside, and I didn’t care—it suited my mood just fine. I caught the bus downtown and, maneuvering my bike and guitar around puddles, I found a covered area in the doorway of a closed-up building. I sat down and started playing. Not for money, not for attention. Just for me. I played and played, and thought and thought.
Chapter Seven
Later that night I lay staring up at the ceiling. My mom was still not home from work, which was fine by me as I needed time to think.
Playing downtown earlier was exactly what I had needed. When I first got there, I was still buzzing with everything going on and could barely play the first few chords. Before I knew it, everything was behind me. The music helped me to forget. It was the reason why I played.
Despite the earlier escape, I still didn’t care I had hurt Shark’s feelings. And I didn’t care I would get the third degree from mom about skipping school.
I looked at the CD Shark made me. It still felt like Shark had betrayed me for some reason. Half of me wondered if it was really me playing on the recording. But it was; I had heard our voices.
Curious, I put the disc in my CD player, and as the first few chords of the song began, I listened. Really listened. Even though I knew it was me playing, I was determined not to take Shark’s compliments to heart. As a teacher he was paid to say nice things.
As the song continued, I was impressed. That was me? I cranked up the volume, the song filling my room. I lay on my bed, closed my eyes, and suddenly I was imagining myself up on stage, playing. I was imagining winning—even third place. As the song neared the end, I could see me with the guitar from Mike’s Music Store in my hands, and Mom with her necklace, and…
“Nick!”
I bolted upright, and there was my mom, scowling at me. She knew. I hopped off the bed and hit the CD player.
“I just got a voicemail from the school saying you weren’t in afternoon classes. It was that ‘Shark’ guy you so frequently talk about.” Oh, great, now he’s calling me at home. She continued. “Why did you skip class? Where did you go?”
Even tired, she could still pull off that mother stare. The same stare that always makes me squirm. “I just had some stuff to sort out, you know?”
“No, I don’t know. There is nothing to know. You go to school, you stay in school and you get good grades as best as you can. And what stuff did you have to sort out?”
In a flash her face changed from irritated to concerned. How she does that, I would never know. She took a step forward. “This isn’t like you. Are you okay? Did something happen?”
“Well, I…” Before I could finish, the CD started up again at full volume like it was before. My song filled the room.
I leaned over to turn it off, but my mom held up a hand to stop me. She motioned for me to sit on the bed. She listened to the whole thing, her face blank. Then, at hearing my voice on the recording, she looked at me and grinned.
“So that’s you, huh?” She looked so proud, I thought she was gonna burst.
Embarrassed, I looked down at my wet socks, soaked from the rain. “Uh, ya.”
She crossed her arms and gave me a smug look. “Well, I’m not surprised.”
“What do you mean?”
“What I mean is that I’ve heard you practicing.” Before I could apologize for keeping her up at night, which was an unwritten rule I sometimes forgot and broke, she held up her hand to stop me. “Stop. There is no need to apologize. It’s not like you were practicing on drums.” Before I could say anything, she continued. “You really should think about competing in that music competition.”
I gave her a sharp look, and she must have misread me as she narrowed her eyes in exasperation. “You know – the competition? The same one advertised on our fridge for the last few weeks? Nick, if you didn’t believe in yourself before, then with this” —she waved her hand toward the CD player— “you have to. Grandpa taught you well. Just listen to yourself play! Listen to your heart and give yourself a chance. Just try. You have nothing to lose.”
Except being called Newbie Nick for the rest of my life if I screw it all up I wanted to say, but didn’t.
She gave me her classic mom stare and as she left my room she said, “Dinner’s in ten minutes. You have a lot of thinking to do.” We both knew she didn’t just mean the music competition. There was also the topic of my skipping classes.
***
The following weekend was perfect. I made some decent money, it didn’t rain, and my mom worked all weekend. I mean, not that I’m glad she worked all weekend. It just meant I could stay downtown for as long as I wanted, for as long as my fingers could play. The gloves from the old lady sure helped.
The next week, Beau stayed away from me. The gossip had died down about him and his brother, and things continued as normal. Josh was too busy with Amanda to hang out with me, even though I was busy most of the time, anyway. I still went to the music room at lunch to practice every day, and Mom had a few extra shifts during the weeknights so I could practice without bothering her. She never got around to the topic of me skipping those classes, which was fine by me.
Shark was nice to me, but he didn’t go out of his way to help me. It was like somehow he and everyone else knew I needed space.
And I had made up my mind. I was going to enter the Mike’s Music competition. I realized maybe I wasn’t so bad after all. I had listened to the CD a zillion times, and watched people’s reactions to my playing when I was downtown. I decided I didn’t care about what Beau and the others said.
