guitar wizard - writeabookinaday.com€¦ · guitar wizard wabiad 2017 nbwg team emily antonio leah...

G u i t a rwizard

WABIAD 2017 Northern Beaches Writers’ Group

G u i t a rwizard

WABIAD 2017 NBWG TeamEmily Antonio

Leah Boonthanom Bronwen Bowden

Jacqui BrownRodney Jensen

Chris Lake Tony McFadden

Kylie Pfeiffer Zena ShapterSonia Zadro

Chico And Opie HickeyAnnette ArcherAlison AntonioE Bowden-ReidAndrew PfeifferKylie Pfeiffer

Lachlan PfeifferSnezana Gashi

Jenny GayBernadette Colling

Sonia ZadroBrad Ward

Richard Bowden-ReidCaitlin Fitzgerald-Carter

Mel Sinclair

Kate GowRoger ChanKay Greene

Patrick KeuningRebecca Twist

Zoya NojinSusannah Russell

Alex CainRodney JensenTracey Jackson

Jacqui and Softie BrownEmily Antonio

Kathleen Kennedy-HewittDrew Seitam

S p o n s o r s2017

We hope our story creates some music for your soul as you work through your own battles in life.

Now let us take you on an adventure with two teens, a magical guitar and the gig of a lifetime to show how overcoming our

greatest fears can only give us our greatest strength.

We wish you all the very best on your own journey and hope you find love and peace along the way.

m e s s a g e for the kids

C o n t e n t sChapter 1 - The Lion Sleeps Tonight 9

Chapter 2 - The Wizard 14

Chapter 3 - Gonna Get Caught 19

Chapter 4 - Let Me Entertain You 24

Chapter 5 - A Mother’s Prayer 28

Chapter 6 - The Day the Music (Almost) Died 33

Chapter 7 - Good Vibrations 38

Chapter 8 - Bustin’ Loose 42

Chapter 9 - Lose Yourself 46

Chapter 10 - Song of Joy 50

9

Northern Beaches Writers’ Group

1 . T h e l i o n s l e e p s t o n i g h t

Nasla seemed to welcome the cool breeze ruffling his fuzzy mane as much as Emerald enjoyed it lifting her long hair from her sticky-hot neck. Sydney was supposed to be cooler than this in spring, yet both she and the lion were panting. She led him towards the shade of a Moreton Bay Fig, near what would be the concert’s wire fence perimeter, peeling off her long-sleeved top as they ambled over.

“I should have worn shorts,” she mumbled, flapping out her t-shirt, then tying the top over her jeans. “Mum did say. Should’ve listened, eh, Nasla. Mum always knows.”

The tree was so large, its high buttress roots spreading smoothly out like a muddy overflowing stream, the fence couldn’t sit flush with the ground without completely blocking off the footpath behind it. So someone had balanced fence sections on top of the roots instead, then crisscrossed barricade tape between

10

Guitar Wizard

sections to hold them together.

Nasla flopped down onto the grass.

“Big night tonight,” she said, crouching beside him. “Ostrogoth Oswald, Rock God, farewell concert of the decade – and you’re the special guest.” She gave him a scratch under the chin.

He closed his eyes and purred in a guttural rhythm of hums and puffs.

“You’re such a softy. Five minutes, okay, then we walk the stage. They’ll be starting sound checks soon and you need time up there to get used to the place.” She sat down to reach further under his chin, where his pale fur turned coppery and thickened into coarse strands that tufted together. “Nothing more scary than being up there in front a crowd of people in a strange place. All those eyes. All staring at you.” She shuddered. “I couldn’t do what you do. Remember when I had to present my government assignment online to class the other week? I turned off the camera, Mr Guzman let me go first and I still couldn’t handle it. Don’t worry, in the end he let me send in an essay.”

Nasla shifted his paws, lowered his neck and tilted an ear towards her.

“Let me guess, you want a song? Okay then, just for you. La-de-la-la,” she sang to him. “Oh la-de-da-da.”

His purring deepened.

“De-la-de-da da da.”

“Nice,” someone said from the path behind her.

