Phineas hyped up the band all day at school. About noon, he had half of the school body begging to be a member or a roadie or a sound technician or a publicist. Finny had that sort of hold over people like hypnotism.
As could be expected, several girls ran their fingers through Phineas' silky black hair. I wished that I could do the same.
--
That night, in the middle of my history essays, I received a call from Finny.
"Hey, dude!" he exclaimed. I had never heard him use that phrase before. "You have to come over here! I have something awesome to show you!"
Begrudgingly, I consented and arrived at his house within thirty minutes; I made sure to complete my homework before I left.
I didn't linger in the living room or the staircase. I didn't even knock on his door. I simply flowed inside and stared at his face for any sign of emotion. I saw ecstasy.
He motioned to his right next to the bed at a guitar and a drum kit.
"Oh, my god, Finny!" I exclaimed. I immediately went over and picked up the guitar. It was partially wood and partially a black plastic covering. I strummed the strings to get the feel of it. Then, I remembered something crucial:
"Finny, I don't know how to play the guitar."
He winked at me. "I'll teach you," he offered. "I don't know how to play the drums, but I figure I'll just randomly hit them until I can find a rhythm to go with the songs. Then, I'll show you how to play the guitar part of it. Leper's supposedly a whiz on piano. Keyboard shouldn't be that much different. I'm not sure if Brinker can play bass, but he can learn, right? We can all sing. Everyone can sing." He said this with his natural charisma. It made me want to believe that we could actually have a band.
But I didn't.