DROWNED GIRL (Chapters 3 + 4)

Chapter 3

Shoplifting Morals

    Mark taught me a lot that day.  He had convinced himself that he was supposed to be a big brother to me, although I’m not too sure why.  He didn’t talk a whole lot about who he was or where he came from, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t born a street kid.  Even though I was curious about his life before finding me, I never asked.  God knows that I didn’t want to go into detail about the monsters in my past, so why would I ask somebody else to tell me about the monsters in there’s?  He was short tempered and headstrong, even then; but he never was unnecessarily cruel or mean to me at all.  All we had was each other; if we weren’t brothers by blood then certainly we were by bond.

    “You had the right idea, using that restaurant as a meal ticket,” he told me as we made our way back the way I came.  I was still sniffling a little bit from my crying fit, and I’m sure he felt guilty about having tripped me.  As his first act as my big brother he was going to make it up to me.  “But from what you told me, you weren’t patient enough.  Next time, wait until a table closer to your hideout opens up.  If you wait for a closer opportunity, you’ll be able to sneak out the food much more easily.”

    I walked along beside him, taking mental notes.

    “Another thing, you got to learn to blend in.”  He looked me up and down with a disgusted sneer.  “Being a kid by yourself draws enough attention.  Being a dirty kid by yourself, in pajamas, draws even more.”

    I felt slightly insulted that he would dare insult my highly fashionable Scooby-Doo sleepwear.  “Yeah, well, your clothes are pretty dirty too!”  I got super quiet after that.  I didn’t want my one ally to leave me so soon after meeting him.

    “At least my clothes aren’t pajamas!”  He stalked ahead of me, irritated.  I walked a little slower, feeling bad for having insulted him.  I always found it interesting that a person could go from being mad at a person to pitying them in an instant.  It’s too bad humans don’t have the foresight to see the consequences of our words.

    But, Mark and me were just kids.  And, like all kids, we forgave almost as quickly as we condemned.  After about thirty seconds of walking by himself, he slowed down enough for me to catch back up to him.

    “First things first, we gotta get you some clothes.”  We had reached the end of the alleyway, and now we stood on the side of an empty street, a small pizza shop beside us.  I lifted my head to get a better whiff of the Italian goodness that came drifting from one of the windows.  My greedy stomach, obviously not content with the half cookie inside of it, growled loudly.

    Mark ignored the sound.  He pointed across the street.  “There.”  I could barely make out the words on the sign of the building, so I tried to sound them out the way my teachers had taught me in school.

    “Sal-vate-eon army?  Why are we joining the army?”

    Mark rolled his eyes.  “It says, ‘Salvation Army’, dummy.”

    I still didn’t know what salvation was, but I didn’t want to offend Mark with anymore of my ignorance.  “I still don’t know how they’re going to help.  What do we do?  Just ask them for clothes?”

    Mark looked down ways of the street.  “Well, not exactly.”  He took off across the road when he saw that the coast was clear.  “Come on!”

    I scampered behind him, wincing a little bit as my bare feet struck the hot pavement.  I started to make my way into the store before Mark grabbed my arm.  “We’re not going in the front door.”

    “We’re not going in the front door?”  I echoed.  “Then how do we get the clothes?  Is there a back door?”

    “No…but there is a side window!”  Mark grinned as he pulled me to side of the building, to another alleyway.  The pavement wasn’t nearly as hot to the touch in the shade, and the coolness of the pavement was a welcome relief to my poor feet.  Mark walked down the alley a ways and then pointed up.  There was an open window about eight feet off the ground.  “It leads to the boys restroom.”

    I stood beside him and looked up.  The window wasn’t too large, but it was big enough for a kid to squeeze through.  “How do we get up there?”

    Mark grinned arrogantly.  Over time, I’ve come to realize that when he grins like that, Mark has every intention of showing off.  “Back up.”

    I took six or seven steps backwards, closer to the street.  Mark also took a few steps back, giving him enough space to get a running start at the wall.

    “What are you doing?”  I asked.  I could tell by his stance that he was getting ready to sprint, but I wasn’t sure how running top-speed into a brick wall was going to get me a change of clothes.

    Mark looked at me and grinned his Show-Off grin, and then he took several short, sprinting steps towards the wall.  He jumped when he was about three feet away from it and put one foot on the wall and then took a step upwards.  He swung his arms up while halfway through the motion and grabbed the window ledge.  Kicking furiously against the wall while straining to do a pull up, he finally made his way inside the window.

