Chapter 17

November 3rd, 2003

"We should start a band."

Jaune looked up at me from his seat, briefly pausing in thought.

"We should?"

"Yeah, we'd be great, don't you think?"

I gently tapped the last peg into the guitar's saddle bridge and reached for the tuning nut. Jaune and I had been tasked to re-string the music class's collection of nylon guitars since Mr. Fernbank was set to start a classical guitar curriculum with the seniors. We had gotten most of the way through by the time fourth period spare rolled around, and even Emmy had come to join us, despite not being in the music program anymore. She wasn't participating in the re-stinging, though. She had laid herself out on five of the padded music chairs and was napping quite soundly in a sunbeam that was cutting in through the window.

"Well, we aren't exactly set up for being in a band, I don't think."

"What are you talking about, this is literally the music room, Jaune."

"No, I mean- ugh." he paused a minute to finish tuning the guitar in his hands. "I'm not sure either of us can really play 'band' instruments all that well."

I scoffed at him, twisting the tuning nut to wind in the nylon.

"The heck do you mean, you can play guitar, can't you? Isn't it a transferable skill from bass?"

"I mean, a little, just some stuff my dad's shown me. I'm really more of a bass player and a violinist 'cause that's what I studied."

I gave my head a harsh shake to flick my bangs out of my eyes.

"Yeah, but you can play, right?"

"Only what my dad showed me, I just said that."

"Well, then it's time for you to show me what he showed you!"

I pointed diligently at him with the headstock of my guitar. He sighed and shrugged, reaching up to the tuning nuts on his guitar and dropping the strings all down a half-step.

"Alright, if you insist."

"I insist, Jaune."

He just kinda gave me 'the eyebrows' and settled in his chair, pulling his guitar up into a more comfortable position. He fidgeted a moment, lining up his fingers on the fretboard and over the sound hole.

"Sorry in advance if this sounds like shit, I haven't warmed up or anything."

"No excuses."

"As many excuses as I want!"

I rolled my eyes at him again and put my guitar back in its case. After a moment of counting himself in, he started to strum out the very familiar intro to Extreme's 'More Than Words', using the actual correct Cadd9 and Am7 chords instead of their simplified versions. I furrowed my brow at him, impressed and a little confused by this hidden talent. He cleared his throat a few times and played himself in.

"~Sayin' I love you, is not the words I want to hear from you~"

I leaned back in my chair to listen.

"~It's not that I want you, not to say but, if you only knew~"

He paused dramatically to drop down to a B minor 7th.

"~Ho-ow ea-sy, It would be to show me how you Fe-eel~"

I watched his fingers as he walked between chords. I couldn't believe he'd lie and say he wasn't very good, because that wasn't what I was witnessing.

"~More than wo-ords, is all you have to do to make it re-eal, Then you wouldn't have to sa-a-ay, that you love me-ee~"

He paused again for the jump up to A minor 7th.

"~'Cause I'd al-reaaa-dy kno-ow!~"

He finished out with another run through the opening chords, and ended on a solid and hanging G major. Without even flinching, he re-tuned the guitar back up to standard tuning and put it down in the case, zipping it away. I was flabbergasted. Completely taken aback. He had been hiding this from me, and I was entirely unaware. Jaune could sing?! And play guitar like Nuno Bettencourt himself?! This was unacceptable. Even Em at this point had woken up and was now sitting upright, giving him the same look as I. Lucky for me, she went ahead and distracted him.

"That song's about sex, right?"

Jaune froze, halfway through picking up another guitar to re-string.

"Uh, I dunno. I don't think so."

"Well, the line is 'how easy it would be to show me how you feel', isn't that like saying the artist wants the girl to bone him? To show him how she feels, instead of saying 'I love you' over and over?"

"Emerald, grow up." I interjected. "That's not what it means, it's about the subtle nuances of a relationship, how just a look or a touch can be used to express more than just the words."

"Yeah, you said touch, I'm pretty sure that means…" she made a loose fist and shook it back and forth. "You know?"

Jaune, ever the grownup, snickered, and cleared his throat to speak.

"I'm on Weiss' side on this one. It's about how little interactions can be more meaningful than just three little words that honestly get said too much."

I nodded along with him. "I'm surprised you were able to extrapolate that, Jaune."

"Why's that."

"I 'unno, usually you're pretty dense when it comes to love n' stuff."

