Mayhem's Beginning (Everybody Changes)

Chapter 3: Kate Gerrette

The clicking of hinges on instrument cases were the first sounds to register in my brain after class. The decades of rambling teachers were finally over and I was back in the band room. It was empty, just how it usually was during lunch time. I jammed the end of a long wire into an amplifier, forcing the other prong into the input of a guitar. I sat on top of the big black box, playing the note I was trying to reach on the steel strings.

I blew into my sax that was slung over the right side of my body. It sounded flat, me playing the note on the guitar again to register what I was aiming for. I turned the loop on the amplifier, listening to the note echo through the room over and over. With little trouble I got to the top of the mountain of music, now needing to work on my control of breath so I didn't screw up the solo for the fourty thousandth time. I ran through the solo a few times, perfection coming quickly. Practice really does make perfect, and even with a little of it, can make a big difference.

I wasn't much of a guitar player, but I have picked up many techniques over the years of jamming with other musicians. I placed my fingers on the fretboard and strummed a perfect fifth. The perfect fifth, such an odd chord. Technically, it wasn't even a chord, although it is used in almost every genre of music. Rock, metal, country, blues, etc. Knowing the perfect fifth you could play rhythm for countless songs and over time people have given them dozens of nicknames including power chords, cheater's chords, and so on.

I began with the first chord progression that came to my head, looping the perfect fifths through the amp. The sound was so clean, so invigorating, that I began running through the Minor Pentatonic Scale. This scale was home base for almost every solo. Even with minimal guitar skills, one could play a simple lead part on the guitar using this scale alone.

I took my hands off the guitar, the looping of my progression still playing in the background. My palms wrapped around the brass of my saxophone, my lips blew on the reed, my fingers pressed the keys as a fluster of butterflies came out of the barrel. The music was intoxicating, my face had no choice but to make awkward but soulful expressions.

I soon became high, under the influence and the saxophone being my supplier. After several measures of tasty licks I switched my hands over to the guitar again, this time letting the music flow through me. I disregarded the Pentatonic Scale, not thinking about what I was playing, letting the music drift out my fingers. I tapped harmonics, swept, hammered on, pulled off, all just in the matter of fun.

I finished my jam session with a slap of the sound hole. The loop stopped as I looked around the empty band room. Sweat dripped down my neck, my breath thick, my heart beating at light speed. That was amazing, and yet, no audience. I let out an enormous sigh as I placed the guitar and sax back in their cases.

I exited the band room staring down at my shoes as I awkwardly walked down the corridor. The crack of a door on the right side of me interrupted my thoughts, a smooth voice cooed “Hey Andrew, mind helping me with a few things?” The voice was recognizable, the choir director Mrs. Phillip. Freshmen year I took her guitar class and since then I remained a helpful aid to her when I was around.

“Yeah sure.” I responded walking through the choir room and going with Mrs. Phillip into her office. On her desk lay dozens of papers sprawled out over the oak. I knew what she wanted me to do, because I was the only one who knew how she liked her papers organized. She was a very busy woman and she helped me out a lot so I didn't mind.

“Okay, I'm sorry about this but I was just wondering if you could organize these for me. It won't take long and if you are late to class I can write you a pass. I need to run across town really quick to go do something for my husband.”

“No worries I got you covered!” I said with a genuine smile. She grinned back, thanking me before walking out the door. I was now alone as I took a seat at her desk rearranging the papers into a precise order. After a few minutes of silence a female face poked her head in through the door.