It was my mom buying me a new shirt one payday when hers had been repaired too many times that sealed the deal. I wanted that locket for her. I wanted the guitar so bad I could feel its sleek exterior in my hands. I wanted to get something of my own without anyone’s help. I was determined to win something in the competition. With what I already had saved and if I at least won the third place prize of $100, I knew I could get both. I wasn’t getting cocky, I k
new I wouldn’t win, but I had to plan, just in case.
With a week left, I signed up on the Friday before the competition. Signing up after school when no one was around was perfect; I didn’t want any attention, especially from Shark. Then I high-tailed it out of there and met Josh at the bike racks. Amanda and Felicia were just walking away when I approached.
“Hey Nick, how’s it goin’?” Josh said elbowing me as he watched them leave. After I packed my guitar onto my bike, we rode through the school field.
“Fine, I guess.” I shrugged as I pedaled and looked down, trying to hide the smirk on my face. Suddenly, I was excited about the competition and itched to tell him about it. I would tell him and Mom, but not quite yet. I wanted to get used to the idea myself.
“Do you see that girl with Amanda?” Josh nodded to where Amanda and Felicia were walking away. I think he forgot he had already told me about Felicia liking me. With everything going on, I hadn’t the time, or the care, to think about her anyway.
Aw geez, I thought, here we go again. So I indulged him. “Ya, what about her?”
“That’s Felicia, you know? Amanda says she’s been asking about you.” Josh looked over at me from his bike. He was trying not to smirk and was doing a crappy job of hiding it.
Trying to be nice, I said, “Oh, has she? That’s cool, I guess.” I paused, then, ”You know Josh, I just have too much…”
“Ya, ya, ya, I know. You have too much going on, what with your guitar and all. Ya know Nick, you gotta get out a bit.”
He was right. Maybe after the competition, and maybe if and when I couldn’t play downtown anymore, I would “get out a bit.” But just not now.
We neared his house. “You’re right, Josh. Maybe after the comp…” I stopped myself just as his mom came out their front door and called him. How had I almost let that slip?
He waved to his mom then turned his bike up the driveway. He obviously didn’t hear what I almost blurted out. “Gotta go, man. I guess you’ll be downtown this weekend?” He looked at me, and I knew he was hoping we could hang out or something.
“Ya, I’ll be there most of the weekend, but maybe on Saturday night do you wanna come over and hang out?”
“Ya, gimme a call,” he said over his shoulder as he pedaled up his driveway.
I had a full weekend ahead of me, so I started home, with thoughts of the competition and the money I hoped to make on my mind.
Chapter Eight
There I was again, at the same spot with the case open at my feet. And this time instead of peanut butter and jam, my mom indulged and I had ham and cheese. It was super sunny out, but also very cold. I could see my breath and everyone else’s. All that mattered was that the streets were busy and my case was looking good with all the coins and bills inside.
With my sunglasses on, I strummed as I watched the people go by. I was enjoying the sun, and it was just me and my guitar. My excitement from the day before from signing up for the competition had faded a bit. I was enjoying myself at that moment, yet I was on a bit of a roller coaster. One minute I was excited and then the next I felt like chickening out. I was second-guessing myself. Was I really ready? I still had a week to go, and I could always pull out from the competition.
I had just started my second song and was halfway through it when I saw her—the little old lady with the blue, scuffed shoes.
“Hi!” I smiled at her as she came closer. I checked the placement of my fingers for a second as I looked down, and when I looked back up, she was standing in front of me holding out a coffee cup. I stopped playing. “What’s that?”
“It’s quite chilly out here, and I figured you needed something to warm you while you sit on that cement.” She nodded at the curb I was sitting on, and held the cup closer to me. “It’s hot chocolate. You’re too young for coffee,” she said with a smirk.
Hesitantly, I took the cup. Although it was thoughtful of her to do that, I didn’t want her always bringing me stuff. And what would people passing by think? Like I was a street person accepting handouts or something?
“Uh, thanks. Thank you very much!” I brightened. I didn’t want to seem rude. She wasn’t treating me like a charity case. I knew she was only being nice. But still…
“You’re welcome,” she said with a smile, pleased I had taken the hot chocolate. “Have a nice day.”
She turned to leave. I took a sip then said, “Wait.” She stopped and turned. “Would you like to stay a while and listen?” I asked. Then, feeling stupid that I hadn’t asked her earlier, “And, um, what is your name?”
Her big smile told me it was the best thing she could have ever been asked. “My name is Mary. Mary Wilcox. You can call me Mary. And yes,” her smile grew bigger with every word, “I would love to stay, but only for a minute as I have an appointment.”
I nodded and started playing. She stood to the side watching, and had that same look Mom gets when I show her some good school marks; like she’s proud of me, or something.