He shrugged. "I'm pretty sure I'd be able to see love if it happened to me like in the song, it doesn't sound too hard."

My eye twitched. Quite violently. Luckily, since I was wearing my bangs over my face to hide the scar, Jaune didn't see my reaction, only the pleasant smile I used as cover. Because excuse me, bitch?! At this point, I'd have been surprised if Jaune saw a wrecking ball being swung at his head with the words 'I Love You' spray-painted on the front of it. I heard Em scoff under her breath, something that he didn't hear.

"Right. Of course." I tried to unclench my jaw. "What else have you got in your repertoire?"

"Uh, nothing I'd want to play on these nylons. If I had something nicer to play, I might be inclined to open up a few more tunes. Nothing especially exciting, though."

At this moment, Mr. Fernbank got up from his desk on the other end of the room and marched over, skirting through us and pushing into the back storage room. We watched him search around in the dark for a moment, the sounds of music cases thudding into each other coming from inside the little side closet. He emerged after another few moments, carrying two large cases in his hands. He set the larger of the two down next to Jaune, and set the thin case down across two nearby chairs, handle out. He pulled the cover off, revealing a gorgeous brass-inlaid Fender Sixty-Five Twin Reverb amplifier, complete with the shiny chrome Fender badge stitched into the expensive tolex face.

He turned and hit the latches on the longer, skinny case, and opened the lid. Out came a rather pretty-looking Fender Mustang, in beautiful Torino Red with chromed strike plates and bridge. The pickups had been replaced with a pair of Yosemite open-coil humbuckers, done up in shiny chrome as well. He turned to Jaune and handed him the guitar, taking the half-finished nylon Yamaha out of his hands.

"What's… this?"

Mr. Fernbank didn't say anything, continuing to plug the foot pedal into the front of the amp and setting it down at Jaune's feet. He whipped out a patch cord and plugged it into the jack on the amp, handing the other end to Jaune for him to take, which he did. Jaune plugged the patch into the jack on the guitar and settled it on his legs, twiddling with the tone and volume knobs as Mr. Fernbank switched on the big amp. It hummed loudly as the cathode tubes started to warm up, slowly getting quieter as the red indicator light slowly illuminated to show that it was ready to use.

"If you're going to complain about your instrument, I figured you needed something with a little more power and presence than a classical guitar." he pointed at the guitar he had placed in Jaune's hands. "Go on, make some music."

Jaune shrugged. "Alright."

He hit the selector all the way down and cranked the tone dial all the way up, stepping on the foot pedal with his heel. He grabbed a pick from inside the case and rolled out a kink in his neck.

"Don't expect anything noteworthy."

See, I don't know if Jaune was being deliberately facetious, but I really think he needed to come clean with us. He had spent all of his childhood hiding stuff from me, like his involvement in martial arts, his secret love for Japanese cuisine, the fact that he knew more about Impressionist painting than most museum tour guides, all usually for his own entertainment than to show off. Jaune had this wealth of knowledge stored up in his head that we never really got to see outside of little inklings like this, or on field trips to places he had no business having an interest in. Yet, somehow, we were all surprised when he would break into lecture about cool old train facts or suddenly remember how to make sashimi from scratch.

I remember a time, back when we were kids, youngin's, really, that our friend group was out on the town one night, in the great big city of Ottawa, and we walked passed this old historical memorial that was under construction. I made a passing remark that the statue didn't have it's informational plaque beneath it, as it had been removed for refurbishing, and that maybe the history on the plaque was being changed, and that Jacques Cartier, the man the statue was of, was actually being renamed posthumously. Jaune then went on this forty minute lecture about the history of the French expedition to Canada in fifteen-thirty-four, headed by the man who would lay the original map for the entire Gulf of Saint Lawrence. And this one lecture was so well laid and spoken, even Emerald started to show interest and asked real, topical questions about the history of our great nation to the north.

And musically, it's not like we didn't know he was pretty good. He was right, he was a violinist at heart. There were times I'd show up at his house on weekends and he would be in the middle of practicing in the other room, sounding like he belonged at Julliard two years ago. I had even gone to one of his shows, where he had done a duet of Tchaikovski with his teacher, which I'm gonna go on record saying was one of the purest sounding violin duets I have ever heard in my life, he even sounded richer and better-practiced than his teacher! So I knew he had some musical talent stored in his bones somewhere. That didn't mean I wasn't, on occasion, completely humbled and baffled by the things he did or the things he played. And sometimes, his latent talent actually made me mad. How did he do it? How could he just burst out with genius as easily as walking down the street? It made me want to punch the poor kid.

