Newbie Nick

by Lisa McManus

  “But, Nick, you are good!” Shark was still sitting in the chair. I looked down at him and he continued. “Despite the other kids’ playing, I can hear you play when I walk by you in class. Sure everyone needs practice, but unlike them you have been practicing all summer. And it shows.”

  I was sweating under my T-shirt and hoodie. Now I was really anxious to get away.

  I shrugged. “I dunno. I’m still thinking about it.” I had to get out of there. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, especially about something I wasn’t really sure about yet. And I felt bad misleading Shark about my summer practicing.

  Shark’s words broke into my guilty thoughts. “I think you should really give it a try, Nick. You have nothing to lose.” Only earn another nickname, I thought. He continued. “There is no entry fee to the competition, only great prizes.” He didn’t need to remind me of that. “You have come such a long way since last year, Nick. You would be so great!”

  His attention was drawn to the guitar. His forehead wrinkled in confusion as he fiddled with the tuning pegs. “I think this guitar is fine Nick—nothing wrong with the strings. Just keep it tuned.” He said with a smile as he handed it back to me.

  As I packed it away, I suddenly regretted asking for extra practice time in the classroom every day. It was like I was committing to being in the competition. I still hadn’t made up my mind about entering. Those prizes danced around in my head, teasing me, forcing my decision.

  And I didn’t want him thinking of me as a charity case again, either. For now, I just wanted to get out of there.

  “Um, thanks for this, but um, you know what? I changed my mind. Just forget I asked. It’s no big deal. About the lunch hour practicing, I mean. It’s fine.” I didn’t look at him.

  He was quiet, and then said, “Well, I’ll leave it up to you, Nick. I’ll leave the door unlocked, and you can lock it after you get in so no one bothers you.” We both knew who he was talking about. “And I’ll leave some sheet music on the corner of my desk of different songs you can try if you want. Think about it.”

  “Um, okay.” I latched the guitar case shut and shrugged on my backpack.

  He stood up and patted me on the back as we walked to the door. “Come every day if you like. I’ll be in the staff room if you need me. The competition is a month away. You have plenty of time to practice, and you can still take the guitar home every week, if you like.”

  I made my way to the door, wishing he would stop being so nice to me. The nicer he was the guiltier I felt in lying about how I used the guitar on weekends. But it wasn’t like I was truly lying, I told myself. I was practicing.

  ***

  I thought about it all evening and by the next morning I had made my decision. I would only be using the room, nothing more. It wasn’t as though Shark would be there helping me. I would still be doing it all on my own.

  As I snuck into the music room later that day, I didn’t see Beau anywhere. I didn’t need him thinking of me as a “suck up” any more than he already did. I saw Shark in the hallway. Luckily all he did was give me a nod and didn’t say a word. Josh knew what I was doing, and would cover for me if anyone asked where I was at lunch. He was also too busy chatting-up Amanda and her friends, which was fine by me.

  I went to the music room, locked the door, and pulled out my guitar. Math was after lunch, then guitar class after that. I knew the music room was empty after lunch. Too bad I couldn’t just skip math and stay in the classroom all afternoon. My mom would kill me if I skipped math.

  It was too bright in the room with the overhead lights on, so I turned them off. It was perfect. The only light was from the classroom windows, so I could still see my sheet music. Plus I felt a little more hidden with the room a bit darkened – like I had more privacy. And this way, with the lights out, no one would think anyone was in the room. I hoped the lunch hour noise from the hallway would drown out anyone hearing me. Even though the music room was sound-proofed, I still worried.

  I pulled out my guitar, set-up one of the class’ music stands, and grabbed the stack of sheet music from beside Shark’s computer on his desk. I flipped through them all, recognizing some songs and putting aside others I knew were too hard. For now it was better to warm up with what I knew before tackling something new, so I pulled out my tattered music book from last year and started playing.

