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  Chapter 2

  I heard Delilah and Sarah arguing as soon as I burst through the front door after practice. They’re always arguing about something. You’d think that they’d get along better since they’re both girls. I’m the one who should be fighting with them. Delilah and I never fought. She’s twelve. We have nothing to fight about.

  Sarah and I have gotten into some interesting arguments. She doesn’t take teasing well, but I can’t help it that she’s a nerd and her constant studying drives me batshit crazy. Plus she’s dating the lamest guy in Mt. Vernon.

  His name is Roger for God’s sake!

  He drives a Camaro, always listens to gangsta rap like he’s “straight outta Compton”, and dresses like a frat boy.

  C’mon, that’s way too much ammo. What else did she expect from me?

  “Where are you guys?” I called.

  Two hours at football practice wasn’t enough to get rid of all my pent up anxiousness. My hands were actually shaking and sweating. Nothing is going to calm me down except the keys to my car. I resisted the urge to peek into the garage. My parents hate when I ruined their surprises.

  “In the living room,” my mother answered.

  The living room? We never used our living room unless my mother was hosting some Ladies’ Luncheon or something. Or my dad was having his work buddies over.

  I dropped my football equipment, muddy cleats and all, on the floor in the hallway and walked in the living room and they all were sitting on the sofa smiling at me. Creepy.

  “What’s up guys?”

  “Happy Birthday, Aiden!” they yelled in unison.

  “Thanks.”

  Delilah patted the empty space next to her. “Sit! We have presents!”

  I spied the long white box that my father slid across the floor as soon as I walked in. Definitely too big for car keys. Maybe it’s custom made floor mats? I stared at the box Dad was grinning over.

  “Open it, son.” He looked like he should have been sitting on his hands to contain his excitement. Obviously he thought that whatever was in the box would win him some cool points. If there’s no car in the garage, any cool point that he had is no longer going to exist.

  I slipped the shiny black bow off the box and lifted the lid. I stared down at a black and white guitar. It was autographed, although I couldn’t make out the signature if you paid me. I know my face had the same look of complete confusion that it had last week when I looked at my English Lit test on Pride and Prejudice.

  I hadn’t read the book.

  “Isn’t it great, son?” Dad asked, his voice at least an octave higher than I was used to. He used the same tone when we went to the Football Hall of Fame last year. He was super excited about seeing some old guys football jerseys. I wasn’t.

  “Umm,” I tried to think of the right words. “What’s this for?”

  “This,” he gently lifted the guitar out of the cotton bedding like he was lifting a sacred piece of art, “this is a 1958 Fender Stratocaster. And it’s autographed by Keith Richards.”

  Come on! I like music as much as the next guy but seriously, a guitar autographed by some dude I don’t even know? This can’t be my birthday gift. The thing looked like something Dad had in his office; one of his stupid collectibles.

  Where the hell is my car?

  I looked at my mom, hoping she’d come to my rescue and produce my real gift. My left foot started tapping against the soft carpet. This couldn’t be it. Not a damn guitar.

  “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it, Aiden? Dad won it at an auction in Chicago.”

  “You got Aiden a guitar?” Sarah tried keep the smirk off her face but I saw it. “What is he going to do with that?”

  “This guitar belonged to a legend,” my father explained. “I was lucky to win it. It’s worth a lot of money.”

  “Umm, thanks, Dad,” I faked a tight lipped smile and managed to mask my disappointment when he handed me the guitar.

  I’ve never held a guitar. The shiny thing felt strange on my lap. I don’t know what to think. It’s a guitar. I’m sure that some kid in the band would have jizzed in his pants as soon as he opened the box. I’m not that kid. This gift makes no sense.

  “Did guitar lessons come with that thing?” Sarah laughed.

  “Oh no, this isn’t to be played,” my father said. “It’s a collector’s item.”

  Geez-us! I almost stood up and walked out of the room. Not that I wanted to, but I can’t even play the thing!

