Baby, You're a Rich Man

Chapter 14

Wednesday morning met me with an out-of-tune chorus of "Happy Birthday" from Pete.

"Thanks for remembering," I muttered, rubbing my eyes and sitting up.

"Come on!" Pete retorted. "I'm not just going to forget about my best friend's golden birthday."

"Oh yeah, I suppose it is," I said blankly.

"So how does it feel being sixteen?" he asked me excitedly.

"Tiring," I answered with a yawn and slumped back into bed for a few more minutes of sleep.

In chemistry class, an unexpected item flying at me from Patty's direction nearly hit me in the stomach.

"Whoa," I muttered, catching it reflexively.

"Happy birthday, loser," she told me.

I turned the item over in my hand. It was a small, lightweight, rectangular case, and on its front side, someone had labeled it "Buddy Holly Greatest Hits Compilation."

I opened the case and pulled out what was inside. "A cassette tape? Cool!"

Patty smiled. "I thought you might like it."

"I love it," I told her. "Except...I don't have a cassette player. My parents might at home, but I dunno."

"There's one in the library but it's pretty much broken beyond repair," she pointed out.

I chuckled and tossed the cassette tape into my bag.

"Ritchie could probably fix it," she told me dreamily. "He's pretty good with his hands."

I sighed glumly, longing for a subject change. "Well thanks for the present."

"I got it at a garage sale over Christmas Break," she replied flatly. "I couldn't not buy it for you, especially when it was staring me in the face like that...but it's not like I went out of my way for you or anything."

"I still appreciate it," I said, wondering why she thought it was so important where she got it.

"Just don't get to thinking I care about you or anything," she added.

I nodded grimly. "Message received...I guess."

Later that day, Pete had the nerve to tell Professor Benedetti about the special occasion, and she made the entire class sing "Happy Birthday" to me in Latin ("Laetus natalis, tibi..."), but other than that, my birthday was fairly uneventful.

That night, I checked out a few books on 1930s records, hoping to find the missing puzzle piece I was looking for. I spent the night in my room, reading, and growing increasingly more frustrated with the books for not telling me what I needed to know, and with whoever lived next door to Pete and I, for playing Dark Side of the Moon nonstop for a week on end.

"Hey, I love this song!" Pete exclaimed, as the intro riff for the tune "Money" began playing over the sound effect of clanking coins.

I sighed. "Haven't you been listening to this over the past week? He's been playing it every night."

Pete shrugged. "It must be coming through your wall because I never hear it."

As Pete played his air guitar throughout the duration of the song, I picked up my real guitar, plugged it into my amp, and began fumbling through the notes.