Chrysalis

Chapter 11 - Thief

Chapter 11 - Thief

Greg gave me my space on Sunday. He didn't text me, or even like anything I posted. It almost felt like too much space, and I was beginning to hate myself for being so needy.

Monday was the day of the music performances. I had forgotten about it over the weekend and spent English class editing the audio. It was unmastered and choppy, but I was hoping the acoustics in the auditorium would hide that fact.

The first girl to go did a simple but stunning violin piece over a Bach piano audio.

Next was a guy with a ukulele. He played chords in different orders. Didn't sing, didn't even add a key change. Kid was going places.

Then, Greg went up next. I was expecting something hard, maybe another rap verse, or some sort of angsty rock concerto against women and the cool kids. But, like he seems to be doing lately, he surprised me.

"I wanna play this for my mom," he began, nervously. Then, a steady heartbeat played out over the speakers. Greg breathed in synch to the beat, seemingly nervous to start. Then, he plucked the first note.

The speakers squeaked in protest, but even with twisted brows, Greg continued. He plucked the second, and the third, and a melodic motif rang out. The speakers did not protest.

It was a beautiful piece, and it told a story. The way the high notes vibrated was like a cry, which he would antidote with a string of lower notes. His hands moved so quickly, and almost painfully. His chest contorted in a way that paralleled the strings of his electric. Even his arms were painfully flexed as he played.

The song became quite quiet, and he repeated a minor set of triplets in the second highest octave. A recorded laugh played through the speakers, one of a young boy. Greg smiled when he heard it, and played in a more relaxed manor. Then, a woman's voice; his mothers. She spoke, but it sounded harmonious. It sang, "Collin! Collin, go get Gregory! Show him! Show him what you just learned!"

Was Collin his brother? Though terrifying, Greg did seem like the big brother type.

The audio clip of his mother repeated over and over. Greg began to play louder and more intensely, with notes becoming slightly distorted. The audio became faster as well, and the drums in the back were reaching a climax.

When all of the backing track suddenly cut out, Greg floored his pedal and played one of the most beautiful reaches I had ever heard.

The track began again with heavy drums, loud symbols, and he broke out into a 1/16th paced guitar solo. I was hypnotized by his finger work. It was almost as good as mine...

No, it was better.

When the track slowed again, his playing followed. The tempo dropped, his facial expression following. And a piano played out, and the last note on his guitar did... And it was all over.

The class clapped, as if something normal had just occurred. I felt like I was the only one experiencing that performance the way I did, or maybe the only one experiencing the song properly.

I nearly couldn't move when My. Yuki announced my name. Suddenly I didn't feel like performing. I knew I had to, though, and so I hiked up my skirt and put on a brave face.

My guitar flicked against my hip as I walked up to the stage. Set up was quiet and awkward, but Mr. Yuki watched with an encouraging smile.

I walked through my performance by steps. Step one, test position of pedal. Step two, set volume of back track. Step three, set up stations for loop pedal. Step four, loop something. C minor was my go to key because I was wildly unoriginal. It also sounded the saddest.