  “Thanks for the guitar, Dad, but I thought I was getting car.” I forced a lighthearted tone in my voice instead of yelling. Yelling wouldn’t do any good.

  My father laughed. “Why would you think that?”

  “Umm, Sarah got a car when she turned sixteen. Why shouldn’t I?”

  “Your sister got a car because she hasn’t brought home anything lower than an A minus since she was in kindergarten,” my mother said. “She also has a job, Aiden. Her car wasn’t a birthday present. It was a reward for being a responsible kid.”

  “That’s right,” my father added. “You just brought your grades up to a B average this grading period. You still haven’t cut your hair or been that helpful around this house. At this rate, you won’t be getting a car until you graduate.”

  My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. It took years of experience to hide my disappointment from my parents. They do not handle it well. They think they’re the best parents in the world. When either me, Sarah, or Delilah express any kind of unhappiness, Dad gets angry and calls us ungrateful. This usually led to an hour long discussion on how bad it could be for us.

  Thankfully, my parents had dinner plans and I didn’t have to mask my anger long. As soon as they left, I buried the guitar so far back in my closet that in a day or two, I won’t even remember it was there. My father is going to regret getting me such a useless gift!

  Thirty minutes after my parents walked out the door, the phone started ringing. I knew it was my friends, wanting me to come get them in my new ride. I yelled at Delilah when she tried to bring me the phone. I couldn’t talk to them. It’s bad enough I have to see them in school tomorrow without a car. This is so embarrassing! I’ve done every single thing my father asked me to do and he repays me by getting me a guitar for my birthday!

  He can’t keep doing this to me.

  ****

  I didn’t mention my lame ass gift to my friends the next day. They saw how pissed off I was when I stepped out of Sarah’s car and not my own this morning. I thought I was in the clear but “pain in my ass” Jordan had to say something at lunch.

  “Hey Goldie Locks, what happed to the Firebird you were supposed to get for your birthday?”

  “Shut up,” I grunted. “Dad thought it would be cooler to get me a guitar.”

  “A guitar? Like a real live guitar?”

  “It’s not funny. What the hell am I supposed to do with a guitar? Plus I have to wait ‘til I graduate to get my car. I’m pissed.”

  “I don’t know why you thought you were getting a car anyway-”

  “I said shut up!” I yelled at Jordan. “I don’t want to talk about that dumb ass guitar!”

  “Maybe you can sell it and use the money to buy your own car,” Kevin spoke up. “How much do you think you can get for a guitar?”

  “Are you shittin’ me?” I practically yelled. “My father will murder me if I sell the damn thing!”

  “You got a guitar?” My best friend, Paulie slid his tray on the table and sat down.

  Paulie didn’t usually join us at lunch. He spends his lunch period with the debate team or working on something for the student council. Sometimes I wonder how we’re best friends. We’re completely opposite in pretty much every way.

  “Hey, Paulie,” Jordan said much too loudly. “Megan told me to ask you if you date white girls.”

  “Sure,” Paulie shrugged. “Why not? It’s not like Mt. Vernon has an abundance of black girls for me to choose from.”

  Paulie t
ook a bite of his cheeseburger and pulled a book out of his back pocket. This dude cracks me up. He’s always so serious. The chicks don’t mind. They adore Paulie. I hear them talking about him all the time.

  “He’s so smart. He’s going to Harvard, watch.”

  “Have you seen his eyes when the sun hits them? Swoon.”

  “Back to your guitar,” Kevin said. “What are you going to do with it?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Paulie put down his book, something about two cities, and asked, “What kind of guitar?”

  “A black and white one,” I mumbled. “It’s autographed by someone famous. It’s supposed to be a collector’s item. He could’ve gotten me Jerry Rice’s autographed football if he was going to get me something I can’t use.”

  “Jerry Rice?” Kevin shouted. “Dude, where are you from? Walter Payton, The Fridge…yes. Jerry Rice, hell no!”

  Paulie picked his book back up. “Who signed it?”