    “Cool!”  I shouted.  I was a city kid, but I was also a sheltered city kid.  I’d never seen anybody climb a wall like that before.

    Mark leaned slightly out the window with his finger to his lips.  “Shh!”  He whispered.  “Do you want us to get caught?”

    I looked down, embarrassed, but inside I was still smiling.  I promised myself that someday I’d be able to do cool things like that wall run.

    “What size do you wear?”  Mark asked.

    I looked up.  How was I supposed to know?  My mom did all my shopping for me.  “I don’t know!” I whispered as loudly as I could.

    He rolled his eyes.  “Figures.”  He ducked back inside the window.

    I stood still, looking up at the window for what seemed like ages.  A part of me knew that Mark wouldn’t abandon me, but the events of the past twenty-four hours had caused my faith in mankind to waver quite a bit.  I tried not to think that Mark had snuck in the window only to walk out the front door and leave me alone in the alleyway, chuckling the whole time about what a dummy I was.  I shook myself out of that type of thinking.  Panicking wasn’t going to help anything.  Mark said he was going to get me clothes, and I had every reason to believe him.  After all, he was a kid, like me.

    It’s not until we grow up that we become monsters.

    Finally, Mark leaned out the window, smiling.  “Jackpot!”  He dropped down a pair of sneakers, a pair of jeans, and a t-shirt.  I ran to pick up the clothes as Mark jumped over me and landed on the ground, rolling gracefully to break his fall.  When he stood up I noticed the black baseball cap in his hand.  He waved it in front of me triumphantly.  “I always wanted a hat.”

    I looked over my new clothes.  The sneakers were gray with black stripes on them, and they were a perfect fit.  The jeans looked a little bit too big for me around the waist, but I figured that once I tucked in my shirt they’d fit all right.  The shirt made me laugh in delight.  On the front was a picture of Scooby and the gang, and on the back was The Mystery Machine.

    Mark smiled.  “Yeah, I though you’d like that.”

    I pulled the jeans on directly over my pajama bottoms.  With the pajama bottoms on underneath, they fit pretty well.  I took off my pajama shirt and replaced it with my new one.  I stepped back a bit and held my hands away from my sides a bit.  I looked at Mark.  “Well?”

    He nodded in approval.  “I guessed your size pretty well.  They fit nice.”

    I smiled.  Having a big brother was ten times better than having a mom or dad.  Suddenly, a thought hit me.  “Mark, how did you pay for these?”

    The grin on his face faltered.  “I didn’t.”

    I saw Mrs. Kailee standing in front of me, telling me about how bad stealing was.  “Mark, that’s stealing!” 

    He got irritated.  “Yeah, well how else do you think we’re going to get anything?”  He asked.  “Besides, you were okay with stealing that food!”

    “But I didn’t steal the food!  Remember?  I told you, all that I got was that cookie, and I got that from Mrs. Kailee.”

    “You were going to steal the food off the plates!  You were just stupid and got caught!”

    He had me there.  “I still didn’t get away with it!”

    “That’s not my fault.”

    I had broken the law when I ran away from home, and again when I tried to steal the food.  I don’t know why stealing clothes offended me so much, but for some reason it did.  Maybe it’s because food was an anatomical need and could be justified by saying I needed it in order to survive, but I had clothes.  Sure, they were pajamas, but they were still clothes.  Something about taking something I didn’t absolutely need made me feel bad.  I looked at the ground and felt tears coming to my eyes.

    “Ah, Jesus, don’t tell me you’re going to start crying again!”  Mark threw up his arms in exasperation.  “If you’re always going to be a crybaby, I don’t think I want to be your big brother.”

    I wiped away the tears.  As bad as stealing was, being lonely was even worse.  “I’m sorry…”

    He looked at me, hands on his hips.  “Ah, forget about it.”  He said.  He stood next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders.  “Neil, do you even know what the Salvation Army does?”

    I shook my head, still feeling sorry for making Mark upset and for being such a crybaby.

    “They give poor people clothes.  We’re poor people, right?”

    I nodded my head.

    “So they’re here to help us out, right?”

    I nodded again, sniffling.  “Uh-huh.”

    “Then when we take the clothes, we’re not actually stealing them,” he rationalized.  “If the clothes are meant for poor people, we’re just getting what’s ours anyways.”

    That made sense.  I looked up at him and smiled.  “Okay.”

    He smiled back at me.  “Good.  I’m glad that’s settled.”  He looked down at the pajama shirt still in my hand.  “Don’t you like you’re new shirt?”