Because goddamnit, when he said 'don't expect anything noteworthy' and then immediately drop into a note-for-note perfect rendition to the opening of 'Johnny B Goode', I wanted to reach across the chairs and smack him in the face. I mean he sounded so much like Chuck Berry as he so effortlessly picked out each note, almost like I was sitting across the room from Chuck himself.

I just sighed and leaned back in the chair and tried not to kick him for showing off.

"Hey, that's not so bad!" Mr. Fernbank quipped, pulling up a chair.

"Thanks, my dad wanted me to learn that."

I scoffed. "Your dad likes Chuck Berry?"

"Yeah, he was quite popular in France when dad was a kid."

"Didn't that song come out when he was, like, ten?"

"He got an early start on rock and roll."

Mr. Fernbank stood up for a moment. "D'you know Stuck in the middle?"

Jaune shrugged. "Just the blues version."

"Excellent. Weiss, saddle up on that piano, we're gonna do something here."

I blinked, briefly taken aback. "Uh, sure."

I stood up and crossed the room to the big electric grand in the corner, and sat down behind it, barely getting comfortable. I lifted the lid and powered it on, watching Mr. Fernbank fiddle with the tone dial on Jaune's amp for a moment. He swung himself around behind the drumkit and sat down, rolling up his sleeves and grabbing a pair of sticks.

"Kay, it's twelve-bar blues in D, think you can improvise and play along?"

I lay my hands over the keys for a second and tried to picture the notes in my head.

"Yeah, I got it."

"Perfect. Jaune, Play us in."

He nodded, and started at his strings for a second, before rolling right on in to the bluesiest riff I had ever heard, in D major.

"~Well, I don' know why I came here tonight~"

Jaune's playing had me stricken. The way he would close his eyes and just kinda feel the music in his core was unlike any other person at the school I had ever seen play. No one else possessed the same kind of drive that he did.

"~I got this feelin' that somethin' ain't right~"

His transitions were as flawless as they could be. I waited for my cue in.

"~I'm so scared, 'case I fall off my chair, And I'm wonderin' how I'll get down the stairs~"

Yeah, 'anything noteworthy' my ass.

"~Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you~"

Mr. Fernbank played us in, rolling through a nice and simple drum line, following Jaune's strumming with an easy four-beat rhythm. I did my best to follow along, twinkling out as bluesy a harmony as I could, getting into the key with my fingers and jamming along. I wasn't following any sheet music or following any kind of instruction, since there was originally no piano part in the Stealers Wheel version I was just making it up as I went along. You know, that thing I was good at.

"~yes I'm, stuck in the middle with you, and I'm wonderin' what it is I should do~"

There wasn't a lot of rasp in his voice for the full pack-a-day blues singer effect, but that was to be expected, he was only fifteen. It would be quite a few years until his singing voice came in. I could wait.

"~It's so hard to keep this smile from my face, Losin' control, yeah I'm all over the place~"

I rolled my fingers up to the high register for a moment, twinkling out something in the key of D.

"~Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right, here I am, Stuck in the middle with you~"

Without a bass player and someone on slide guitar, it was a little thin sounding, to be honest, but the fullness of the borrowed Mustang sang out over any dead spaces in the music, leaving anyone who didn't know the song to think this was how it was supposed to be. I made sure to keep my left hand on bass chord duty as best I could, while maintaining a sufficient rhythm.

"~Well you started out with nothin', and you're proud that you're a self-made man~"

Even without a slide on his finger, he dragged up along the neck and made a reasonable approximation of a bottle-slide.

"~And your friends, they all come crawlin', slap you on the back and say, ple-ee-ee-ee-eease~"

He paused to let the chord hold a moment.

"~Ple-ee-ee-ee-eease yeah~"

Mr. Fernbank hit the crash, startling us both, but not enough to throw Jaune off tempo.

"~Well, I don' know why I came here tonight~"

I almost caught myself staring at him and forgetting how to play. I was just still so impressed.

"~I got this feelin' that somethin' ain't right. I'm so scared, in case I fall off my cha-air, and I'm wonderin' how I'll get down the stairs~"

His inflection of each word as he sang was almost note-for-note perfect to the way Canadian Blues Guitarist and famous Roadhouse actor Jeff Healey used to do this song on the 8-Track I always had in the player of Winter's car. It was like Jaune had the ability to channel the musician directly through his arms and into his fingers.