She jumped.

“You’ve a good voice.”

Emerald turned to see a tall, slim boy in black shiny jeans and a

11


cut-off singlet that hung loose from broad shoulders, his long curly brown hair tied in a ponytail. He looked about sixteen, though younger with his grin. It seemed to take up most of his face, and she couldn’t help but smile back. It had been so long since she’d spoken to someone in her age bracket. “Thank you.”

“Do you sing with the band?” he asked.

“Me? No way!” She shook her head. “I could never do that!”

“Maybe you should? You’re good enough.”

“I don’t think so, but thanks. You should hear my mum. Now she can sing.”

“Sounds like music runs in the family.”

“It’s the Irish in me.”

“Oh yeah,” he peered through the wire at her green eyes, “inherited the pale skin too?”

“Why do you think we’re in the shade?” She gestured at Nasla. “O’Sheas don’t do sun.”

He hooked his fingers through the wire and leant on the fence. “Oswald’s ‘special guest’?” He nodded in Nasla’s direction.

“Yeah, this is Nasla.”

The lion glanced up at the sound of his name, eyelids heavy over big yellow eyes from all Emerald’s scratching.

“He’s supposed to terrify the crowd later,” Emerald added, “with his big roar. But he’s got very little roar in him, unless provoked of course. Or he hears bad music. You don’t like anything out of tune, do you Nasla? Let’s hope Oswald’s in tune later.”

“Oh, he will be, for sure.” The boy cocked his head in thought. “Wait, do you mean your lion’s going on stage later? Oh, oh,” he stepped back in excitement, “you mean for when Oswald plays

12

Guitar Wizard

‘The Lioness’ and a lion roars in the chorus? Sick! That’s going to be so cool! Oswald’s the best.”

“He sure is,” Emerald agreed, though she wasn’t much of a rock fan herself. She preferred haunting melodies of indie singer-songwriters, the wailing beauty of modern cappella groups, and the odd hip-hop artist. “You a fan?”

“The biggest!” He grinned wider, if that were possible. “Been playing guitar all my life, well, as soon as I could convince my parents to let me. They reckon music’s for losers. Say I ought to get a proper job. They’ve got me at TAFE, doing a Cert III in Bricklaying.” He rolled his eyes. “You?”

“Home-schooled.” He raised his eyebrows. “I travel around with my mum,” she explained, “could be anywhere one week to the next. Nasla belongs to her.”

“You’re mum’s a lion tamer?!” More grinning. “That’s hectic!”

Emerald nodded. It was pretty cool. “I will be too one day.” She leant over Nasla and gave him a big hug, nuzzling her face in his mane. It smelt musky and familiar. “Animals are the best. One day I’d like to have my own travelling zoo, or study to become a vet – anything with animals really.”

“But for now it’s the rockstar lifestyle – this week Sydney, next week the world?”

“Something like that.”

He leant close to the fence again. “Lucky!”

She shrugged and gave Nasla some long strokes down the softer fur of his back. She really needed to get going, give Nasla that stage walk to acclimatise him, but she also didn’t want to leave just yet. Home-schooling could be lonely sometimes.

“I’m Jack,” the boy said, reaching between two sections of fence to shake her hand.

13


“Emerald,” she introduced herself.

“So, Emerald, what are the chances of your giving me a quick tour backstage? I can’t tell you how awesome that would be. Look,” he eased himself between the fence section and the tree, “I could just squeeze through here, no one would even know I was here.”

“I, er…” Emerald didn’t know what to say. The concert grounds were off-limits to non-staff before the concert, for safety reasons as much as commercial ones.

“It’s all legit,” he pulled a wallet out of his jeans, opened it to find his ticket. He handed it to her. “See? I’m not trying to scam my way in for free or anything, just a big fan. The biggest in fact. Please?”

Emerald looked at the ticket, then at the grin slowly returning to Jack’s face as she sighed in defeat and changed her mind. “Okay then.” She stood and lifted up the barricade tape. “Nasla and I need to go to the stage anyway. But let’s make it quick. Ten minutes max. And don’t touch anything.”

