Chapter 12

After supper, I was downstairs working on homework when Mary yelled down, "Mike and Terry are here." I went up to collect them and led them to the basement. Mike was carrying a guitar case, and Terry had an amplifier that looked to be about knee high. Mary came with us. Puff, who seemed to like Mike a lot, followed him downstairs and proceeded to rub against his legs.

We pulled chairs over to the chord organ. Mike handed me "his" guitar, and Ursus began tuning it unplugged while Mike and Terry fussed with the amplifier. "Don't turn it up very loud," I said. "We don't want my parents to ban us immediately."

Once he was finished, Ursus turned the volume control all the way down on the guitar and said, "Let's hear how it sounds plugged in." Mike gave Ursus the cord. After it was connected, he turned the guitar up to a respectable, but not obnoxious, volume and checked the tuning. He made a couple of fine adjustments, and I played the three chords I had started with on Saturday and then the C major chord that I had added to my repertoire that morning. I gave the guitar back to Mike.

Ursus picked up mine and fine-tuned it, but then he purposefully put the high e string out of tune slightly. He plucked both the low E and the high e so that they sounded together. "Do you hear how lousy they sound, that beating noise?" Ursus brought the high e back into tune and sounded both strings again. "Those notes are both Es, but two octaves apart."

Mike tried it on his guitar. "How do you know this stuff?" he asked.

"I've been reading these books," I replied while pointing at them. "Plus, you know, there's this voice in my head."

What! What are you doing?

It's all right. They're used to me saying weird things.

Terry picked the books up and began leafing through them. "You mean like a conscience?"

"Yeah, sorta."

"I bribe mine to shut up," said Mike.

Ah, hiding things in plain sight. Good work.

Ursus fretted the low E on the fifth fret and then plucked the string beside it. "These are both As." He continued his tuning lesson for a time. Mike was starting to look a bit frustrated, so I said, "Let's try a few chords." I demonstrated the open E, Em, and Am.

Mike began working on them. "Your fingers have to come down straighter," I said. "You only want to touch the strings you are fretting."

We worked on the chords until Mike was able to get them to sound cleanly. "Yeah, now you're getting it. The idea is to practice them until you can fret them without having to position each finger separately. I've been advised, though, not to practice too much all at once for the first week or so, or you're liable to hurt your fingers bad enough that you can't practice at all the next day."

"You seem to have picked up a lot really quickly. How much have you been practicing?"

"Five to fifteen minutes at a time, several times per day. That's better than one long session, especially at first."

We did chords some more until I saw Mike wince. "Fingers getting sore?"

"Yeah."

"They toughen up fast. Why don't you let Terry have a shot?"

"He might contaminate it," Mike said, but he handed the electric guitar to Terry, and we went over the three chords until he was able to sound them cleanly, too.

"If you guys practice them a few minutes before going to bed, and then a few minutes in the morning, and then a few minutes after you get home from school, that would be great."

"Maybe Mom and Dad will get us lessons," said Terry to Mike.

"I don't know; Mom was really pissed off when we dumped the clarinet and cornet last year."

"Guitars are cooler."

"No doubt."

"I want to play the piano," said Mary.

Mike counted on his fingers and said, "Piano is fourth coolest."

We talked about guitars and music for a while. I eventually said, "I need to finish up my homework, guys."

They took the hint, and I showed them out. On his way through the door, Mike said, "Thanks for all the help, Artie. I always knew you were smart."

On my way back downstairs I thought, thanks Ursus.

You're welcome. I agree with you about keeping friends, and I don't want to mess up your life. I just wanted to survive.

All things considered, I replied, I like having you in my head just fine. I'm already a better person because you're around.

We worked on homework until bedtime as we tried to make a major dent in my vocabulary words, but we made sure we took a break and practiced the guitar ten or fifteen minutes out of every hour, though.

That night as I lay in bed, just before we began our relaxation ritual, I thought, Ursus, do you miss your friends?

Yes. I suppose my best friend was my familiar spirit, and I miss her a lot. I hope she wasn't hurt when my body was killed.

What's a familiar spirit?

A magician's familiar is an incorporeal spirit that assists him and generally watches his back. Traditionally, they possess the body of an animal. Mine inhabited a large dog. Ursus was showing me relevant memories as he "spoke."

"What was her name?"

It sounded very close to "Emily" in English. You weren't married or anything?

Not at the time.

Tuesday started normally enough. I found several of my vocabulary words as I read the newspaper. My bike tires were still good in the morning, so I decided to ride in.

"Are you sure about that?" asked Mom. "Those bikes apparently don't get watched."

"It's been getting me some needed exercise, it makes me more alert when class starts, it's not exactly a new bike, and Mary's is even older."

"Fine."

The school day started by following its new pattern. Kirsten greeted me warmly. Al avoided me. The event of the morning was Mr. Dean announcing that for science we had finished the unit on plants--exam tomorrow--and would be starting a unit on animals, the grand finale of which would be the dissection of a frog.

Well, that just thrills me all to shit, I thought.

What?

I don't have anything against frogs.

It's for educational purposes.

You've been hanging around with sixth-graders for a few days. How many of them do you think will learn anything from a frog's innards?

You never know. Some people learn best from hands-on experience.

Plus, it's gross.

I can't argue with that.

Kirsten and I walked hand-in-hand over to her house for lunch. I was nervous, but not horribly so. Her mother seemed nice enough. My big fear was that she would decide that she needed to keep Kirsten away from me.

"Do you know why my mom invited you for lunch?"

"I assume because she wants to grill me."

Kirsten smiled, and my heart sped up even more. "Yep, that's pretty much right. I'm an only child, and my parents are protective. Don't worry, though. If she grills you, she still won't eat you."

I made sure I held the door for Kirsten when we went in. Mrs. Kennedy said, "Hello, Arthur, you can hang your coat on the rack and have a seat at the counter."

Kirsten and I climbed up on stools at the bar section of the counter. Mrs. Kennedy put a grilled cheese sandwich and a bowl of tomato soup in front of us. "Would you like a glass of milk, Arthur?"

"Yes, please."

Ursus told me to wait before eating, in case the Kennedy's did a religious ritual over their food, but Kirsten took a bite of her sandwich, so I did, too. Kirsten hooked her left ankle around my right. What would one call that? Holding feet?

"How's the guitar coming?" Mrs. Kennedy asked me.

"It seems to be going well. I've been working on four chords, so far, plus a little picking."

"Are you taking lessons?"

"Not yet. For now, I'm seeing what I can do on my own, and I have a couple of books from the library."

"Learning a musical instrument from books is the hard way to go, but Kirsten tells me you like to read."

"Yes, I read all the time."

"Are you taking part in the book report contest? Kirsten was tied for second place in the first quarter's."