  “Some guy from The Rolling Stones. My dad’s a big fan,” I frowned. “I think the guitar is more for him than-” I stopped talking when I looked at Paulie’s face. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open.

  “Dude, are you okay?” I asked him.

  “Mick Jagger?” Paulie barely whispered. “Or Keith Richards?”

  “Yeah, that’s the name! Who is he?”

  Everyone at the table stared at me like I had said Pamela Anderson boobs were small.

  “Only one of the best guitarist players in the world!” Jordan yelled. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I don’t like rock music.”

  “The Rolling Stones are not just any old rock group,” Paulie choked out. “They are the best rock band ever! I can’t believe you have a guitar signed by Keith Richards.”

  “What’s the big deal? It’s just a guitar. It’s not a car.”

  “Aiden, you’ve got to let me see that guitar.”

  “Yeah, me too!” Jordan chimed in.

  Everyone at the lunch table wants to see this thing and is super excited about it. Was I missing something? Maybe I could use the lamest birthday gift ever to my advantage. If I let them see the guitar, maybe Paulie will give me the answers to our American History test next week.

  “Guys, chill out,” I laughed. “It’s not locked in a bank vault, it’s in my room. You can see it whenever you want.”

  “Today? After practice?” Kevin asked.

  “Sure, why not?”

  My mother is gonna flip out when I came home with Paulie, Jordan, and Kevin. She says that anything over two teenage boys in the house at one time requires mental preparation. So what. She shouldn’t have let my father buy me a useless guitar. She knew I wanted a car.

  Paulie made it to my house before the rest of us did…one of the benefits of not having to go to football practice every day. He was sitting on the couch listening to Delilah ramble on about cheerleading tryouts and gymnastic meets. Delilah can talk someone’s ear off when she gets started. I rescued Paulie and we all went to my room.

  The guys watched as I searched through my clothes and pulled out the white box from the closet. They gathered around in a semi-circle like I was going to reveal a map that led to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

  When I opened the box and laid the guitar on my bed all four guys inhaled sharply.

  “She’s gorgeous,” Paulie breathed.

  She?

  Jordan just stared at the thing. “I wonder if he ever played it.”

  “Probably. My dad got it in an auction. It wouldn’t be worth much if he didn’t, right?” I looked at Paulie, waiting for an answer. He’s the only one in the room who’s ever played a guitar so he should know.

  “It would be worth more if he actually played it.”

  “Can I hold it?” Jordan reached for the guitar. I’ve seen kids in candy stores not as fascinated as these guys are.

  “Man, how can you not like this thing? I feel like a rock star just by holding it.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do with it,” I replied sarcastically. “Sit on my bed and pretend to be Bon Jovi.”

  “I would love to be Bon Jovi,” Kevin piped up as Jordan passed the guitar to Paulie. “Sex, drugs, and rock and roll!”

  The guys started naming rock bands I’ve never even heard of.

  “I thought you only cared about Big 10 football?” I asked Jordan.

  “I am and that’s why I’m going to get recruited and you aren’t. Still, you have to be a complete idiot not to know who The Smashing Pumpkins are.”

  “Whoa, it’s almost six,” Kevin looked at my alarm clock. “I’ve got to get home. I didn’t tell my parents I was coming over.”

  “Me either,” Jordan added. “Check you guys later.”

  Paulie didn’t look up from the guitar. “See ya.”

  I literally heard the sigh of relief from my mother when my buddies walked past her in the kitchen and said goodbye. We hadn’t broken anything or made Delilah cry. Most importantly, we hadn’t interrupted Sarah’s study group.

  I took a seat on my bed while Paulie strummed the guitar strings. There was barely any sound coming from it. I burst out laughing. After all of the fuss that my dad made over the guitar, it doesn’t even work!

  “You really like that thing, don’t you?”

  “Man, this is a cool ass gift.”

  “Do you still play?” I’ve never actually seen Paulie play before, but I’ve heard him talk about it.

  “I haven’t in awhile, but yeah, I play,” he answered without looking up. His eyes lingered over the autograph.