14

Guitar Wizard

2 . T h e w i z a r d

“Come on then,” Emerald said to Jack as she ushered him across the leafy park towards the giant ‘backstage’ marquee at the rear of the concert stage. He was walking too slowly for someone who wasn’t supposed to be here. “Hurry up, we don’t want to get caught.” Nasla was taking big strides beside her on his lead, whereas Jack strolled, his mouth ajar as he stared at all the activity. Roadies were setting up lighting and testing equipment, rushing around with leads and clipboards. Her mum was likely somewhere nearby too, checking everything was in place for later. No one wanted an agitated lion on stage – even a lion as placid as Nasla could get distressed under the right circumstances.

Emerald scanned the park as they went, keeping an eye out for Oswald too. She’d only met him once and he was intimidating enough when he was happy. She didn’t want to see what would happen if he caught her with an unauthorised fan backstage. Apparently, the last time someone snuck in backstage, Oswald

15


had personally put the guy in a headlock, tossed him out the back doors and head first into the garbage bins, the poor guy’s legs left sticking out like chopsticks. She didn’t want that to happen to her, or Jack.

Still, it was so nice having someone nearly her own age to hang out with for a while.

“We have to put Nasla in his pen first,” she told Jack, leading him around the side of the stage and past the marquee. Nasla’s pen was just behind their trailer, a small cream one-bedroom caravan. “Just over here.” The pen was a transportable cage of metal bars to keep both Nasla and people safe, though inside it had plenty of room for Nasla to stretch out his legs and a thick layer of straw. She quickly opened the gate and lead him inside. “I’ll be back soon to do your stage walk, I promise,” she said, giving him a scratch under his tawny mane. “Why don’t you have a nap. Right,” she said to Jack, closing the door, “this way.”

Emerald took Jack through the marquee to a small set of rickety wooden stairs at the side of the stage, which lead to an area between heavy dark curtains. “This is ‘backstage’,” she explained, though it was obvious.

They peeked out between the curtains at the big stage, already set up with drums, a keyboard, speakers and microphones. It smelt of hot wires and roadie sweat.

“This is hectic!” said Jack, a huge grin on his face. “This is where I want to be one day. Out on the stage, playing rock music for huge crowds.”

Emerald’s stomach turned at the thought of standing in front of an audience, of any size. Her head spun, making her dizzy.

“I can just see myself there, playing lead guitar. Hey,” said Jack, turning to face her, “have you seen The Wizard?”

16

Guitar Wizard

Emerald nodded. Everyone knew about The Wizard, Oswald The Rock God’s famous guitar. It was metallic blue with shimmering silver strings, and its body was shaped like a lightning bolt. When Oswald played The Wizard, fans said his music sounded like ‘rock magic’. “Yes, I’ve seen it,” she said, realising it was rather hectic. People paid good money just to see The Wizard, even when Oswald wasn’t playing it, yet she, Emerald O’Shea had seen the guitar in person last night, when Oswald had taken it into his trailer. It had glimmered in the light from his doorway like a sapphire. “He keeps it on a pillow in his trailer.”

“Can we see it?”

Emerald shrugged. “Maybe. If he’s not in his trailer…”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Jack hurried down the stage steps and through the marquee. He stopped before all the trailers. “Which one?”

Emerald points to a large shiny caravan. There was no one around. “Quickly.” As they snuck across the grass to Oswald’s trailer, her heart raced. She knew it was wrong, but she wanted to see The Wizard again too, up close. Her palms were sweaty as she grabbed the caravan door’s handle, and pulled it open.

Emerald and Jack stepped inside.

“Whoa,” they said at exactly the same time. The Wizard was sitting in the middle of the cabin, resting on a plump golden pillow. It looked bigger up close and seemed to be shimmering again, although no light shone directly on it. Emerald felt a tingle in her spine.

Jack reached out and picked the guitar up. “Think I should try it?”

Emerald nodded, unable to speak for a moment. The guitar was transfixing.

17


Jack put the strap over his head and started to play.

