Chapter 3: (THREE) Music, High And Sweet

17:44 18 May

All of my fingers hurt after a bit, and I had some trouble stretching them properly to reach the right spots because of inactivity and the size of my hands, but it seemed like my weird talent for picking up an instrument and sounding good within an hour or so was still in effect, which was cool. I hadn’t tested that in a while. I’d gotten pretty good back when I played it, too, and my body’s muscle memory seemed to have stuck around in the intervening year, which helped.

After about an hour and a half I took a break to stretch my fingers and get some water, then sat down at my desk chair and spun around a couple times. My hands were sore, so the best thing to do was obviously to turn on my computer.

Twenty minutes later I was staring bemused at the tumblr account I now possessed. Why? No idea. Because it was there? But I guess I was a blogger now. Cool.

YouTube’s a thing, right? Yeah. Cool.

I spent a good hour online before I decided to go back to my guitar. It was easier on my fingers now that I’d limbered them up, but a bit harder on my fingertips. Still, I managed to mess around without fumbling too badly, and pretty soon I just closed my eyes and lost myself in the music.

I don’t know how long I played that time, but when I finally sighed and cracked my fingers and gave my shoulders a good roll, I looked up to see Mom leaning against my doorframe with a fond sort of expression.

I pulled the guitar strap off and tucked some hair behind my ear.

“Hi.”

“Hey, kiddo. You looked like you were having fun.”

“Yeah, it was nice. It’s been a while, but I was talking to some of the band kids and I decided I kinda missed it.”

She nodded, and smiled, then told me it was time for dinner, so I put the guitar away and followed her downstairs.

###

I woke up in the morning, and – yep – still thirteen. Aces! Life was good.

“Good morning, world!”

I got out of bed and stretched. God, it was weird. Like, I really wanted to do stuff I liked, and take care of myself. I threw open my curtains and leaned on the windowsill like a Disney character and sighed. Well, I could examine my mental processes later. A shower seemed more important, and then breakfast.

Over the rest of the week I eased back into my ordinary life. Bailey and I fell back into our easy rhythm and the pangs of guilt faded, I got Kelly and Andrew and Max’s numbers so we could all text, school let out on the 20^th (Middle School graduation did not become less boring the second time, but it was kinda nice to have easy finals without the worry of them looming over me for weeks beforehand), and after multi-hour sessions I got to the point with my guitar that I decided I might try bringing it to the beach party thing. Sure, they might all think I was an asshole, or I could get some tips! Given my recent life experiences, I decided to be optimistic.

Saturday rolled around, and Bailey showed up a little after noon. I’d been on the couch in pajamas enjoying Saturday morning cartoons (God, you never know what you’ve got until it’s gone), so Dad let her in, and she came and flopped down next to me.

“Hey, Bay,” I offered.

“Hey, Jay.”

I passed her a ginger ale, and we switched to Cartoon Network and watched Totally Spies! for a while. In the kitchen, the phone rang and Dad answered. Then he came into the living room.

“Hey, Jack?”

“What’s up?”

He sighed a little. “It’s your uncle.” I knew which one he meant, too. I sighed back. I guess I have to talk to him some time.

“Be right back.” I hopped up and into the kitchen so he could pass me the phone.

“Hello?”

“Jackie-boy! I want to see my favorite nephew this weekend, what do you say?” Yep, it was Uncle Dane.

“Sorry, can’t, I’m busy.”

“Oh, come on. What’s so important, kid?”

My mental wellbeing and personal relationships, I didn’t say. “I’m hanging out with Bailey and the band geeks.”

He made a sound that probably corresponded with a distasteful expression. “Why don’t you spend your time with the football team instead, man up a bit? Those people are all sissies or fags.”

I somehow managed not to chuck the phone across the room at more of the same filth he’d poured into my brain half my childhood, but it was a close thing.

“Fuck you, you bigoted prick,” I spat out, then slammed it into the cradle real hard and threw my head back and screamed, which was pretty cathartic.

It was really quiet when I stopped to breathe, and I looked to see Mom, Dad, and Bailey all staring at me, equally stunned. I swallowed.

“Um, can we please not talk to Uncle Dane anymore?”

Mom nodded slowly. Dad kept staring like he’d never heard any of the words I used before.

Which… he probably hadn’t, from me anyway.

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Oops.

I decided to act like nothing happened, and walked back over to the couch.

“Did I miss anything?”