    I looked down at the shirt in my hand as well.  It was part of my past.  My past was full of monsters.  I didn’t want anything that reminded me of it.  I threw the shirt on the ground a couple feet away, and I promised myself that I’d throw away the pajama bottoms too as soon as the opportunity presented itself.  “I like my new shirt better.  Thanks, Mark.”

    He smiled and punched me lightly on the shoulder.  “No problem, kid.”  My stomach growled again, and I grew worried that the light moment would be overshadowed by an annoyed remark from Mark.  But instead, his stomach growled too.  We both laughed.

    “It’s a duet!”  Mark proclaimed.  He smiled and went to put the baseball cap on his head, but then he look at my hair.  His hair was relatively short and not nearly as dirty as mine.  Instead of putting the cap on his head, he put it on mine.  “You need this more than I do.”

    I grew self conscious and quiet.  “I’ll get it back to you as soon as I can…” I told him.

    He looked at a dirty, greasy lock of hair that had poked its way out from beneath the hat.  “Don’t bother.  I’ll get a clean one soon enough.”  He looked across the street to the pizza place we had stood beside just moments before.  “Are you hungry?”

    I beamed.  “Definitely!”

    “Then let’s go.”



Chapter 4

Ace

    Mark was far from a choirboy, but then again, so was I.  I eventually got over my aversion to stealing clothes and other items, and making illegal entrances without getting caught soon became a specialty of mine.  I was young and my body was lithe and flexible.  There were some things that I couldn’t do right away though; Mark was older than me and had had more experience in blazing new trails through the concrete jungle, and his physique showed that.  He wasn’t thin, but he wasn’t fat either, and on top of that he was deceptively fast and strong.  I couldn’t keep up with him when we had to make quick getaways after getting whatever we needed from a store (and believe me, we had some close calls) but what I lacked in speed and strength I more than made up for in creativity and stealth.  I took what I learned from Mark as far as scaling walls and railings and improved upon it exponentially.  His smarts and my creativity made living on the streets somewhat more tolerable.

    Aside from breaking and entering and proper shoplifting methods, I learned a lot of things from Mark.  I learned that playground tunnels and the empty space underneath playground slides make for excellent shelter when it is storming outside, I learned that most grocery stores will throw food away even if it is not spoiled, and I learned to avoid others.  Mark and I stalked the shadows during the daytime, preferring to hide in alleyways or behind abandoned buildings rather than to walk the streets.  Most people keep to themselves and have built in red light triggers when it comes to others.  They’ll see two obviously homeless children walking alone and immediately that red light starts flashing.  It’s a sad fact of human nature that all too often when we see people in need we choose to ignore them for fear of the uncomfortable situation it will put us in.  People do their best to avoid responsibility and, as a rule, try not to add to whatever responsibility they have already.  While it seems cruel, for missing children trying not to be found it’s a blessing.  But, there always is the risk of running into that one person who will try to do something good about it.

    Mark and me were scared to death of those people.  In fact, the only things scarier than those people are the people like us, the other social pariahs trying not to be found.  We all have our own reasons for remaining anonymous, and not all of them are noble.

    It wasn’t until we got older that Mark and I actually started hiding inside of abandoned warehouses rather than behind them.  We were always able to smell pot and other bad things whenever I got beneath a window to one of those places, and we had to constantly look our feet when near the outside walls for fear of accidentally stepping on syringes.  I asked Mark only once why he refused to go inside of one on the off chance that it might be empty of crack heads or prostitutes.  He got really quiet and for a minute I thought that he was going to yell at me and call me a dummy like he usually did whenever he was irritate, but instead he looked at me with an expression on his face that I had never seen before and haven’t seen since.

    “Neil, whatever you do, never ask me that question again,” he said.  “I don’t care if I’m your big brother or best friend; if you ever talk about why we can’t go into one of those buildings I’ll abandon you.”

    Mark rarely spoke like that.  His flat monotone voice and grave stare made me almost wish that instead he had yelled at me and called me names.  At first I was going to risk asking him “Why?” but then an image of Big Blake rushed through my mind.  A big, scary adult; one who liked to get off on thoughts of overpowering little boys and doing bad things to them.  Really bad things to them.  I dropped the subject, and it wasn’t until Mark got to be man sized that we began to risk going into the abandoned buildings.  We only went into one, and we lucked out.  It was the apartment that we currently live in; this place has been the only semi-permanent home to me for more than three and a half years.