Emerald recognised the song immediately, it was one of her favourite songs by the Blue Eared Lizards. She’d wanted to see them in concert once, but her mum never let her go to any rock concerts. Her mum didn’t like guitars.

“You’re really good!” said Emerald as Jack finished the song.

He grinned. “You have a try.”

Emerald took the guitar, put the strap over her shoulder, held the guitar against her body and brushed the strings. She’d never played a guitar before, but her fingers seemed to find the right notes

without her trying. Did her fingers already know the tune? They moved nimbly and with rhythm. She closed her eyes and started to sing. In that moment, everything felt perfect. For a moment, she forgot Jack was even in the cabin with her. The notes coming out of The Wizard sounded like magic. She sounded like magic. It was more incredible than anything she’d known before, even looking after Nasla. And it was all the more special because she was playing on the famous metallic lightning bolt guitar.

“Hey,” shouted Jack suddenly. “What’s happening, what are you doing to it?”

Emerald looked down. The pointy lightning bolt tips on the guitar weren’t pointy any more. They were starting to curl, the way dying leaves curl up at the tips. And its metallic blue wasn’t so blue any more, patches seemed to be turning, well, green.

18

Guitar Wizard

“It’s not meant to do that!” Jack snapped. “Is it? Did you see it change just then?”

“I don’t know.’ Emerald frowned and studied the guitar’s form and colour. Had it really changed? No, surely not. She must’ve imagined it. “I don’t think so.” She glanced up.

Jack’s expression, on the other hand, had changed, and he wasn’t looking so friendly anymore. “Maybe you should put it down,” he said sternly. “You’re made for singing, not guitar.”

Emerald felt a flush of annoyance. Who was he to judge? She shrugged off its strap, but paused before putting The Wizard back on its pillow. Jack’s ten minutes was up. It was time to walk him out of the park and take Nasla on his stage walk, like she was meant to do.

“Emerald!” a voice screeched at her across the cabin, so loud the trailer’s windows shuddered. “What are you doing! You know you’re forbidden to play the guitar.”

Emerald turned to face the door.

Her mum stood there, eyes flashing and body shaking. “Put it down, right now!”

Emerald’s face went white and she dropped the The Wizard. Now she was in trouble.

19


3 . G o n n a g e t c a u g h t

As the guitar slammed onto the caravan’s cheap vinyl floor, Emerald felt a sharp stabbing pain in her left ribs. She gripped her her side, though nothing and no one had touched her. Had the guitar hurt her somehow when it fell?

“Don’t ignore me,” her mum snapped, “I said, what are you doing in here? And who are you?” she asked Jack.

“Jack?” he said, almost as an apology. “Why, who are you?”

“Catherine, Emerald’s mother.”

“Ah,” Jack nodded, “I see the family resemblance now.” He pointed at her long jet black hair.

“I can’t believe you,” she turned back to Emerald, “you know how much I hate you going near musical instruments, of any kind. How dare you disobey me!” Her eyes bulged like an angry bull’s.

“Your mum’s voice doesn’t sound so beautiful now,” muttered Jack. “You are so utterly busted.”

20

Guitar Wizard

“You shouldn’t even be here,” Emerald hissed back, bending over to pick up The Wizard. As soon as she touched it, the pain in her side disappeared. “That’s strange,” she mumbled to herself, holding the guitar against her body again. If only her mum and Jack would disappear, she could sink back into the heady bliss of strumming its strings...

“Neither of you should be here, much less touching Oswald’s guitar,” snapped her mum. “Firstly, you’re absolutely not allowed, and secondly, imagine how much it’ll cost to fix if you’ve broken it?”

Emerald gently brushed the strings and started softly humming. It felt so natural, like the guitar was somehow becoming a part of her, like they were getting to know each other.

Her mum’s face momentarily softened. “Come on, Emmy,” her voice softened too, “let’s get out of here before we all get caught. You know I can’t afford to lose this gig. Just make sure the guitar isn’t damaged.”

