the first beats of the song to start up.
“Since when do you play Guitar Hero?”
“You’re back,” I said and looked over. “Oh my God, what happened to you?” Logan had a jagged cut under his eye that had a butterfly bandage on it.
He shrugged. “Nothing really. A small fight. I’m fine.”
“You were in Boston again?”
He nodded.
I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it. “Do you want to play?”
He picked up the second guitar. “You mean, do I want to kick your ass? Hell yeah.”
Jamie leaned against the door frame, staring at me curiously. “What’s gotten into you? Poker the other night. A game of pool last week, and now this? Who are you and what have you done with the real Phoebe St. Claire?”
“She’s branching out,” Logan offered.
“Jeremy taught me,” I added.
“When are you bringing this dude over? I need to thank him for bringing my friend out of her shell, breaking through her reserve.”
“You know I can’t invite him over here.”
“No, I don’t know that. Give up the game and tell him who you are.”
“Jamie, it’s not a game. And you don’t understand.”
The music kicked in and the screen displayed the note chart. I focused on the bottom of it. More specifically, on the target line with the five color-coded discs that corresponded to the top-down order of fret buttons on the controller. Still, I couldn’t catch the beat. I had lost my concentration.
“Here, give it to me,” Jamie said.
I handed him the guitar.
He strapped it on and started playing. Right away, the color-coded gems slid along the fret lines toward the target line with ease. He hit the matching fret buttons and strum bar at the same time the gems hit the target line. He was good. Almost as good as Jeremy.
When a small flame burst above the gems on the screen, he yelled, “Fuck, yes.”
His score was ridiculously high when he finished. He turned to Logan. “Just call me master.”
Logan took his stance. “Fuck that, you know I’m the master.”
Jamie rolled his eyes and then turned to me. “The key to scoring is timing. It really helps if you know the song so playing the Sex Pistols when you listen to top forty isn’t going to help you. And then there are the HOPOs.”
“The what?” Jeremy had yet to mention them.
“HOPOs: hammer on and pull-off notes. It’s Guitar Hero lexicon.”
“That’s too much information.” I turned to watch Logan, who was going to town on “Free Bird.” Another classic rock song. I got it now and Britney would be my strategy the next time Jeremy and I played.
Logan jammed out the last of the song with his fingers moving so fast I was in awe. When he finished, he gave Jamie his classic head bob and waved the guitar in the air. “Who owned who?”
Jamie pouted. “Rematch.”
“Hey, I hate to leave you both but I have to get ready. Jeremy is picking me up in thirty minutes.”
Jamie gave me a narrow-eyed glance. “Let him at least come in past the door this time.”
“I have. But no one ever notices.”
“We’ve talked a few times,” Logan vouched for me.
“See,” I said to Jamie and left it at that.
I ran up the stairs to get changed. Lily had taken off for St. Bart’s yesterday with some guy she met at a party but left most of her wardrobe behind for me. I rifled through her closet and found a simple white dress with an empire waist. Jeremy was picking me up in his mother’s car instead of his motorcycle so I could actually wear a dress. Tonight he wanted me to get to know his best friend, Kat. Kat was a petite girl. She had jet-black hair and bangs and looked like a kewpie doll.
I really didn’t like her but my reason was stupid—she knew Jeremy so well and he called her Kit-Kat.
I was jealous.
I knew I shouldn’t have been. Jeremy spent all his free time with me. When he wasn’t working, he taught me how to drive, to play pool, to master Guitar Hero, how to have fun, how to be spontaneous—he taught me how to
“Since when do you play Guitar Hero?”
“You’re back,” I said and looked over. “Oh my God, what happened to you?” Logan had a jagged cut under his eye that had a butterfly bandage on it.
He shrugged. “Nothing really. A small fight. I’m fine.”
“You were in Boston again?”
He nodded.
I could tell he didn’t want to talk about it. “Do you want to play?”
He picked up the second guitar. “You mean, do I want to kick your ass? Hell yeah.”
Jamie leaned against the door frame, staring at me curiously. “What’s gotten into you? Poker the other night. A game of pool last week, and now this? Who are you and what have you done with the real Phoebe St. Claire?”
“She’s branching out,” Logan offered.
“Jeremy taught me,” I added.
“When are you bringing this dude over? I need to thank him for bringing my friend out of her shell, breaking through her reserve.”
“You know I can’t invite him over here.”
“No, I don’t know that. Give up the game and tell him who you are.”
“Jamie, it’s not a game. And you don’t understand.”
The music kicked in and the screen displayed the note chart. I focused on the bottom of it. More specifically, on the target line with the five color-coded discs that corresponded to the top-down order of fret buttons on the controller. Still, I couldn’t catch the beat. I had lost my concentration.
“Here, give it to me,” Jamie said.
I handed him the guitar.
He strapped it on and started playing. Right away, the color-coded gems slid along the fret lines toward the target line with ease. He hit the matching fret buttons and strum bar at the same time the gems hit the target line. He was good. Almost as good as Jeremy.
When a small flame burst above the gems on the screen, he yelled, “Fuck, yes.”
His score was ridiculously high when he finished. He turned to Logan. “Just call me master.”
Logan took his stance. “Fuck that, you know I’m the master.”
Jamie rolled his eyes and then turned to me. “The key to scoring is timing. It really helps if you know the song so playing the Sex Pistols when you listen to top forty isn’t going to help you. And then there are the HOPOs.”
“The what?” Jeremy had yet to mention them.
“HOPOs: hammer on and pull-off notes. It’s Guitar Hero lexicon.”
“That’s too much information.” I turned to watch Logan, who was going to town on “Free Bird.” Another classic rock song. I got it now and Britney would be my strategy the next time Jeremy and I played.
Logan jammed out the last of the song with his fingers moving so fast I was in awe. When he finished, he gave Jamie his classic head bob and waved the guitar in the air. “Who owned who?”
Jamie pouted. “Rematch.”
“Hey, I hate to leave you both but I have to get ready. Jeremy is picking me up in thirty minutes.”
Jamie gave me a narrow-eyed glance. “Let him at least come in past the door this time.”
“I have. But no one ever notices.”
“We’ve talked a few times,” Logan vouched for me.
“See,” I said to Jamie and left it at that.
I ran up the stairs to get changed. Lily had taken off for St. Bart’s yesterday with some guy she met at a party but left most of her wardrobe behind for me. I rifled through her closet and found a simple white dress with an empire waist. Jeremy was picking me up in his mother’s car instead of his motorcycle so I could actually wear a dress. Tonight he wanted me to get to know his best friend, Kat. Kat was a petite girl. She had jet-black hair and bangs and looked like a kewpie doll.
I really didn’t like her but my reason was stupid—she knew Jeremy so well and he called her Kit-Kat.
I was jealous.
I knew I shouldn’t have been. Jeremy spent all his free time with me. When he wasn’t working, he taught me how to drive, to play pool, to master Guitar Hero, how to have fun, how to be spontaneous—he taught me how to
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