    After being so unstable for so long, it’s been hard for me adjust to a permanent residence.  I guess I must have a wandering soul, because I never seem to be able to sit still for very long.  No matter how comfortable I may get, I always feel the need to be doing something.  During the first year of living in this apartment I think I nearly drove Mark crazy.  I couldn’t sit still for more than an hour or so at a time.  When you’re homeless you learn to never let your guard down, you’re constantly alert and looking for anything that might get you discovered.  This apartment is different.  We go to and from using a window that’s hidden behind a dumpster, and all the other windows have been boarded up so nobody can look in and find us.  Mark took to the sedentary lifestyle much easier than I did and was content to waste his days sleeping.  I, on the other hand, needed a hobby to keep my wandering mind and soul at ease.  That’s how I discovered music.

    With the running water provided by the apartment, Mark and me were able to keep clean.  Our showers are usually short and quick because we have no heat, but you don’t need hot water in order to use a bar of soap.  As a result, we found that it was much easier trying to pass for normal teenagers. (I’d like to see you try to pass off as just an everyday teenager with a small swarm of flies surrounding your armpits and head; I can guarantee it’s harder than you’d think.)  Without the fear of being discovered to be orphans, we were much less apprehensive about walking the streets in broad daylight.

    There are plenty of things for teenagers to do in a city.  Like all teenagers, one of my favorite activities was to window shop and long for things I knew I couldn’t possibly afford.  I know, it’s probably hard for you to look at a shirt or a DVD or videogame and think about how much it blows not being able to afford these things, but for us street kids it’s a little different.  At least you know that your mom or dad might be able to pay for it later on and you might get it for Christmas or your birthday, but as a street kid I have nobody to do that for me.  Mark and me rarely have money, and it’s risky business just stealing things necessary for survival, much less trivial materialistic items.  But still, it’s only in human nature to want that what we cannot have.

    After showering for the day, I left Mark to go for a walk.  We had only been living at the apartment for a short time and I was still nervous about walking in the streets while posing as a normal kid.  At every turn I took, I just knew that there would be a cop waiting to ask me where my parents were.  The people passed by me without even a second glance though; for the first time in years I was a normal person and it was the weirdest feeling I’ve ever felt.  Others rarely spotted Mark and me as we preferred shadowed alleyways and rooftops to busy sidewalks and populated side streets.  As a result, being in the direct line of site of the entire world scared the hell out of me.

    I tried to act as inconspicuous as possible by imitating the easy lope of people going to and from their everyday lives, but my feet felt too heavy and my hair felt unkempt and my throat closed and I choked every time a kind passerby nodded a ‘Hello’ in my general direction.  The sun felt too hot; had it always been this hot?  And since when did traffic become so loud?  Everything was just too damn loud.  I was having a panic attack.  I should’ve known that going out without Mark would make me like this.  Please God, if you really are out there, save me from this openness that threatens to crush me!

    I couldn’t take it anymore.  I found an alleyway and ran down it as fast as I could, not even knowing where it’d lead me.  It eventually dead-ended at a ten-foot brick wall.  I ran part way up the wall in three easy steps and vaulted over the top.  I landed in a crouch, and as I stood I heard the sound several acoustic guitars playing in unison.  It was a peaceful melody, and the peacefulness of the song soon quieted my raging heartbeat.  Where that coming from?  I had to find out.

    Mark always tells me that if curiosity really does kill the cat, then I’m in for a short life. 

    I ignored his voice in my head as it whispered that warning and I moved toward the sound of the guitars.

    There were five of them.  Five men sat in green plastic chairs in a circle just outside the backdoor of a coffee shop strumming on acoustic guitars.  Two or three of the old guys were smoking cigarettes, and one of the other two sat with a coffee mug at his feet.  The last guy must’ve been the leader, he looked to be the oldest and the others were taking their cues from him.  He wore faded blue work jeans with a white under shirt tucked into them.  He was predominantly bald with tufts of coarse gray hair sticking out of the side of his head.  His bright white teeth stood out in shark contrast to the burnt leather look of his skin.

    He strummed hard twice, using his thumbnail as a guitar pick.  That must’ve been the cue for the rest of them, because they all stopped.  They all smiled at one another, but didn’t say a word.  Despite the fact that they all had different skin tones and body statures, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that these men were brothers.  Maybe not by blood, but they looked like family. 

    I thought of Mark just then.