Mum was right, they needed this gig. So Emerald allowed herself one final lingering strum before placing The Wizard reverently back on its pillow. There was no visible damage, though the pointy lightning bolts definitely looked, well, less pointy. She fluffed its pillow a couple of times, hoping that Oswald wouldn’t notice anything different.

Jack stroked the peghead. “Man, that beast is sick. And I don’t mean your pet lion.”

“Move,” her mum warned with a stomp of her foot, her anger returning. “Vamoose!” She pushed them both through the trailer’s flimsy door.

21


“Whoa,” Jack protested, yanking up his black skinny jeans and stumbling down the steps. “Alright, alright, I’m going. Gee, who’s that?” he asked as a voice screeched over a microphone on stage, attempting but failing to sing.

Emerald frowned. It sounded like Oswald, yet he hadn’t sounded like that when she’d overheard him singing earlier. Of course that wasn’t over a microphone. “That’s Oswald. Probably something wrong with the stage set-up.”

“We should hurry,” said her mum, leading them away from the trailer area and towards a crew exit gate on the side of the complex. “Nasla shouldn’t have been left alone this long and Oswald could be returning for his guitar at any moment.”

“Whatevs,” said Jack, tightening his ponytail. “We didn’t break it.”

“No,” her mum told him, “but if Oswald finds out that a couple of teenage break-in vandals have been in his trailer, and one of them is mine – God knows how I’ll make rent this month.”

As they walked, Emerald studied the scuffed toes of her green Converse sneakers, a thirteenth birthday gift from her mum, despite her usual refusal to pay premium prices for brand-name goods. She didn’t want yet another lecture on how hard her mum worked to make ends meet and she already felt super guilty for helping Jack sneak in. Yet it all seemed worth it somehow to have played those sweet fleeting chords.

As they neared the crew exit, the noise on the stage quietened.

Moments later, a door banged and Emerald turned around to see Oswald entering his trailer.

“Oh no,” Jack stopped walking. “I don’t want to cause no drama, honestly. But, I think I left my Illy cap in there.” He meant the trailer.

22

Guitar Wizard

“We can’t go back for it now,” her mum nudged him on, “come back when the concert starts, maybe, and ask in lost property. I mean, you’ve even got a ticket and everything.”

“But if you just let me stay a while, I could nip back in and get it. We could just wait until he leaves and…”

“You have to leave.” Mum grabbed his arm. “You’ve probably got a nice home in the suburbs, a garden, a car – we need this money.”

A big gust of wind blew past them, swirling dirt and rubbish around.

Emerald rubbed her eyes as a trailer door slammed loudly.

Oswald was rushing out of his trailer and running in their direction, his hair flying everywhere in the wind, making him look a little crazed. In one hand was a walkie-talkie. In the other was The Wizard. “Hey, you three. Stop! Who’s been in my trailer? Which one of you’ve been playing The Wizard?” he shouted.

“Please just go,” said Emerald to Jack. “You’re not meant to be here and my mum and I are going to get in a lot of trouble now.”

Jack pretended not to hear. He turned around and smiled at Oswald. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Oswald, sir.”

Oswald narrowed his eyes and spoke into his walkie-talkie. Four burly security guards swiftly moved to block the exit behind them.

“Don’t you say anything,” Emerald whispered to Jack, “not a thing, okay?”

“Bring them on stage!” Oswald told the guards. “The rest of the crew too. We need to get to the bottom of this, right now.”

In silence, the three of them returned to the stage with Oswald and the guards. It quickly filled with the stage and event crew, who whispered in muffled tones.

23


Oswald grabbed the mic. “So, it seems someone broke into my trailer and played with my guitar.” He paced along the stage front. “You didn’t think I’d notice? Of course I noticed! Now, I need to know who it was.”

Emerald shifted uncomfortably, nervous even though her mum moved to stand protectively close to her and tightly squeezed her hand.

Jack nervously cracked his knuckles, foregoing the pinky on each hand.

Oswald sighed impatiently, brushing a stray hair from his face before placing his hands on his skinny rockstar hips. “Folks, I’m waiting.”