  As I played, inching my fingers up and down the neck of the guitar finding the right frets and chords, I let go and let the music carry me away. I concentrated on getting every chord, every note. For a moment it felt like Grandpa was beside me. With the wood of the guitar vibrating under my fingers, I could almost hear him coaching me on.

  I kept playing, switching to other songs I knew, and I was just trying another song when the bell rang. Crap. I only had a few minutes to pack up.

  Just as I was scrambling to get my stuff together, I heard a key in the door and in strode Shark.

  “Hey Nick! Glad you came in!” He flicked on the lights. “How did it go?”

  I was kind of annoyed. It wasn’t his fault the lunch hour was over. He was kind enough to let me use the room, so I shouldn’t have been so irritated by him. I had to get out of there, and fast. I didn’t want him encouraging or helping me any more than he already had, and I was worrying other kids would see me.

  I threw my music book into my backpack and made sure my math books were in there. “Um, it went great. And, uh, thanks for letting me use the room. Is it okay if I leave it here until guitar class?” I motioned to the guitar.

  And again, Shark was giving me the same strange look as before – like he was trying to figure out what I was up to. “Sure, Nick, no problem.” As I hurried past, he asked, “Be here at lunch tomorrow?”

  I didn’t even look at him as I left the room. I just called out over my shoulder, “Ya, thanks.”

  “Oh and Nick…”

  I tried not to groan. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone?

  Trying not to let my impatience show, I stopped at the door and turned to him, smiling. “Don’t forget about the competition,” he started. “I still think you have a great shot at it.”

  “Ya, thanks. I’ll think about it.” I tried to fake a smile, but knew I was doing a crappy job.

  As I hurried to my math class, all I could think about was how guilty I was—for everything.

  Chapter Six

  In all my rush trying to juggle school, my so-called job, and practicing for the competition, time had whizzed by, bringing me closer to what I was now calling “doomsday.” The competition was fast approaching and I was really starting to think the whole thing was a bad idea. There just wasn’t enough time to prepare. But I had to try. The prizes were just too good to pass up.

  One morning at the bike racks, Josh raced up and skidded to a stop at my feet. “Hey man, did you hear?” he said as he locked up his bike.

  Aw geez, here he goes again. I just knew he was going to launch into a story about Amanda. I didn’t answer him, and he kept on talking.

  “You know Brock? Beau’s brother?” he tried to say conspiratorially under his breath.

  “Ya, what about that jerk? He and his brother are no different.” I didn’t want to have to think about Beau right now. I had too many other things on my mind.

  Josh went on. “Beau and his brother were brought into the police station last night. They say his brother mugged some old man who got really hurt. Brock and Beau are saying they were just playing a prank, and that their goofing-off got out of hand.”

  “What a bunch of idiots.” I couldn’t believe people could be like that to each other. “So are they still at the police station? Was Brock arrested or something?”

  “No. They were never arrested. Their dad, who is a real jerk anyways and is probably super pissed off, apparently smoothed things over, what with him being a lawyer and all. The good thing is that they aren’t at school for the next few days.” He looked at me pointedly.

  This might be a good day, after
all.

  Josh slung his backpack over his back. I slung my own backpack over my shoulder and picked up my guitar, and then fell in step beside him. As we walked toward the school I asked him, “How did you hear about all this in one night?”

  “Um, duh, Facebook?” At the look on my face, he stopped. “Aw, sorry man. I forgot you don’t have a computer at home.” Josh is a good guy and means well. He just forgets himself sometimes.

  And with a guy like him to always fill me in on stuff, who needs a computer, anyway?

  I was quiet as we climbed the steps to the front door, and then he belted me in the arm. “Hey! I have a great idea! My mom and dad are giving me a new laptop for Christmas. How ‘bout I give you my old one?”

  That stung.

  I know he was being nice, but I found it really hard to be nice back. Why couldn’t I be like everyone else? Why did everything I own have to be second hand? Why were people always trying to help me? I was sick of it.