    “Solid!” exclaimed the wire-haired bald man.  The rest grinned and nodded in agreement.  “Really somethin’!  Boys, let me tell you, we be playin’ too damn good to be reduced to back yard jam sessions!  What we need is some gigs, ya dig?  It’s too bad that we ole’ men can’t get no place to play.  If we all been born but maybe twenty years later, we could have been somethin’!”  The other four just smiled and leaned back, taking drags on their cigarettes or sipping their coffee.

    “Really could a been somethin’…” The old man repeated once more, reliving the glory days that had never happened.  He smiled and looked around.  He saw me standing behind the low chain link fence that surrounded the back of the coffee shop.  “Hey, you there!”  He shouted.  “You think we any good?”

    I didn’t know how to respond.  Was he going to call the cops?  I looked into his dark brown eyes.  There was no sign of malicious intent.  It was like looking into the eyes of a happy child.  He and his guitar friends weren’t like other adults.  They had never really grown up.  Growing up is what happens when the world gets the best of you and you accept that you can’t win.  This man looked happy, but he also looked as though he had never let anything get the best of him.

    “You sounded great,” I smiled.  “That really was awesome.”

    The other old guys looked my way, clearly interested in what this little kid had to say about their musical prowess.  Wry smiles deepened the wrinkles and laugh lines on their ancient faces. 

    “You hear that boys?”  The old man smiled.  “Not only we be solid, but we be sounded awesome too!”  He guffawed and slapped his knee.  “I can see you’re a man who clearly knows his music.  Come over here and sit a spell, then you be able to hear somethin’ really awesome!”

    For all my paranoia, I found myself all too willing to trust this old guy.  He just had a vibe to him, you know what I mean?  It’s like you could take one look at him and think “He’s a pretty cool dude.”  I hopped the fence and walked over to the men.

    The old man never once stopped smiling.  “Call me Ace.”  He stuck out his right hand and I jumped back in alarm.  There wasn’t anything wrong with his hand, it was just a reflex action. 

      Ace’s smile faltered just a bit.  “Boy, ain’t nobody ‘round here gonna snatch you up, I promise.”

    I looked into his eyes and those of the other men.  Their curiosity was at an all time high now, but thankfully curiosity was all that I saw in their faces.  There was no sign of malicious intent, and I put my guard down almost entirely. 

    Almost.

    “Call me Neil.” 

    I shook his hand and was amazed by the calluses on his fingertips.  It felt as though tiny nubs of sand paper were rubbing against the back of my hand.

    “Pleasure to meet you Neil.”  The rest of the group echoed his sentiment.

    He let go of my hand and I waved a shy hello to the rest of them.  I’d let my guard down farther than I had in a long time, except for when I was with Mark.  But even then I had to be on the look out for anyone that might discover our hiding place.  Being this open around complete strangers, complete adult strangers, was something I didn’t see myself getting used to.

    “Know anything ‘bout music, ma man Neil?”  Ace asked.

    “I know what I like.”

    Ace slapped his knee.  “And that’s all you need to know!”

    Everybody else laughed.  “Ace, you found yo’ self one smart boy.”

    “That’s what I’m a thinkin’.”  Ace smiled warmly, and I found myself returning the smile.  This man positively radiated kindness.  It was impossible not to get caught up in his gravity.

    I cleared my throat.  “So…how long have you been playing?”  I wasn’t used to making small talk.

    “Been ‘bout near my whole life, I reckon.  Well, maybe not quite that long.  Ever since I can remember, at any rate.”  Ace pointed to the man with the coffee mug.  “Charlie though, he been playin’ about that long too, if not a bit longer.”

    Charlie shrugged.  “I can barely remember last night; what’s makes you think I can remember the past seventy years?”

    All of them laughed, and I found myself joining in their laughter.  I could really get used to these guys, adults or not.

    “You play any music, Neil?”  Ace asked.

    “No.”

    “Do you want to?”



    I took several lessons from Ace, Charlie, and the rest of the group, who called themselves The Circle.  For the first couple of lessons I’d use Ace’s guitar, but it didn’t feel right playing another man’s instrument.  It was like holding the man’s soul in my hands.  The back was worn down from years of use and I could see faint stains in the wood from where Ace had played until his fingers bled.  A man’s blood and soul belong to him and to him alone; it didn’t feel right holding something like that in my hands.  Plus, I hated the way Ace looked without it.  It was obvious that the guitar was his most cherished.  Taking away his guitar was like taking away his arm.  It was a piece of him.  Yes, he could live without it, but it just didn’t seem right.  He looked like he was truly in his element when he held that thing.

