Baby, You're a Rich Man

Chapter 5

Pete left the dorm for chess practice that night, so I had the room to myself to complete homework and practice guitar. After plowing through my math worksheet, reading a few pages for history class, and jotting down a few notes about aluminum in my chemistry notebook, I drew the beat-up Harmony guitar out of my case and began playing an old classic.

I could sing...at least I think I could. You see, nobody, not even my parents, had ever heard me sing. I had played guitar for them, sure, but I refrained from actually singing unless I was completely alone. I'd never taken a voice lesson before so the only way I had taught myself to sing had been by imitating other rock stars' voices. I didn't really know how good of a job I did of it, but that was how I sang. Tonight was one of those nights when I was alone, free to play guitar and sing at the same time without fearing judgment. However, when I heard a knock on my door, my performance drew to a startling halt.

"Come in! It's unlocked," I called, a tinge of annoyance in my voice.

The door creaked open to reveal my lab partner from science class. "Hey..." she started slowly. "I just came in here to ask about something for our aluminum project and..." Her voice trailed off. "Was that 'Oh Boy!' by Buddy Holly?"

I grinned sheepishly. "Yes it was. Now what do you want?"

She ignored my question. "But that song's ancient."

"Classics never die," I replied firmly.

"Well yeah, but..." she still looked awestruck, as if she couldn't believe I was actually holding a guitar in my own nerdy hands. "I would have never pinned you as a guitar player," she admitted finally. "But I guess if you're gonna play anything, Buddy Holly is the most suited for you."

"My entire image is based off of Buddy Holly," I told her, pushing up my glasses coolly.

"I know," she replied, looking amused. "That's why when I asked the front office for the room number of 'the kid who looks like a cheap Buddy Holly knockoff,' he directed me here."

"Ouch, that hurt," I muttered half-jokingly, looking at the floor. "But my name is Charlie, for future reference."

"I'm Patty," she replied. "Short for Patricia, obviously, but that's a mouthful, and my middle name, Simone, isn't much better, so just call me Patty."

"Hey Patty," I tried awkwardly.

"So if you're gonna imitate a rock star, why not someone cool?" she continued, intrigued.

"What do you mean?"

"Well why not someone like Elvis...or John Lennon."

"Well Elvis is a poseur," I said, "and John Lennon...well let's just say it's still too soon."

"The Beatles broke up three years ago," Patty laughed. "I think it's about time the world gets over it."

I shook my head. "Rock 'n' roll is never going to be the same."

"Well don't you think that's for the better? I mean, come on, Led Zeppelin is fantastic. And Dark Side of the Moon is better than anything the Beatles ever did. Music is the best it's ever been."

"We can agree to disagree," I replied stubbornly. "I mean, those bands are great too, they just aren't..." I wanted to say that they weren't what I had grown up with, but then I realized that Patty was around the same age as me. And after all, Buddy Holly had not exactly been within my time either, since he had died when I was barely a year old—the only way I had learned his music had been by listening to my parents' old LPs. But the truth was, Led Zeppelin and Pink Floyd, while great, had never personally inspired me. However, since that was not a good enough reason to declare certain artists inferior to others, I surrendered the point.