Guitar Notes (13 page)

Lyla opens the door. The hallway is empty.

 OCTOBER 23. THURSDAY.

“Hello.” Tripp looks into the camera and freezes. He stops and resets it so that the camera is focused only on his hands, not on his face. He starts again. “Here’s my tip of the day. One way to get a cool percussive sound out of your strum is to stop the strings from vibrating with your palm. Try strumming once, then instead of strumming again, just thump your right hand down on the strings, then strum again normally. Experiment with the rhythm.…”

He demonstrates and moves on to another tip. Before the period is over, he uploads four tip files, posts them on YouTube, and sends Lyla the links.

 OCTOBER 24. FRIDAY.

Lyla pulls the notebook Tripp gave her from her pocket and rereads the lyrics for her guilt song, wishing that she could slip through the laws of time and space and float in a bubble of invisibility. If she could, she’d spend as much time as she wanted writing songs. Instead, she is supposed to meet Annie by her locker and go shopping with her mom to pick out new performance outfits.

Her phone buzzes. Annie. Reluctantly, Lyla puts away the notebook, closes her locker, and answers as she starts walking.

“Hey, Annie—I’m just leaving my locker now and—”

“Why didn’t you tell me first?” Annie’s voice is clipped with anger.

“What?”

“The talent show. If you wanted to do a solo, you should’ve told me first. And since when do you play the guitar?”

Lyla’s heart pounds. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Where are you?”

Annie hangs up.

Confused, Lyla changes direction and heads toward the music wing. The sign-up sheet for the talent show is posted in the hallway outside the orchestra room. In Tripp’s handwriting, her name is written in the 4:30 audition slot:
Lyla Marks guitar and vocal solo
.

The orchestra room door opens and Annie walks out.

“Annie! Tripp wrote that. It’s a joke. Look, I’m crossing it off.”

“Tripp?”

“We were talking about the talent show, and he was joking about how I should play the guitar instead of the cello, and then he must’ve written that.”

Annie glares, turns without a word, and begins walking down the hall toward the front entrance.

Lyla follows. “Don’t be mad.”

Annie keeps walking.

“Come on, Annie. Stop.”

Annie stops, pressing her lips together, her eyes darkening. “I asked you the other day what’s going
on between you and Tripp, and you said nothing.”

“We had a conversation. Do I have to report every single conversation I have with anybody?”

“I’m not mad, Lyla,” Annie says quickly. “I just know he’s not right for you. He’s abnormal, Lyla. He doesn’t have any friends and—”

“Annie, you’re talking about him like he’s a boyfriend. He’s not. Forget it. Look, I’m not doing a solo. It was a joke.”

They stand looking at each other awkwardly. Then Annie looks at the place on the sign-up sheet where Lyla had crossed out what Tripp had written. “You’re not going to do a solo?”

“No.”

“Do you still want to go shopping?” Annie asks.

Lyla winces internally and tries not to show it.

“Now what?” Annie’s eyebrows raise. “You can’t go?”

Annie gives her an opening, and a lie comes spilling out. “I want to, Annie. But my dad called and said that I have a dentist appointment. But we can go this weekend!”

“Whatever you say, Lyla.” Annie walks away.

“Don’t be mad at me!” Lyla adds. “Be mad at my dad. Or the dentist. Or my teeth.”

Annie disappears, and the hallway is quiet. She feels guilty but also relieved. A long walk home sounds just right. She waits until she’s sure Annie is gone, and then heads out. In front of the school, the maple tree is blazing red against the brilliant blue sky. Every leaf seems
to be singing with color. She takes a breath and starts walking.

Her phone buzzes, and she is happy to see Tripp’s name. “You got me in trouble with Annie,” she says. “The guitar solo sign-up thing …”

“I didn’t think about that. Sorry.”

“Yeah. I’ll get you back.”

“Are you threatening me with revenge of some sort, Ms. Even?”

“I’m signing you up for the talent show audition. Four twenty time slot. Don’t be late.”

“Villain! Erase it.”

“What good is playing music if you don’t share it?”

“Music doesn’t have to be shared to be worthwhile.”

“Yes, it does.” She crosses the street. “Otherwise it’s like one hand clapping.”

“If I’m alone in the forest and I sing a song, isn’t that good for my soul? Isn’t that worth something?”

She laughs. “Okay. True. I sing in the shower.”

“Aha!”

“But music is better if it’s shared.”

“Have you ever sung in public?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I play the cello. That’s what I do.”

“Bawk
.”

“I’m not the chicken. I’m auditioning for the talent show with Annie.”

“Okay. I will admit it. I’m a chicken. Erase me.”

“The truth comes out.”

“Did you erase me?”

“I never wrote you in.”

He laughs. “Good. Well, I hope the rest of your day is … odd.”

She laughs. “Oooh. Well, in that case, I hope the rest of your day is nice and even. Bye.”

“Adios.”

She closes her phone.

Lining the street is a row of old oak trees, each one holding up its chorus of crimson and gold leaves. Lyla looks up and smiles as a cool breeze rustles her hair.

Whenever she’s with Annie, she feels tense, but when she talks with Tripp, something nice happens inside her: a vibration, a thrum. It’s as if a tiny wind chime is suspended inside her soul, she thinks, and his words are the wind that makes it ring.

 OCTOBER 25. SATURDAY.

 OCTOBER 26. SUNDAY.

Tripp is playing in the little room when his cell phone buzzes. He brightens when Lyla’s name appears.

“Hey,” he says. “It’s against the rules to use cell phones during the school day. Where are you?”

“In the girls’ bathroom.” Lyla giggles. “I’m calling because I’ve got a dare for you.”

“If it has anything to do with the girls’ bathroom, I’m not doing it.”