  “So let’s hear it!”

  “You can’t really hear an electric guitar without an amplifier,” he informed me with a grin.”You really don’t know anything about guitars, do you?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing.”

  “You should show this to my dad. He’s really into stuff like this.”

  When it comes to fathers, Paulie lucked up. His dad is so cool! He doesn’t even make him play football like the rest of our fathers. Eric doesn’t bitch when Paulie goes a couple of weeks without getting a haircut. He doesn’t even give Paulie a curfew. He’s pretty chill. Dad calls him a hippie. I think my dad should take parenting lessons from Eric. I bet Eric would have bought Paulie a car if he asked.

  “Maybe I’ll bring it over next weekend,” I suggested.

  “Cool. Maybe Dad will tell us some stuff about Woodstock.”

  “Maybe he’ll let us try weed again.”

  Paulie sat the guitar back in the box. “You never know. I guess I should get home.”

  “You can stay,” I insisted. “We’re going out to dinner when my dad gets here. You can come too. My parents won’t mind.”

  “Cool. Hey, let’s call Megan and Marcie and see what they’re up to.

  “Sure!”

  I glanced back at the now boxed up guitar. I don’t care how cool my friends thought it was, I still don’t want it. It’s not worth more than a Firebird. I don’t care if the damn thing never sees the light of day again.

  Chapter 3

  For weeks after my birthday every single thing that happened was so boring. School, football practice, football games, and back to school again. I was so bored that I wanted to rip out all my hair just to have an excuse to cause a little excitement.

  I trudged across the parking lot with my cleats slung over my shoulder, wishing I could be anywhere but in the school parking lot.

  “Hey Aiden,” Paulie yelled from across the lot. “Dad wants to know when you’re coming over with your guitar!”

  I shrugged my shoulders as I walked towards the football field. My father gave me the world’s most useless birthday present over a month ago and it’s still in the box stuffed inside my closest. I hardly take it out unless my father wants to show it off. My friends aren’t even interested in the thing anymore.

  Most of them, anyway.

  Paulie jogged up to me so I stopped walking. “What�
�s up?”

  “What are you doing after practice?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “Nothing. Why?”

  “You wanna come hang with me and my Dad. He’s gonna bring a couple of pizzas.”

  My father could use some fatherhood lessons from Paulie’s dad. Eric doesn’t interfere in Paulie’s life the way that my dad does in mine. He always says that boys should be left alone to find their own paths in life.

  My dad doesn’t feel that way. Dad has my entire future mapped out in his head. The only thing he needs is a dry erase board and it would be plastered on my wall, like Sara’s plan. Apparently, I don’t have a choice what I want to do with my life. I’m just expected to go along with what my father says is best. That sucks.

  “Sure, I’ll come over,” I told Paulie. Hanging out with him was better than sitting in my room playing video games or watching my mother cook dinner.

  I had to beg my mom to bring my guitar and take me over to Paulie’s when she picked me up from practice even though we were going in the same direction to pick Delilah up from gymnastics practice.

  “Aiden, you know I don’t like to go into that apartment complex when it’s dark.”

  She acts like Paulie’s neighborhood is so bad they could have filmed Boyz in the Hood there. It’s not. Their apartment complex even has a security gate. Trust me; Paulie’s complex was just as safe and boring as our subdivision.

  She finally relented and dropped me and my guitar off, only after I promised that Eric would bring me home. When I walked into the Pitts’ apartment, Eric and Paulie were sitting on the floor eating pizza right out of the box and watching a documentary about Woodstock.

  “Hey Aiden, how’s it hangin’ man?” Eric asked. Sitting on the floor with his legs crossed and a paper plate in his lap, no one would have guessed that Eric sells houses. But as he often says, that’s just his job. His life is totally separate.

  “A little to the left,” I joked.

  “Heard you got a pretty awesome gift for your birthday?”

  I slid the box across the floor. “That’s what they say. Take a look.”