Mary Amato - Guitar Notes

Hear all the songs from the book, sing with the karaoke tracks, and learn how to write your own songs on the Guitar Notes website, www.thrumsociety.com.

EGMONT
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First published by Egmont USA, 2012
443 Park Avenue South, Suite 806
New York, NY 10016

Copyright 2012 by Mary Amato
All rights reserved

www.egmontusa.com

www.maryamato.com

Illustrations and design elements: M AX A MATO

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Amato, Mary.
Guitar notes / Mary Amato.
p. cm.
Summary: Tripp, who plays guitar only for himself, and Lyla, a cellist whose talent has already made her famous but not happy, form an unlikely friendship when they are forced to share a practice room at their high school.
eISBN: 978-1-60684-300-0
[1. Interpersonal relationsFiction. 2. MusiciansFiction. 3. GuitarFiction. 4. CelloFiction. 5. High schoolsFiction. 6. SchoolsFiction. 7. Single-parent familiesFiction.] I. Title.
PZ7.A49165Gui 2012
[Fic]dc23
2011038115

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

v3.1

In memory of my dad, Jack Koepke, whose hearty rendition of On the Road to Mandalay was the beloved soundtrack of my childhood car rides; for Mr. James McCauley, my eighth-grade English teacher in Libertyville, IL, whose lesson on song lyrics as poetry made my soul thrum; and for all the singers with whom I have sung, most especially the earliest ones: my sistersCathy, Nancy, and Suzanneand my high school friends-in-harmony, Jane Donndelinger Victor and Mary Donndelinger Neuberger.

1. Wear the white belt.

2. Pick up your guitar.

3. Tune.

4. Play.

from Zen Guitar

by Philip Toshio Sudo

SEPTEMBER 2. TUESDAY.

BUMPER-TO-BUMPER DUE TO AN ACCIDENT ON THE LEFT SHOULDER. RESCUE CREWS ARE ON THE SCENE. UP-TO-THE-MINUTE TRAFFIC BROUGHT TO YOU BY MONTGOMERY AUTOPARTS

The clock-radio alarm drills into Tripp Broodys ears, and his eyelids open. After three slow blinks, he realizes what he is seeing three feet from his bed: a note taped to the metal stand where his guitar should be.

He sits up, pushes his long, messy hair out of his eyes, and reads it.

Dear Tripp,

I know youre going to be mad at me, but you didnt keep up your end of the bargain. You didnt do your summer reading or math packet. You didnt do anything but lock yourself in this room and play the guitar. Its like youre addicted to it. Its unhealthy and isolating. You are capable of getting straight As. You can have your guitar back if you have all As at the end of the semester and if you at least attempt to be more social. Dont bring a sour face to school. Nobody likes that. Talk to people this year, okay? It wont kill you.

Love, Mom

P.S. You have brought this on yourself. I really believe that youre going to thank me for this in the long run.

It takes a moment for the reality to sink in. His room is hot and small, the air conditioner wheezing out a pathetically small stream of cold air molecules.

He wants to scream, but he keeps his mouth closed. She must have planned it all out, he thinks, to take his guitar on the night before school begins so that there would be no time to discuss it. She is a thief and a coward.

After pulling on shorts and a T-shirt, he walks into the kitchen, takes her bag of ground coffee out of the cupboard, and pours the coffee down the garbage disposal. Then he walks over to a potted aloe plant, spoons dirt into the coffee bag, apologizes to the plant, neatly refolds the top of the bag, and puts it back in the cupboard.

Finely ground French Roast dirt.

Take that.

Lyla Marks is lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling, fully dressed, her frizzy dark hair fanning on the white pillow like a fern. Her heart is beating abnormally loudly. She puts her hand over it. Calm down.

Her phone buzzes. She knows without looking at the little screen that its Annie. She doesnt want to hear her friends voice right now, because she knows that itll make her heart beat even faster. But she answers.

What are you wearing? Annie asks.

Tangerine top. Blue skirt, Lyla says.

And the shoes that I picked out? Annie asks.

Yeah. Im lying on my bed. I feel like a corpse.

Thats sick. Stop talking like that. Youre freaking me out, Annie says. Were picking you up in five minutes. Be ready.

Lyla slips her phone into the pocket of her jean skirt. Her black cello case is on its side in the middle of her bedroom floor. She imagines opening the window and pushing the case out, imagines it splitting open when it hits the ground, and the cello splintering into pieces.

Lyla! her dad calls.

She picks up her cello and walks out the door.

Her dad is at the bottom of the stairs, looking at his phone. Dr. Prevski just e-mailed. She said yes to adding an extra fifteen minutes to your lessons so you can work on the Coles audition piece!

Lylas heart starts pounding again. Thats great, she says, and busies herself by checking whats in her backpack.

When Annies car pulls up, Lylas dad picks up her cello and follows her out. Play the Bruch piece, he says. Just the second part. Thatll show Mr. Jacoby your range.

Got it, Dad, she says, and smiles.

Have a great first day, sweetie! He puts the cello in the back and says hi to Annies mom as Lyla gets into the car.

Lyla, you look adorable, Mrs. Win says.

Just absolutely adorable, Annie says, and laughs.

Thank you, Lyla says to Mrs. Win.

You both look adorable, Lylas dad says as he closes the back of the car.

We dont want to look adorable, Annie says. We want to look sophisticated.

As Mrs. Win is about to pull out, Lylas dad knocks on the window.

Lyla looks out.

Wheres your head? Put your seat belt on, he says through the window.

Sorry, she says, and buckles up.

Ready? Mrs. Win asks.

Yeah, Lyla lies.

Tripp wants to turn around and make a run for it. Too many students are streaming through the school doors at the same time, yelling and laughing. As soon as hes inside, a girl next to him screams at another down the hall. Beanie, you look totally cute!

Beanie screams back, Casey, I missed you all summer!

Tripp turns to the girl called Beanie, who he doesnt know at all, and asks, Why did you just lie?

What? The girl gives him a look.

From the sound of your voice, its obvious youre lying, he explains.

From the sound of your voice, its obvious youre an idiot. The girl runs ahead.

Who wants to hear the truth? Nobody. Well, he talked to someone today. He can tell his mom that. He adjusts his headphones and turns up his music.

Mr. Handlon, the vice principal, is standing outside the main office. Welcome back, Alex. Nice to see you, girls! Tripp Broody, headphones away or theyre mine.