"~Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, Stuck in the Middle With you~"

Mr. Fernbank let his drumming fade out at this point, leaving only myself and Jaune to finish out the song, which I think we did quite well all things considered.

"~Yes I'm, Stuck in the Middle with you, stuck in the middle with you~"

His voice faded out as he continued to strum along the chords as I gradually got quieter on the piano as well. I stopped playing, listening to just Jaune strumming quietly away, probably still singing in his head as he finished off the progression, and lifted his hand from the strings. I lowered my keyboard cover and leaned my elbows on it as I watched him slowly come to the realization that the room was quiet again, his face twitching nervously as he looked up at me.

"There, how was that?" he asked, lifting the guitar back to its case.

"You know, I think that's the first time you've ever played music for just me." I smiled over at him, dumbly. "Or even sang for me. That was a first."

"I… wasn't aware you wanted me to sing for you, or that I needed to have a reason to."

"I didn't say you needed a reason to, just that this is the first time you have. But I mean, I'll take every opportunity for you to embarrass yourself in front of me, if that's okay with you."

He let out a brief chuckle, closing the case and latching it.

"Alright, if you insist."

"Oh, I'm going to frequently and fervently insist from now on."

"That's up to you, man."

Emmy interrupted us from her position off to the side, her voice sharp and mildly irritated.

"You know, you two woke me from my nap, which I was enjoying." She paused to cross her arms. "...But you interrupted it with rock and roll, so I guess that's okay. Why'd you put your guitar away, aren't you going to continue?"

He shook his head and looked back over his shoulder at her.

"Not immediately, I need to eat my lunch. Don't want to get the axe dirty."

I chuckled and stood up from the piano, and pulled myself around to sit in the row of chairs next to Jaune.

"What, you mean you didn't eat during third period?"

"Weiss, only you have lunch during third period, Em and I have Pre-Calc in third period."

"Nerds."

"You have it fifth period. So, you're a nerd too, Miss Piano-Lessons."

How dare he say such a correct statement around me. Didn't he understand that I was trying to one-up him? The whole point of one-upping someone is that they don't bring to the table facts about you that might counteract anything you've said! It's like he didn't understand basic etiquette.

"Yeah, well, shut up."

"You shut up."

"Nuh uh."

He just rolled his eyes at me and stood up.

"I'm gonna go get my lunch, I'll be back in like, five minutes."

"You do you, nerd." I chirped, leaning too far back in my chair.

Jaune chuckle-scoffed at me as he moved through the chairs and out the door, closing the latch quietly and disappearing away down the hall. I rubbed my ear as I stood up, and moved rows to sit down next to Em, who had laid back down on the chairs and closed her eyes. I poked her in the knee.

"So when the fuck did Jaune learn to play guitar so well?!" I nearly yelled.

Em's eyes snapped open, and a look of confusion crossed her face as she shot upright.

"Oh my god, I know. Like, holy shit."

"That's not just 'can play guitar', that's 'hidden unbelievable deceitful talent'."

"Fuck, if I'd 'a known, Ryan would be so out of the picture."

I spun in place and glared.

"You wouldn't dare."

"Sorry, Weiss. What, you want me to lie to you?!"

"Emmy, you promised. We had a deal."

"I know, I know, but did you see that asshole playing guitar a minute ago like I did?"

I grimaced at her, squinting down my eyes to try and evaporate her with my mind. It didn't work.

"Yeah, I saw, Emerald. You promised not to interfere."

She shrugged.

"I'm gonna have to."

"I'm telling Ryan."

"Go ahead, he'll even agree with me. I hate to tell you this, Weiss, but… Jaune's getting kinda hot, lately."

I stood up, pointing an angry finger in her direction.

"To the death it is, then."

"I'm bigger and stronger than you, Snowflake. Do you really think you're going to win that?"

"God knows I gots to try. For the honour of my people."

"What, skinny white bitches?"

"May we forever be strong."

I stood up on a chair, one foot on the seat and one on the back rest, and posed as dramatically as I could, barely teetering from my elevated position. I could see Mr. Fernbank's worried glare from his position over at his desk. Sure, I wasn't supposed to be standing on chairs, but I was kinda not worth the effort to most teachers, as they knew I would do it again unprompted. Emmy just rolled her eyes and laughed at me.

