Chapter 10

Mary and I both ate bigger lunches than normal. When I got up from the table, my lower muscles were stiff, and I had to hobble around a bit before I loosened up enough to move freely. I'm going to have to teach this body some stretching exercises, thought Ursus.

"Hey, Mom, can I go over to that shopping center near the other corner of Cord and Wool?" It was nearby, but outside my official boundaries.

"What do want over there?"

"I want to look around that music store."

"For what?"

"I want to look at the guitars."

"I thought you'd given up on that idea."

"I tried, but it kept coming back."

She gave me an unreadable look and said, "Fine, go," in that tone of voice that led one to believe that she disapproved. As Ursus had advised, I ignored it and went to fetch the rest of my fortune. All together, I had three pounds, 55 cents.

As I came back out, Mary asked Mom, "May I go with him? It's OK with you, isn't it, Artie?"

Mom said, "Go," and I said, "Sure," so Mary and I got out our bikes. It wasn't a long walk, but bicycles used some different muscles from the ones we had used treasure hunting all morning.

The city of Packard had no downtown section; it just had businesses up and down the mile-apart roads, especially on and near the intersections. Hank's Music Emporium was near the southeast corner of Cord and Wool, so Mary and I had to cross both streets. We did so at the light.

A bell tinkled as we walked in. There were so many instruments packed in the store that it gave the illusion that the inside was bigger than the outside. I located the guitar section and went to it.

We'll buy an electric guitar later, thought Ursus. If we get an acoustic now, we don't have to buy an amplifier, and it's more portable. There wasn't any dissent from the rest of my minds. A fairly quick glance at the new acoustic guitars showed that anything in my price range was garbage, so we settled in at the used-guitar section.

"May I help you?" The man's nametag said "Hank Dunnington, Owner."

"I'm looking for an acoustic. Is it all right if I take them down and play them?"

"Yes, if you're careful. What price range are you looking in?"

"I don't have a lot. I'm trying to buy decent sound rather than a pretty finish."

I strummed and plucked a few of the guitars that I could afford while Ursus listened to their timbre and sustain.

"I might have something that fits what you're looking for," said Hank. He took down a battered looking old warrior and handed it to me. It was scratched all over, and the finish had been worn away in places. When I played it, though, I could notice the fuller tone compared to the others we had tried. It was ugly and old, but I immediately fell in love. The price tag said, "£3.50."

"I have exactly £3.55, not quite enough to cover the tax."

"Close enough," said the owner. We quickly concluded our transaction. "Here, I'll throw in a couple of picks. Do you need a bag?"

The guitar had been fitted with a strap. "No, I think I'll wear it home." I pocketed the receipt and the plectrums. "Thank you."

"If you're interested, we give lessons right here in the store, in back," he gestured in the direction. "The price isn't bad, a pound-and-a-half per half-hour, and we have teachers that can accommodate pretty much any schedule, or style of music."

"I'll keep that in mind, but for now, I want to see what I can do on my own."

"What about piano?" Mary asked.

"We have a couple of uprights back there for lessons, same price as guitar."

We said goodbye and headed out. Hank seemed like a good guy. I figured I would be a regular customer. I slung the guitar across my back, and we rode home with extreme caution.

We went in through the door to the garage, which we called the "back door" even though it went out the front side of the house. As soon Mom saw me she said, "That money must have been burning a hole in your pocket."

"I had to beat out the flames twice on the way over."

"Smartass."

I fetched the guitar books from my room and headed downstairs. Mary followed. We pulled a couple of chairs over near the chord organ, and Ursus used the organ as a reference as he tuned the guitar.

"We should go fallen change hunting tomorrow, too," said Mary. "There are still quite a few nearby places that we haven't checked."

For maximum effectiveness, Ursus thought, our "voodoo portrait" should be replaced for every use of that spell, but the old one is probably good enough for a few uses of what we're doing with it. "Yes, let's do that," I agreed.

Mary watched me practice chord forms for a while, and then got up and wandered upstairs. Along with chords, I practiced picking and strumming with both fingers and a plectrum. It wasn't too long before the wire strings started cutting into my fingers.

They'll toughen up in one or two weeks, thought Ursus. For now, though, we should probably quit for a while, or we'll get them so sore that we can't practice tomorrow. You know, you are going to have to stop chewing on your fingernails.

I wonder if Kirsten would like to see my new guitar.

There's only one way to find out.

I put my guitar in the non-office, where Rich and Charlie were less likely to notice it. This would make us an outstanding bedroom, thought Ursus.

That it would, but I suspect that Mom and Dad would object.

Perhaps. Let us marshal our arguments and sleep on the problem a few times.

I went upstairs. Mom said, "Giving up already? We won't pay for lessons unless you promise to practice every day."

I held out my hand so she could see how red my fingers were. "I need to build up some calluses."

I almost didn't do it, but Ursus prodded me, so I looked up Kirsten's number and dialed. The only phone in the house was mounted on the kitchen wall, so there was no way that Mom could miss what was going on. I assumed my best phone manners. The person who answered the phone sounded like Mr. Kennedy. "Hello, Mr. Kennedy. This is Arthur Powyr. May I speak to Kirsten, please?" Mom didn't even try to hide that she was listening. Her eyebrows went up and she actually chuckled in the nearly silent way she had.

"Hello, Arthur," Mr. Kennedy said. "How are you today?"

"I'm good. How are you?"

"Fine, fine. I'll see if Kirsten is available."

When he put down the phone, I could hear a saxophone playing. A few moments later, it stopped, and then Kirsten came on. "Hi, Arthur. What did you want?"

"I bought a used guitar today. I was wondering if you wanted to see it?"

"I'd love to. When?"

"I could bring it over right now, if you want."

"That would be great."

"All right, I'll see you in ten minutes or so."

When I hung up, Mom said, "So, is Kirsten your girlfriend now?"

"I don't know."

"Mary said that you took her with you to the library."

"We did. We saw her outside on our way there."

"Kirsten's house isn't exactly on the way to the library, is it?"

"No, not exactly."

"I see."

"Can I go now?"

"Fine." She definitely was amused.

I went back downstairs to get the guitar and pedaled over to Kirsten's with more care than usual. Wiping out was too horrible to contemplate. Kirsten's backyard was adjacent to the schoolyard, so the ride was about a mile.

Kirsten answered the door when I rang. "Would you like to come inside, or would you rather sit on the porch?"

"Let's sit on the porch." It wasn't exactly a nice day, but I found her parents somewhat intimidating.

"Step inside while I put on my coat."

As I stood in the entrance, Mrs. Kennedy saw me. "Hello, Arthur."

"Hi, Mrs. Kennedy."

"Kirsten tells me that you're taking up the guitar."

"Yes, I just bought this used one a little while ago."

"Kirsten plays several instruments. I started teaching her the piano when she was quite young."

"She mentioned that to me."

Kirsten appeared wearing her coat. "We'll be on the front porch, Mom."

We sat on the glider chair, and I showed Kirsten my new-learned semi-ability with the E major, E minor, and A minor open chords. "My fingers are pretty sore right now."

I handed the guitar to her so she could look at it. She strummed and listened with musician's ears. "It's ugly, but it has a nice tone. I don't know much about guitar, though."