The Boy and His Guitar

Prologue

What is music?

Well, as I fished for a dictionary, it says here, that it is the art of arranging sounds, or the sounds that produce effect.

But who cares what the dictionary says anyway? Besides, we all know that.  And if your not too dumb to actually notice, you know and have experienced music, that is, if you weren't born deaf. 

But even deaf people have their own sense of music.  To agree, or not to agree? It's alright really, it will always be your choice to decide whether I put here, is even true or not.  So as long as you understand then there's nothing to worry about, right?

I am Adriel, I am 14.  I have black hair, dark brown eyes, that you'd easily mistake them for black.  Facts are: At this bright and annoyingly hot morning, I am currently, stuck in the middle of traffic.  And was apparently, gonna be late for my recording. 

Another fact is, I hate being late, I hate becoming a burden to others, and since I was gonna be late, my other band mates, who were already there, was gonna wait for me, and sadly, I knew we would all have to push our schedules a little more.  And our lunches, I guess.  Because of me, me.

"Damn it," I whispered beneath my breath.  Since mom and dad were sitting right in the front row of the car.  And I don't really want them to hear their daughter cursing behind their backs.  Because you see, cursing in my family is like living the deadly seven sins.

It was hot, inside and outside of this car, it was so damned hot.  I mean, no amount of air con can seem to erase the fact that this car was too old for it's capacity and that summer was also fast approaching. 

Sweat poured from my face, to my  neck, and finally to my chest, until my green shirt was drenched with my perspiration. 

Why? Why does it always have to be me? I thought desperately to myself.  Why does it have to be me? stuck in this car? Stuck in this traffic? Because seriously,  it really sucks to be me now.

Another text in my phone came, I sighed, this was not the first text message I received this morning, and they weren't really much of a friendly greeting either, more like, come here now, and your life shall be spared, come later, and you shall die a slow, slow death. 

Nonetheless, I opened the message and it said: Ms. Hale, where are you? Your classmates are all here, waiting for your presence.

My eyes grew wide, "Oh no.  M-my teacher, messaged me? Sir PJ messaged me?!" I said aloud, not intending to.  Because if there was somebody in the car who didn't want to hear another word of complaint from me, it was my mom.

But to my relief, all she did was look back, annoyance clear on her face.  She then turned to my dad, scowling.  "If you came earlier to fetch your daughter, we wouldn't be in this situation Drake." My mom's name is Chelsea, she has short black hair, beautiful dark brown eyes and has the stance of a composed, smart woman.  Many say, I look like her, actually, they say I am her exact clone, and I wouldn't really beg to differ too.

My dad grunted, "This was a busy morning, and if our son wasn't sick, we'd all be zooming towards the-where was this recording of yours again?"

Well, as you must've read, my dad's name is Drake, he's in his forties, but he just does not look like it, I guess it's because of the so much exercising programs that have been held and the time he's attended all of them, and sometimes teaches.  And usually those physical fitness programs were composed of martial arts, tai chi, and all that yin and yang.  He has short black hair, and deep dark brown eyes, so you see whom I take over, I thought to myself sarcastically.  And lastly, my dad's an avid fan of Bruce Lee.  So it explains, right?

I exhaled, trying to understand my situation, trying to get things processed in my brain.  I am Adriel, I am going to the Jam Room for my recording, because our section won the compose-a-song-event, today is finally the day when we go for recording, and I will be apparently late.  I shook my head, disappointed with myself, like sheesh, seriously? Did I have to remind myself the inevitable?

"Adriel, where is your recording gonna be held?" My dad asked, if that was the tone of his voice, it only meant one thing: answer me or experience hell.  Or probably, that's me, exaggerating matters as it is.

I looked outside the window.  "In the Jam Room." I said.

There was a silent pause. 

"Wait, in the Jam Room?" My dad asked, again.  But this time, his tone was lighter, friendlier.

I nodded my head.  "Yup in the Jam Room." I answered.  Kinda doleful as to why dad was suddenly interested.

"And the guy who owns the Jam Room is Andy? Right?"

I knitted my eyebrows.  "Wait, you know the dude with the long hair?"

"Yeah," my dad said.  "He's like my close friend."

I cocked my head to the right.  Wow, what a shocker. I thought to myself.

"Well?" my dad said, finally swerving to another road. 

Great, I smiled halfheartedly, the traffic has dispersed.

"Well what?" I asked.

"Have you told him that your father's Drake?"

My eyes grew wide.  "What? Heck no."

My mom growled. 

"Sorry mom." I said hurriedly.

My dad laughed, like all the problems in his world have disappeared .  "Well, if he knew that I was your father, he'd help you out on your recording."

I sighed, annoyed.  "Don't put push it, dad."

"Push what? Andy can help you, I mean with those other classes that are gonna get their music's recorded, he'd know whom to help the most because your my daughter."

I bit my lip, looking outside my window.  "Whatever."

Another call came, how many times did my classmates call me, anyway? I picked it up, preparing for more apologies to come from my mouth.  And I hated apologizing, especially when I know it's not my fault to begin with, I mean, it was my parents' fault, right? Since they like came and fetched me late.  Seriously, who was insensitive between both parties now?

I answered the call, regretting that I actually allowed myself to.  "Adriel," came Kenny's voice, Kenny's a girl by the way, "You do realize that the honor's sec got our slot? Because you see, you're not here.  And they're complete, and we all came here first.  So, uhmm, it's totally unfair right?"

I tried hard to not clench my teeth.  "I'm sorry," I said again, my anger reaching it's peek.  "It's the traffic, but I'll be there, don't worry, and I'm really really sorry."

"Yeah." Kenny said.  "That's like what you said 10 minutes ago.  And where are you?"

I sighed, technically I wasn't sure as to where I was either.  "I'm sorry, I'm close by.  I'll be there now."

And then the call ended.

I bit my lip to stop the tears from flowing, alright, probably, this was my fault as to why the honor's section got our slot, but...why did it feel like it is all on me? Like I even wanted this to happen?

I exhaled.  Now, I seriously hate my parents too.