Emerald stepped forward. “I can explain,” her voice trembled. There were too many people here. Even though she’d already met the crew and roadies around her, seeing them all together in the one place – they became a crowd, and she hated crowds. “I um, you see, um…”

“What she means to say is,” Jack interrupted, stepping in front of her, retying his ponytail before clearing his throat. “Oswald, sir, it was me.”

24

Guitar Wizard

4 . l e t m e e n t e r t a i n y o u

“You,” Oswald asked Jack, quiet and threatening, “you played my guitar?” He stepped toward Jack and dismissed the rest of the crew with a flick of his hand.

They separated and scattered back to their work, leaving Jack standing out.

Oswald peered at the teen, sizing him up: messy hair, shiny black jeans and loose-hanging singlet.

Emerald shook her head at Jack, desperate for him to keep quiet.

He saw her pleading eyes but turned back to Oswald anyway. “I did,” he confirmed. “I’m sorry, sir, I’m just such a huge fan, and

25


playing The Wizard – well, it was magical.”

Oswald’s eyes lit up. “Magic, eh? Come here.” He beckoned Jack towards some speakers at the front, where he hooked up The Wizard. “Show me.”

Jack slowly followed Oswald to centre stage, his shoes scuffing across the floor like he was nervous too.

Emerald frowned. Wasn’t this Jack’s dream?

Dead centre stage, Oswald held out the beautiful guitar by its neck with both hands, as if gifting it to Jack.

At first Jack stared at the unbelievable offering, hesitant to accept it.

“Play it,” Oswald ordered.

Jack nodded, took a deep breath, then took the guitar from his idol and put its strap around his shoulder. His expression relaxed the moment he strummed his first note.

It reminded Emerald what it had felt like for those brief seconds it was in her own hands. A warmth. A magic.

Jack started to play a familiar song. Slowly at first, but then he threw himself into it. He rocked a tune that had some nearby crew, who had stopped working to listen, gasping in delight and amazement. He played with flourish and soul, his hands ripping up a great melody. His hair flew with the movement and his eyes closed with emotion. He seemed in his element.

When he finished the song and prepared to start another, the crew even applauded the young musician.

Oswald smiled and seemed to heave a sigh of relief.

Mum raised her eyebrows, impressed.

It seemed everyone loved Jack’s playing. Everyone except for one...

26

Guitar Wizard

Though Emerald could hear the mixture and melody of sounds that Jack was producing, there was something grating and bitter about his music, and as it reached her ears she reflexively cringed in response. The more he played, the more discomfort it caused, and it became unbearable. Her hands flew to cover her ears and pressed in hard. The noise was so irritating, yet everyone else seemed to be enjoying the show. Oswald seemed especially enthused, his eyes tracking every movement Jack made on the guitar. Emerald tried to listen on, confused by the unique effect the music had on her, but soon every note was like torture to her.

Finally, Oswald raised his hand, and Jack handed the guitar back reluctantly.

Emerald sighed in relief at the blissful silence.

“What’s your name, son?” Oswald asked, smiling.

“Jack Addams.” He spoke with confidence now.

“What do you do, Jack? Where do you play?”

“I’m completing a Cert III in Bricklaying, but I want to be a rockstar, sir. I practice with a band, but we don’t play anywhere yet.”

“Mm,” Oswald paced around Jack, eyeing him from his marked up shoes to the curly mess tied at his neck. “We seem to have a young musician on our hands. How did you get in here, Jack?”

“I needed to see you perform, sir, I needed to see The Wizard. I didn’t mean to break in, as such. Sorry.” He shot a glance at Emerald. He was clearly trying not to mention her helping him at the fence.

Oswald waved a flippant hand. “Fine. I don’t care about that anymore. Tell me, why aren’t you playing more seriously?”

“My parents don’t believe music’s a proper job, so I’m completing a trade to get them off my back.”

27


“I’m so sorry you’ve had to listen to such nonsense,” Oswald shook his head. “Music is everything. Music is life. Without music, what joy is there in the world? How old are you?” Oswald asked sharply.

“Sixteen,” Jack answered.