  “Na, you can keep your dumb old computer. I’ll get my own,” I spat out, frustrated.

  “Hey, I’m sorry, man, I was only trying to…”

  I glared at him, then turned and stormed off in the other direction. I didn’t care how nice he was being. I didn’t need his charity.

  ***

  Lunch time came, and by then I had cooled down. Guilt ate at me, and I was dreading seeing Josh again. As I headed to the music room, I passed Josh in the hallway. He was talking to Amanda at her locker, and as I walked by, he gave me a thumbs-up behind her back. I guess my being a jerk earlier was forgotten. He had been working up the nerve to ask her out on a date, so things must have been going well for him. Great for him, but I had better things to worry about. I promised myself I would apologize later.

  I locked the music room door behind me and immediately shut off the lights. I jumped and almost dropped the guitar when I saw Shark at his desk. It’s kinda freaky coming into a dim room to find a huge hulk of a man hunched over his desk in the dark corner.

  “Oh, hey, Nick! How’s it goin’?” He finished doing something on his computer, and then stood.

  “Fine.” Trying to be nice I said, “Hey, uh, Shark? Thanks a lot for letting me practice here at lunch. I’m not sure how much it’s helping, but…um…ya.”

  “Hey, Nick, no problem.” He grabbed his bag from under his desk. “And if you decide to enter the competition, and need extra help or pointers, let me know.”

  I went and found my usual spot in the dark corner, where no one could look through any windows and see me.

  “Um, sure. Thanks,” I muttered as I opened my guitar case.

  “And remember, there are only about two weeks left before the competition.”

  What?

  The look on my face must have showed how surprised I was.

  “Ya, Nick, it’s barely two weeks to go. No pressure or anything, pal, but you might want to make up your mind soon about whether you are going to enter or not.”

  Two weeks? Already? I couldn’t believe how fast time had gone. Maybe I didn’t read the dates on the ad right, or…Whatever, it didn’t matter now. I had to make up my mind, and fast.

  Just as Shark was about to open the door, he turned to me and said, “Give it some thought, Nick. You are good. You have to believe in yourself. Give yourself a chance and prove to yourself you can do it.” He pointed a finger at me to emphasize his point “Ignore everyone else. Entering the contest in the first place is half the battle. Most guys won’t even have the guts to enter. Show ‘em you do.”

  “But I…” I stood there like an idiot.

  He was halfway out the door when he stuck his head back in. “And heck, with all the practicing you have been doing, you easily have the rest of them smoked.”

  My face was numb. He didn’t know. There’s no way he could know. I was paranoid. I was over-analyzing every word he said, sure he was dropping a hint and letting me know he knew about my job busking downtown. If he knew, he surely would have done something, like call my mom or take the guitar away.

  Na. I shrugged it off. There is no way.

  I set up my guitar and a music stand and started playing. I kept working through a song I was considering entering into the competition. Determined to be perfect, I focused on the chords. Even though I still wasn’t sure about entering, I figured I might as well keep practicing it. Just in case.

  I guess I lost track of time, because before I knew it, I heard the key in the door. I jumped, my fingers tumbling over the strings, sounding much like I did when I was first learning to play. In walked Shark just as I glanced up at the clock. Did I miss the bell?

  “Hey Nick. It’s almost time for class!”

  Aw crap. I started packing up.

  “Sorry, Shark. I lost track of time.”

  “Don’t worry about it, pal. That’s what happens to a real musician. You get so wrapped up in your music, nothing else matters.”

  “But I’m not a…”

  Shark cut me off. “Nick, you are a real musician. Someone who is as committed to your instrument and your music as you are is a real musician. Even if you are not Beethoven or Bach, even if you are not the guitarist for The Rolling Stones, which,”—he held up a finger to stop me before I could say anything—”anyone could be if they put their mind to it.” He stopped to let his words sink in.

  The bell rang – this time I heard it – and it interrupted any chance I had of arguing with him.