"You take everything too seriously, babe, you know I'm just riling you up."

"Rude."

"I am right though. Jaune is… starting to rub off on me a little. I don't like that I like it."

"All those years actively avoiding him, and now this, Emerald?"

"You can't say you aren't the same, Weiss."

I paused, staring down at her.

"You have a point."

The door creaked open just out of frame, we both turned to see the devil himself stroll back in, stopping to stare at the situation he found us in.

"Who has a point?" he asked, wide-eyed. "Why are you on a chair?"

"You just missed it, they were about to go all medieval on one another." Mr. Fernbank chimed in. "It was gonna be spectacular."

"Shame I missed it. Please get down, you're gonna fall."

It was my turn to roll some eyes, this time mine, and at Jaune.

"No I'm not, don't be silly."

"You have a history of falling off things. Get down."

"Pfft, no, what are you, the safety poli- waa!"

I fell backward off the chair, having lost my balance only briefly. It was pretty spectacular, if short lived. I landed with my feet on the ground and my hands out to steady myself. After a beat, Em completely lost her shit and started cry-laughing in her chair, unable to breathe or even speak. I could hear my teacher choking back a laugh as well at his desk, desperately trying to remain professional in light of my unco-ordinated ass falling off the very obviously unsafe chair. I dunno if Jaune will ever tire of dealing with my dumb ass, but at this point it's just par for the course for him.

"Ugh."

"Groan all you like, I didn't hurt myself, did I?"

"You're going to one day."

"Aw, you care about me!" I shot a glance to Em, who stopped laughing for a brief moment to wink at me. "Such a sweet boy."

"No, I just don't want to have to answer to your sister the next time you get sent home with a broken arm."

"Oh, it's all about self-preservation, isn't it?"

Jaune shrugged and sat back down in his chair, his lunch box in his hand.

"Whatever I gotta do to keep you safe and keep her size thirteens out of my butt."

I crossed my arms and sat down in the chair I nearly ate shit off of.

"Rude."

Jaune shrugged again, opening his lunch box and pulling out his sandwich. Any other day I would have reached over and grabbed it and stuffed it directly into my food hole, but after the conversation with Emerald I didn't really want to show any kind of affection at this particular moment. So I sat and watched as he carefully placed each of the Tupperware containers on a turned chair in front of himself, lining everything up so it was uniform like the lunatic he was, and placing his bottle of apple juice on the ground so it would have less of a distance to fall should he or anyone else in the room decide to kick it.

Unfortunately, Emmy knew that I would have proliferated Jaune's lunch in this sort of situation and made a dive for it, grabbing the little blue box that contained the sandwich and retreating up two rows of chairs to consume it. Jaune didn't even put up a fight, sighing into himself and the knowledge that he would most certainly not be getting his food back. Em snickered as she cracked off the lid and grabbed half of the PB and J that lay within, cramming it swiftly and messily into her mouth. If I'd known that there was such a delicious collection of nut and fruit pastes to be had, I would have forgone my trepidation and theived anyways, but today Em beat me to it. A shame.

"Sho," Em pushed through a mouth of peanut butter sticking her braces together. "What elsh can you play?"

He put his pilfered lunchbox aside and leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head.

"Like as in instruments or songs on the guitar?"

"Shongsh, dumbash."

He looked back down at the guitar for a second.

"Few other things, mostly rock stuff. My dad's big into that, so that's what he taught me."

"Wha' 'bout that one Derek an' the Dominosh shong?"

He picked the guitar back up and slung the strap over his neck and got comfortable again. I dunno what it was about it, but the big-bodied Mustang just looked right in his arms. He grabbed his pick.

"You mean this one?"

And of course, as you'd expect, out came the opening riff of 'Layla', as perfectly as Eric Clapton himself might have, bending the strings almost to the point of breaking to get that sweet bluesy tone. Em smirked and pointed with her stolen sandwich.

"Yea, tha' one."

"Jaune, if I may," our teacher briefly interrupted. "But by chance have you heard of Eric Johnson?"

He nodded, moving his shoulder so the strap fell from his shoulder.

"I have."

Mr. Fernbank paused for a second, turning fully around in his chair.

"You know, you're the first of my students to ever know that name."

"He's popular in France, would you believe. My dad used to play Ah Via Musicom on repeat when I was growing up. It's kinda ingrained in my head."