“Alright, Jack,” Oswald smiled as if deciding something, “it’s clear you’ve got talent. And even though I found that talent after you broke in and played my guitar without permission. I have a once in a lifetime opportunity for you.” Oswald paused for dramatics, every bit the showman. “You are the perfect age,” he announced with a flourish, “to be The Wizard’s Apprentice.”

Jack scratched his head in confusion. “Don’t you mean your apprentice?”

“No, I mean The Wizard’s,” Oswald smiled. “Now, give us one more sample before we get back to sound check. Then you and I will have a little chat.”

With the biggest grin, Jack touched the guitar again, its taut strings and gleaning surface.

Emerald didn’t know what to do. She was happy for Jack, that he had the chance to play for his idol, on the famous guitar. But when he started playing another rock song, her eyes scrunched at the sound and she immediately covered her ears in distress. It was worse than the first time. How could anyone play such a beautiful instrument so badly? The noise overwhelmed her senses and she felt panicky. The beginnings of a headache pounded through her temples.

No, she couldn’t bear it, and without a word to anyone, ran off the stage and away from the guitar.

28

Guitar Wizard

5 . A m o t h e r ’ s p r a y e r

Blinking back tears, hands still pressed over ears, Emerald darted through the marquee, leaping over guy ropes to reach the safety of her and her mum’s trailer as quickly as she could. Her fingers still tingled from where she’d touch the strings; yet her ears rang from the discordant notes Jack was now strumming. She had to get as far away from the stage as possible. At the same time, doing so felt like a betrayal. What was happening to her? Why did she even care about a stupid guitar? She’d never even played one before today!

As soon as she reached their trailer, she leapt up its steps,

29


threw open the door and slammed it behind her. She rubbed her temples as she rushed from window to window, closing them to keep out the awful noise. Was she going mad?

Above the last window, in a nearby white eucalypt, a kookaburra broke into raucous laughter, as if to mock Emerald for her crazy imagination.

She needed to calm down and think. The guitar had seemed to come to life in her hands and almost played itself. And she was sure its shape and colour had changed ever so slightly. Yet it wasn’t possible.

On her way into the kitchenette, Emerald bit at her index finger nail. Is this why her mum had been so insistent about her staying away from musical instruments?

She downed a glass of water, then sat down to figure it out, remembering her mum’s bulging eyes. She couldn’t remember seeing her mum so angry. Angry and... something else. Fear? No, nothing could frighten her mum, the lion tamer – a woman who’d happily put her head into a lion’s mouth. It didn’t make any sense, and the confusion only made her head pound faster. She needed it to stop.

She leapt up and headed into the bathroom in search of some tiger balm. The smelly ointment soothed limbs and headaches alike. She unscrewed the pot and massaged it into her temples, closing her eyes. Breathing slowly, the pounding seemed to fade – until footsteps approach.

“Emerald O’Shea, could you be coming out here please?” Her mother shouted.

Emerald chewed on her bottom lip. Only when her mother was really upset did her natural Irish lilt come through. Emerald slowly opened the bottom half of the front door, where her mum was sat

30

Guitar Wizard

on a step. She patted it, inviting Emerald to join her.

“What’s happening, Mum?” Emerald sat down. “I don’t understand. The music sounded awful but nobody noticed, apart from me. And Jack, he’s doesn’t deserve to play The Wizard. I can’t explain it but when I played the guitar...”

“Something you had no right to do,” interrupted her mother.

“Yes, I know, and I’m sorry. But it’s such a beautiful instrument, Mum, I couldn’t help myself. And when I did, it was amazing. But now, now all I can think about it how Jack shouldn’t be the one playing it. And I… I don’t understand. Why do I feel this way?”

Her mother looked into the distance, though it seesmed she wasn’t so much seeing what was before her as into the past. “It’s my fault, Emmy, I won’t take any more jobs like this. I think it’s time we joined a circus to give us a community, a family.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s the music, you ken, once it gets into your blood – well, you have it in the blood from your da and myself.”

“What do you mean?”

Her mother’s rough hand covered hers. “All you need to know is you must keep away from the music and roadies and musicians – all of it.”

“You mean because of da?”