  I threw my backpack over my shoulder, tucked the guitar in the corner of the room for later, and made for the door. Just before I left, I turned back to see Shark staring at me. “Thanks again, Shark. I’ll think about what you said.” It seemed like the appropriate thing to say. “See you later.” And with a small wave, I booked it down the almost empty hall to math class.

  The rest of the day went fine. I apologized to Josh during guitar class and told him I would think about buying his old laptop one day. He was fine with that, and was more intent on telling me about Amanda. As happy as I was for Josh, I was happier for me as Beau wasn’t around to chant “Newbie Nick” as I walked by. His lame buddies tried lamely tried to take up where Beau left off, one of them weakly calling out the dreaded nickname as I walked past., My harsh stare had them stopping before they could really get going. Without their leader, they were nothing. I didn’t let them bother me.

  ***

  The next day I headed to the music room at lunch. The competition was less than two weeks away, and I had to make up my mind about what I was going to do.

  The lights were already off when I got into the classroom, which was strange. I barely had a chance to wonder why when I heard it—the first few chords of a song over the classroom speakers.

  It was a solo performance; some dude on an acoustic guitar. Just as I wondered if Shark left on a radio or instructional CD or something, I saw him sitting at his desk. Watching me.

  As the song played, I realized it was the same one I had been practicing over and over for the competition I might enter. Man this guy is good.

  “Hey, this is really good…” I started to say, but Shark cut me off.

  “Shhh…listen.” He held a finger to his lips and smirked.

  What the…? Whatever.

  I went to my usual corner and started setting up. Just as the familiar song came to an end, it was interrupted.

  The player’s fingers garbled up the last few notes just as a voice in the background said, “Hey Nick. It’s almost time for class!”

  What? I looked over at Shark in confusion. He was sitting at his desk, calm as can be, with a smug look on his face. Another voice came over the speakers.

  “Sorry, Shark. I lost track of time.” Was that me?

  “Don’t worry about it, pal. That’s what happens to a real musician. You get so wrapped up in your music, nothing else matters.”

  “But I’m not a…”

  I was beyond confused. That sounded like Shark and I yesterday. What? Why? How?

  Shark came aro
und his desk and sat down in the chair beside me. I looked at him with what must have been the stupidest look ever. “What was that?”

  “It’s a recording I made on the computer.” Shark chuckled. Although I was faintly amused, I was more confused than anything.

  I tried to play along, trying to make as light of it all as he was. “Well duh, I figured that part out. But why did you record us?”

  “Before I answer that, tell me: what did you think of the recording before you heard you and me talking?”

  That stumped me. Was this a test?

  “Well, I thought the guitarist was fantastic. He was really, really good. Is it an instructional CD or something?” I gave him what had to be yet another stupid look. “But what are you and I doing on there?”

  Shark studied me for a second then his big face broke into a huge grin. “You don’t get it, do you pal? That’s you.” He pointed his finger at my chest then at his computer. “That’s you playing.”

  I still didn’t get it.

  He continued. “Before you came in yesterday, I set up the computer to record your practice session. You needed to hear yourself play. Don’t you see, Nick? You are good! You don’t realize it, but you are. You said so yourself when you thought it was some other guy…”

  “Why did you do this? Why? What was the point?” I tried not to shout at him, but couldn’t help it. Where I was mad and embarrassed, I also felt like I had been ambushed; cornered. I stood up, ready to bolt, itching to get out of there.

  It was the last straw. I felt like every time I turned around, someone was trying to help me when I didn’t want it. I was on a roll and kept going. Shark just listened and didn’t say a word.

  “Is this about that stupid competition? And why are you always trying to help me? I don’t need anyone’s help. I can do this on my own. I need to do this on my own. I just want to play. On my own. Haven’t you heard idiots like Beau calling me ‘Newbie Nick’?”

  “Ignore people like Beau. Let me explain, Nick.” Shark shifted in his chair and leaned closer to me.