Chapter One
Lisa is playing acoustic guitar and singing.
Whatâs up? Iâm down
When youâre not aroundâ¦
Itâs Friday after school. Weâre busking for change in front of the liquor store. Iâm on acoustic guitar and harmonica. I have the harmonica on one of those holders that loops around your neck. The guy at the music store called it a harp rack because harmonicas are also called mouth harps. It looks like the worldâs biggest dental retainer. Usually I play bass, but when we play outside, thereâs no place to plug in my amp.
Lisa sways as she sings. Itâs nice to watch, especially if you stand behind her like I do. Not only does Lisa have a killer voice, sheâs also hot. These are two big reasons why the open guitar case between us has money in it. Another reason is we sound goodâas long as I donât sing. Our duo is named Two. Our sound is sort of folky, but not too mellow. I keep the rhythm going. Lisa sings.
I could trip, I could fall
Would you hear if I calledâ¦
I wrote that. Iâm getting better at lyrics. Lisa and I write songs together a lot. When youâre only in grade nine and ten, there are not a lot of places to play, so we busk and we get together and write. Life could be worse. Sitting knee to knee with Lisa and making up songs is not a bad way to pass the time. She always has ideas. She has great knees too.
Over and over and over and over
Coming apart at the dreamsâ¦
Lisaâs voice goes high. The liquor store is busy. Friday afternoon is a good time to busk here. People leaving the store toss coins in the case. I have time to call âThanks!â before I close my eyes for my big harmonica solo.
Harmonica is new for me. My guess is that playing it is a lot like heavy kissing. You have to time your breathing in and out and move your tongue around and stuffânot to get too gross about it. Plus you have to know where to start. I havenât figured that out with kissing. Thereâs no one for me to practice with.
I have practiced harmonica though. My solo starts with blowing out on the fourth hole. I blow. The wrong note comes out. The next note is wrong too. And the next one and the next. What is going on? I have to keep playing, but itâs panic time.
This is a nightmare. Itâs as if everything is backward. Thatâs when it hits me that everything is backward. I have cleverly put the harp upside down in the rack. Oh. No.
Just as I figure this out, the harp starts slipping away like an elevator going down. The stupid wing nuts that hold the rack have come loose again. Aargh . I chase the harmonica down my chest, playing more horrible noise. Maybe I can pretend this is jazz. I keep my eyes shut. Maybe people will pity me if they think Iâm blind.
I hear Lisa saying âWhat are youââ I canât answer. Iâm bent double as I squish out the last awful sound. I open my eyes.
Thereâs a cell phone right in my face. âAAAAH!â I jump. The harp rack flies up and bonks my forehead. I yell again and grab my head. The harmonica pops out, bounces off my guitar and into the guitar case. I stagger into it too. Crunch. Change goes flying.
âAll right !â
âTrash it!â
âRock out!â
Three beefy guys with six-packs of beer and the I-need-a-shave look are cheering. They throw coins into the case. Some of them bounce off my foot.
âYou should be on Saturday Night Live ,â one calls as they walk away. I donât think he means as a musical guest.
âAce, are you okay?â Lisa asks. âWhat happened?â
Iâm still rubbing my forehead. I donât dare look at her yet. Instead, I glare at the owner of the cell phone that was just in my face. Itâs my friend Denny. I should have known.
âThat was so cool,â Denny says, looking at the screen on his phone.
âThanks a whole bunch, Den.â
âNo sweat,â he says.
Lisa is playing acoustic guitar and singing.
Whatâs up? Iâm down
When youâre not aroundâ¦
Itâs Friday after school. Weâre busking for change in front of the liquor store. Iâm on acoustic guitar and harmonica. I have the harmonica on one of those holders that loops around your neck. The guy at the music store called it a harp rack because harmonicas are also called mouth harps. It looks like the worldâs biggest dental retainer. Usually I play bass, but when we play outside, thereâs no place to plug in my amp.
Lisa sways as she sings. Itâs nice to watch, especially if you stand behind her like I do. Not only does Lisa have a killer voice, sheâs also hot. These are two big reasons why the open guitar case between us has money in it. Another reason is we sound goodâas long as I donât sing. Our duo is named Two. Our sound is sort of folky, but not too mellow. I keep the rhythm going. Lisa sings.
I could trip, I could fall
Would you hear if I calledâ¦
I wrote that. Iâm getting better at lyrics. Lisa and I write songs together a lot. When youâre only in grade nine and ten, there are not a lot of places to play, so we busk and we get together and write. Life could be worse. Sitting knee to knee with Lisa and making up songs is not a bad way to pass the time. She always has ideas. She has great knees too.
Over and over and over and over
Coming apart at the dreamsâ¦
Lisaâs voice goes high. The liquor store is busy. Friday afternoon is a good time to busk here. People leaving the store toss coins in the case. I have time to call âThanks!â before I close my eyes for my big harmonica solo.
Harmonica is new for me. My guess is that playing it is a lot like heavy kissing. You have to time your breathing in and out and move your tongue around and stuffânot to get too gross about it. Plus you have to know where to start. I havenât figured that out with kissing. Thereâs no one for me to practice with.
I have practiced harmonica though. My solo starts with blowing out on the fourth hole. I blow. The wrong note comes out. The next note is wrong too. And the next one and the next. What is going on? I have to keep playing, but itâs panic time.
This is a nightmare. Itâs as if everything is backward. Thatâs when it hits me that everything is backward. I have cleverly put the harp upside down in the rack. Oh. No.
Just as I figure this out, the harp starts slipping away like an elevator going down. The stupid wing nuts that hold the rack have come loose again. Aargh . I chase the harmonica down my chest, playing more horrible noise. Maybe I can pretend this is jazz. I keep my eyes shut. Maybe people will pity me if they think Iâm blind.
I hear Lisa saying âWhat are youââ I canât answer. Iâm bent double as I squish out the last awful sound. I open my eyes.
Thereâs a cell phone right in my face. âAAAAH!â I jump. The harp rack flies up and bonks my forehead. I yell again and grab my head. The harmonica pops out, bounces off my guitar and into the guitar case. I stagger into it too. Crunch. Change goes flying.
âAll right !â
âTrash it!â
âRock out!â
Three beefy guys with six-packs of beer and the I-need-a-shave look are cheering. They throw coins into the case. Some of them bounce off my foot.
âYou should be on Saturday Night Live ,â one calls as they walk away. I donât think he means as a musical guest.
âAce, are you okay?â Lisa asks. âWhat happened?â
Iâm still rubbing my forehead. I donât dare look at her yet. Instead, I glare at the owner of the cell phone that was just in my face. Itâs my friend Denny. I should have known.
âThat was so cool,â Denny says, looking at the screen on his phone.
âThanks a whole bunch, Den.â
âNo sweat,â he says.