“Jay, what was that?” Bailey asked, all quiet-like. My parents were talking in the kitchen at a similar volume.

I sighed again. “He said I should hang out with the football players to ‘man up’,” I made air-quotes, “instead of hanging with ‘sissies and fags’.” Air-quotes again. She made a disgusted expression, which mirrored my feelings precisely.

“He said that?”

“He’s not a nice person, Bay. It just… took me a while to figure that out.” A loooong while.

She shook her head slowly. “I always figured he was kind of a bad influence, but damn.”

“Yeah. Can we get back to the show?”

We did, and Mom and Dad never came over to talk to me, so either they decided not to or they were waiting until Bailey wasn’t here. I was betting on the latter.

Around three, I headed up to my room to throw on some day clothes, and Bailey followed me up.

“Hey, you think it’s cool if I bring my guitar?” I asked while I frowned into my dresser drawers.

“Yeah, definitely. Kelly’ll be psyched.”

“Cool.” I sighed.

“What’s up?”

“I dunno. I just get bored sometimes.” But guys’ clothes were supposed to be boring, I figured. Thirteen or twenty-six, I just never really liked how I looked. And they didn’t get any more interesting as you got older. “I need a flannel or something, liven it up.” I shrugged and shook my head. “Anyway, it’s not that important. Can you run my guitar downstairs while I get dressed?”

“Yeah, sure.”

I threw on a pair of tan cargo pants and a dark gray Iron Maiden t-shirt. I thought about a hoodie. I didn’t really need it, though – I was all young and skinny and bendy, I was happy with my body again and okay with people seeing me. Wasn’t I?

Hm.

Not sure what was going on there, emotionally-speaking, I should probably examine that closer. I grabbed a hoodie anyway. Worst-case scenario, I’d overheat, but that wasn’t real likely at the beach in May. Besides, it felt familiar.

I grabbed my cell and a beanie and left the room. Bailey handed me the guitar case after I got my shoes on, and then we hopped in Dad’s truck.

“There’s going to be an adult there, right?”

“What, you don’t trust me?” I said, mock-offended. Dad just gave me a flat look, and I grinned. “Yeah, the band teacher’ll be there, right?” Bailey nodded, so I did too. “Right. And I have my cell, so if something happens I’ll let you guys know.”

###

“Hey, guys!” Bailey called as we came into view of the band kids. Everyone was sitting around a firepit on logs and blankets and stuff. It wasn’t windy enough for the fire to be a problem, but it was windy enough I was glad I was wearing a beanie so my hair wasn’t constantly in my face.

“Yo, Bailey, Jack!” Kelly yelled, waving vigorously enough that Andrew scooted a bit away from her on the log. Her eyes lasered on my guitar case. “No way, you brought it?”

I nodded and grinned. Once we got a little closer, Kelly ran through introductions for all the kids there I didn’t know, and I immediately forgot every one of their names, but I shook hands and smiled and stuff. The band teacher, Mr. Terrance, was probably somewhere in his thirties (and I’d always thought he was old! Hah!), with short brown hair, a short beard, and a polo shirt.

“Nice to meet you, Jack,” he said. He nodded to my guitar case. “You play?”

“I try!” I shrugged, a little self-conscious.

“Well, you want to show us a little?”

“Sure, if that’s okay.” I popped the case and pulled out my guitar, then someone graciously offered me a stump. What should I play…

I had a lot of New Order and Sonic Youth and Joy Division bouncing around in the back of my head, but I had a feeling those wouldn’t be real familiar to most of these kids, so I dipped into /music/2000s in my brain instead and settled on Fireflies by Owl City, which I’d spent probably an hour practicing over the week. I found the fingering, closed my eyes, and started. I almost fumbled something when Bailey and a couple other people started singing along, but I worked through it and joined them instead to cover it up. It was nice, liking my voice, high and clear and bright. I wonder if there’s a way to stop it from breaking, if you catch it early enough?

Then I played Teen Age Riot, which sounded kinda funny acoustic. Only Bailey and I seemed to know the words, but when we finished I saw Mr. Terrance giving us a curious look. Guess he didn’t expect a couple of people younger than him to have good music taste. I smiled and looked around.

“Thanks, Bay. Now we just need someone on drums,” I joked. Kelly immediately started flailing a raised hand to volunteer.

I was kidding, but…

“Hey, Bailey, Kelly, you wanna start a band?”

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