Anyone Can Play Guitar

Prologue

I sat uncomfortably in my family's old Ford Expedition, staring unceasingly out the window as cornfields slowly but surely turned to grassy plains. The people who had told me that Iowa's cornfields stopped at the Minnesota border had lied. Instead, the corn became gradually less plentiful, until you realized suddenly that everything you had grown up with was shifting before your eyes.

"So what was the point of moving to Minneapolis on a Thursday?" I asked for the umpteenth time.

"I've already told you, Evelyn," my mother sighed, "our purchase of the new house just got finalized, and your father wanted to get a start on his new accounting job."

"Right," I sighed bitterly. "But I've lived in Iowa my entire life. I don't know why you picked my junior year to finally move."

"I know it's not a good time for you," my dad told me sympathetically, "but your brother is just starting middle school. This is definitely in his best interests."

"But what about my best interests?" I muttered, quietly enough that nobody else heard me. After receiving straight A's for two years of high school, I had been preparing to take the ACT, a test that would ultimately determine what kind of college I would be accepted into. I had finally found a group of friends that I could relate to. This seemed like the worst possible time to start afresh, with new curriculums and with the title of
"new kid" for the first time in my life.

I glanced over at my twelve-year-old brother Jared, who was in the middle of an intense gaming session on his Nintendo DS. Sighing, I slipped my headphones awkwardly over my thick-lensed glasses and turned my music up to full volume.

"We're here!" I heard a faint voice yell over the sound of a driving drum solo. I pulled my headphones off and sat up groggily. Had I really fallen asleep? However, surely enough, our car had just pulled into the sloped driveway of a decent-sized, two-story house.

"What do you think, kids?" my father asked proudly.

Jared nodded in approval. "Nice."

I managed an accepting half-smile. "Passable."

"Well let's go in!" my mom said excitedly, before adding, "And Evelyn, Jared, you'd better get a good night's rest. You've got a big day of school ahead of you."

"Crap," I hissed. "I have homework to do."

"Don't be silly," my dad chuckled. "You haven't even started school yet."

"Yeah, but ACT prep," I told him hastily, "and it wouldn't hurt to check what assignments are due for tomorrow and see if any of them are doable."

Jared rushed inside, and I followed closely behind, carrying my backpack over one shoulder and my headphones and iPod in another.

The inside of the house was dainty, with a staircase leading to the second floor, a living room with red and white wallpaper and a matching rug, and a small but accessible kitchen.

"Your rooms will be upstairs," my mom announced. "There should be one for each of you, and it's first come, first serve."

Jared took off up the staircase. I sighed and dragged myself after him, knowing that I would end up with the less desirable room.

I followed Jared into a small room with orange wallpaper, decorated with ballerinas wearing lavender leotards. A pink, queen-sized bed sat in the corner.

"Eek, I'm out," Jared said, and then he turned around, leaving me in the ugly ballerina room.

I chuckled as I stared at all of the tiny figures dancing on my wall. I did a noble thing for a middle school boy who doesn't want his manhood brought into question, I thought to myself, and I slumped down onto the bed, dropped my backpack to the floor, and prepared to start my new life.