For a while I forgot about the cold air, my hot chocolate, and Mary standing there. When I was done, I looked up. I was so lost in the song I was playing that, at first, I didn’t notice Mary leaving. I watched her walk down the sidewalk for a moment, and then leaned over to grab my cup. When I looked up again, I saw them.
Mary had just rounded the corner between two buildings. It wasn’t an alley, but it wasn’t a busy place with lots of people, either.
And there were also two people who shouldn’t have been there: Beau and Brock.
I tried to shrink down as far as I could. With my sunglasses on, and my hat from my backpack, I knew they wouldn’t recognize me. It would be game over if they did. I had come this far without anyone seeing me. So I kept playing, trying to look as normal and invisible as possible.
It was when they stepped in front of Mary, purposely blocking her path, that I stopped playing. I watched as they laughed and elbowed each other, making gestures toward her. She shook her head as if to say “no,” and tried to get around them. But as she tried, they shadowed her movements and stayed in front of her, all while still laughing and gesturing.
I clenched my teeth as I watched them taunt her. My face grew hot and goose bumps crept up the back of my neck. I frantically looked around. Everyone was too busy with their shopping to notice what was going on. A group of tourists blocked my view for a moment and after they passed, what I saw made the goose bumps on my neck quadruple. Beau and Brock had started following Mary after she had finally made her way around them. The direction she went wasn’t any busier with people, either. There would be no one to help her if she needed it. She kept looking over her shoulder at them. I think she was saying something, like telling them to go away or whatever, but every time she did, they laughed. Just then, Brock poked hard at her shoulder.
I had to do something. I was torn—I couldn’t move. I couldn’t let them see me. Those stupid idiots, why couldn’t they leave her alone?
I had to get someone’s attention before they got too far away. I leaned over my guitar case, and tried to flag down some guy who walked by. “Hey, can you help…”
The guy barely looked at me as he mumbled, “Get a real job, kid.”
What an ass.
I could see Brock and Beau still following Mary up the street. They were almost at a corner and soon I wouldn’t be able to see them anymore. Just then, Brock reached out and made a grab for her purse. She stumbled, trying to hold on to it, but Brock’s grip was stronger. Beau reached out and pushed her in the shoulder, and that’s when I moved.
I bolted across the street with cars honking in my wake. Instinctively, I had brought the guitar with me. I knew I couldn’t leave it back there. With the guitar under my arm, I dodged cars and people as I ran; all my focus on Mary and those jerks.
Just as I got close, I saw that Brock had Mary’s purse in his hands. The terrified look on her face was something I would never forget.
“Hey!” I yelled.
They both turned
at the same time, and in a flash their faces went from mocking amusement, to guilt at being caught. Then, when they realized it was me, they each sneered.
“Hey, Newbie! Watcha doing here?” Beau started in on me.
I ignored him. “Leave her alone. I saw the whole thing.”
I went to grab her purse out of Brock’s hands, but he held it up and out of my reach. He passed it to Beau, his eyes trained on me.
“Whatcha gonna do there, Big Guy, with your guiiiitar and your stupid sunglasses?” Brock advanced on me and flicked the brim of my cap with his finger like a bug, sending it flying off my head. I didn’t flinch; didn’t move. I shifted the guitar from under my arm and tightened my grip on the neck as I stared at him.
He ripped the sunglasses off my face and threw them on the ground. I snuck a glance at the old lady. She had stepped back up against a building. The fear in her eyes only angered me more.
“Beau, give her back her purse.” I stared down Brock while I enunciated each word directed at his stupid brother. I never knew I could sound so cold and demanding. I barely recognized my own voice.
“Sure thing.” He gave her back her purse, all right. With a sneer, Beau chucked it at her feet. Brock and Beau watched, waiting to see what I was gonna do. Mary didn’t move.
“You guys leave her alone. Don’t you have anything better to do than steal purses?” For good measure I added, “I already had someone call the cops on you. They’re on their way.”
Thinking and hoping the threat of cops would make them run away, I let my guard down. I stepped around Brock, Beau still beside him, and leaned down to pick up Mary’s purse.
As I did, the world instantly spun as a knee whammed right into my gut, stealing my breath. I dropped the guitar, my arms immediately holding my stomach. As I was crouched over, one of them punched me in the ribs.
I swayed and saw stars. In my blurred vision I could barely make out the guitar with Mattheson High School stamped on the side. Mary’s shoes were a blur, and I could just make out her crying and pleading with them. Just when I thought I would throw up, I got a kick to the side of the head that sent me flying. At the last minute, all I remember was feeling something soft cushioning my fall and hearing more crying from Mary.