    I stole a guitar from a pawnshop the first chance I got.  Normally Mark and me are discreet when stealing, but the guitar was a total grab and dash.  I walked into the shop, turned to my left, saw the acoustic guitars hanging from the wall, and I grabbed the closest one.  It was an old black Yamaha, and it was obvious that it’d seen better days.  The paint was cracked and peeling, and a piece of the headstock was gone.

    “Hey kid, you got the money to pay for that?”

    I didn’t even look at the man behind the counter.  I gripped the guitar tightly around the neck and then I ran out of the shop as fast as I could.  I heard the Counter Man yell a curse, but by the time he had come around from behind the cash register I was gone.  Mark would have been pissed that I’d been so sloppy in stealing technique, but how do you sneak an acoustic guitar out of a store by stuffing it down your shirt?

    The Circle was happy with my ‘purchase’, though they never did ask how I got the guitar.  None of them really spoke about their pasts, and I wasn’t exactly bubbling with the news of mine.  We kept to ourselves, bonded by our love for music.

    Mark was pretty pissed when he saw the guitar.  “And just where the hell did you get that thing, Neil?  Can you even play it?  You better hope that damn thing doesn’t get us discovered!”  I explained myself the best I could, but I didn’t tell Mark about The Circle.  They were all runaways too, maybe not in the sense that we were, but they too just wanted to be left to live their lives the way they wanted to live them.  I had found them by accident; I promised myself that would be the only way that Mark would too.  I told him that I’d taught myself to play in the park when he was at home sleeping.

    He was infuriated.  “What if a cop had seen you?  We’d be screwed!”

    I didn’t want to back out of my lie and have to reveal Ace and The Circle.  “Nobody stopped me, Mark.  In fact, some of them even gave me money just to hear me play!” 

    There’s a funny thing about lies; they have a tendency to dig deeper and deeper holes.

    Mark’s eyes widened.  “How much money?”

    Oh crap!  “Uh…about five dollars…I spent it on a cheeseburger!”  I had to give a plausible explanation for why I didn’t have the money.

    Mark’s eyes narrowed.  “You only got five dollars?”  Mark seemed unimpressed.  “Where’d you play?”

    “Inside the pavilion by the pond.”

    Mark frowned.  “Well, there’s your problem right there, you dummy!  All the people hang out by the statue on the other side of the park!  That’s where the playground is.”  Mark and me had spent many nights sleeping inside the tunnel slides at the playground.

    The playground evoked a strange memory.  In the memory I was in a different playground, this one was next to a creek.  Across the creek was a little girl.  She was dead. 

    I shook my head to clear the image.  Where the hell had that come from?

    “Yeah, that’s where all the people go.”  Mark didn’t notice my change in expression.  He was looking past me with a glazed expression.  “I bet you could make at least fifty dollars there!  That is, if you’re any good.”

    “Of course I’m good!”  I forgot about the dead girl memory.  “I’m great!”

    “Yeah?  Says who?”

    I nearly said Ace, but I caught myself.  “Says the people who gave me money today.”

    “Proof it,” Mark smiled populously.  No matter how good of a mood Mark is in, he never passes up the opportunity to prove someone wrong.

    I swallowed a lump in my throat.  Even though I’d played with The Circle dozens of times, I’d never done anything solo.  I took a deep breath, made a G chord, and then went from there.

    The Circle never taught me how to read music or tablature; they’d just taught me some chords and notes and told me to feel the music.  They didn’t think music was meant to be set in stone or on paper.  To them, music was alive and ever changing and growing.  It had a life of it’s own, and no living thing was meant to be caged.  Just let the music flow, they said.  Feel it, let it flow, and then release it. 

    I could tell by the look on Mark’s face that I had just released something awesome.

    I finished with my song and asked Mark what he thought of it.

    “I think you should have earned a whole hell of a lot more than five dollars!”  He exclaimed.  “Neil, that was amazing!  Tomorrow we’re going to go to the park and you’re going to get us some money!”

    I blushed.  Mark had never given me a compliment like that before.  “I can’t wait.”

    “Me neither.”  Mark was looking at my hands holding the guitar; you’d think he had just discovered gold.  Maybe he had.  I was too excited dreaming about tomorrow to realize that Mark thought he’d found a cash cow in me.  It was going to be great!

    It wasn’t until that night that I dreamed about the drowned girl.