Mr. Fernbank nodded slowly.

"Ever play anything of his?"

"I can do the chorus part of Cliffs of Dover, but none of the crazy solo stuff."

"Well, I wouldn't expect you to do any of that, that would be insane."

"Here, look-"

Jaune brought the guitar up level again, and flipped the tone switch all the way down and cranked the volume dial all the way up. After a brief moment of fiddling the tune through his head, he started out on the familiar arpeggio riff that only a select few guitar aficionados would recognize, let alone be able to play. I sat back and crossed my arms, still amazed and frankly a little insulted by his abilities. He didn't miss notes, he didn't choke up. He just played better than anyone I'd ever seen. I was starting to really believe the whole 'sell your soul to the devil' business of hidden talents. Because there was just no way that he could do what he was doing without some kind of divine intervention.

As soon as the magic was over, he did a hair flick to get his yellow blond bangs out of his eyes and looked up at me. I smiled over at him.

"Jaune, marry me."

He chuckled and turned his guitar down so the pickups would stop buzzing so loud in the old tube amp.

"If you insist."

I was shocked for a moment, turning to Emmy, who had the same dumb look on her face.

"Well, shit, if it was that easy I would have asked years ago. Play me something else."

"Alright. You guys okay with Dire Straits?"

"We're in dire straits as it stands, Jaune." Em quipped. "Also, weren't you guys talking about starting a band?"

Jaune nodded and started to play the guitar part quietly, easing in the flamenco-style D-minor chord, tone switch flipped all the way up to the softer of the two pickups.

"That's what she said, yeah. One of us is gonna have to play drums, and I'm a little preoccupied at the moment."

I looked to Em.

"Can you play drums?"

"Pfft, no, I can't keep time to save my life, you know that."

I pursed my lips.

"That means I'm gonna have to learn how to play drums, doesn't it?"

"Looks like it," Jaune quipped, continuing to roll through Sultans of Swing as if it was background music. "I can riff all day long, it only becomes a song if I have backup."

I thought about this for a moment.

"So what you're saying is…"

He nodded again. "I'm gonna need my Meg White."

A smile formed on my face.

"Alright, Jack. I'll see what I can do. It's probably gonna be a bit of a learning curve, going from piano and trumpet to drums."

"You can do it. I've seen you do more with less."

I sighed and stood up.

"Why don't I give it a shot. What's a song that I've heard that's got a simple beat I could learn in five minutes?"

Jaune stood and moved around to the amp so he could be closer to the drum kit as I moseyed over and sat down on the little round stool. He pondered, his brow furrowed.

"Give me one reason?"

"Uh, because I asked you to, dumbass."

He paused a second to scoff, smiling.

"No, I mean the Tracy Chapman song, 'Give Me One Reason'."

"Oh. Is it hard?"

"Not that I remember. Just ride consistent eighth-notes on the hi-hat basically."

"Okay, I guess that's-"

"Hold on, I have the sheets for that." Mr Fernbank interrupted, shooting up and diving for his filing cabinet. "Ah, knew you'd be there. Here you go, Weiss."

He bounced over and set the two pages on a stand just behind the toms. He fiddled with it a second to make sure I could see both pages, and that they were flat.

"Right, I'm not expecting you to do any crazy fills here and here, so just keep going with the main chorus through those. Up top is the line for the high-hat, the beat notation is the same as you'd see in your trumpet or piano sheets. This isn't exactly a right or left-handed instrument, but I'll advise that you play the high-hat with your right hand and the snare with your left like everyone else. It will make remedial lessons much simpler for me."

"Arright." I chipped, grabbing a pair of sticks out of the bucket next to the kick drum. I used one to point at the page. "I'll assume this line is the snare drum?"

"You got it. This is a relatively simple drum beat. This little squiggle means a roll, and you can ignore that for now, it's not something I can teach you in a minute. Just… improvise. You'll get it."

"I certainly hope so. Besides, if I fall behind, Jaune'll be there to keep the beat going , right?"

He winked back at me.

"I got you."

"Sweet."

I watched Jaune roll out a kink in his neck as he fiddled with the knobs on his amp. He turned around, satisfied, and moved over to in front of the drum kit, taking his pick back out of his teeth.

"You ready?"

I fidgeted, twirling the drumsticks in my fingers.

"I guess so."

"Right. This is 'Give me one Reason', by Tracy Chapman. Two, three, four…"