“I was only three years older than you are now when I met your da. Holy mother but he fair took my breath away. He swept me off my feet and, even though he left without a backward glance, I’ve never regretted our time together.” She looked at Emerald and stroked her hand down her cheek. “And I’ve never, not once, regretted keeping you.” She placed her hands on either side of Emerald’s face. “Still, that doesn’t mean I want the same life for you. Please Emmy, please, promise to keep away from the music.

31


Trust me, it will solve everything if you just stay away.”

Maybe she was right. “Okay, Mum. I promise.”

“And no crossing your fingers behind your back now.” She stood and offered Emerald her hand. “Let’s go check on Nasla now, shall we, treat that old softie to a duet?”

“But that’s music,” Emerald reminded her.

“No, it’s not.” She raised her arms to the sky. “It’s enchantment.”

Stagehands and roadies greeted them and smiled as they walked around the back of the trailer to Nasla’s pen.

“What will we be singing?” her mum asked.

“You choose,” said Emerald with a shrug.

They opened the gate and Nasla stood to greet them. He stretched, showing his long claws for a moment before retracting them. Then he flopped back on the dusty ground as if the exertion had exhausted him.

Emerald felt her mother’s arm rest across her shoulders and snuggled in close. She heard the humming from her mother’s throat as she warmed up her vocal chords. Emerald joined in, and together they slid up and down the scales and moved up the octaves. Strange though, maybe it was just Emerald’s lingering headache – but her mum’s scales sounded… off. Her mum was never out of tune.

“Ready?” asked her mum.

“Yes.”

“We’ll sing ‘Oh Danny Boy’?” Usually her mum would sing the melody and Emerald would come in later to harmonise. But today, when her mum opened her mouth to start, all that came out was a raspy croak.

32

Guitar Wizard

They smiled at each other and tried again.

But again only a flat and tuneless noise came from her mother’s lips. She cleared her throat. “I need a sip of water. It’s been such a warm day, my throat is as dry as the Simpson Desert. I’ll take a swig at the tap over there.”

Emerald watched her mother cup her hands and drink at the nearby tap, but she knew, as sure as she stood there, that water wouldn’t improve her singing. Even when full of cold and suffering from tonsillitis, her mum could still hold a tune, sing like a songbird.

Something wasn’t right. No matter what she promised, there was a problem that wasn’t going away.

33


6 . T h e D a y t h e M u s i c

A l m o s t D i e d

Emerald turned away from her mother, to see Jack and Oswald walking towards them.

Oswald held out his hand to Jack. “Hand me the guitar, mate.” Once they were at the pen, he leaned forward to speak to Emerald’s mum. “Sorry, Cat, I don’t want to be disrespectful, but that was bloody awful. Are you okay? You normally sing like a siren.”

“Thank you, I’m just fine, thanks.”

Oswald looked at Jack, then at Emerald. “No, no, Cat. I don’t think anything is fine right now. The only reason you would be singing out of tune is if… if…” His expression darkened. “What have I missed? If you don’t mind, please sing again?”

Catherine croaked her way through the first line again, then clamped her mouth shut. “Oh my, I think you’re right. I must be

34

Guitar Wizard

coming down with a cold or something.”

“You were fine last night, Mum,” Emerald pointed out. “And this morning. You woke me up, remember? And anyway, a cold wouldn’t make you pitchy.”

“Emmy. That’s not nice.”

“Maybe you’re just off today then. It happens, right?”

Oswald shook his head. “No, it doesn’t just ‘happen’. This isn’t right. It’s not supposed be this way.” He looked at Jack and frowned, then took his guitar by the neck and handed it to Jack. “Show me. Again.”

Jack took the guitar, wiggled his fingers, rolled his shoulders and started playing the solo from Lynyrd Skynyrd’s ‘Freebird’. Eyes closed, he rocked back and forth as the song erupted, despite unamplified.

Emerald winced. It was horrible “That’s enough, right? He’s played it. We’ve all played it. What’s your point?”

“You?” Oswald held his hand up and stopped Jack. “You played the guitar, too?” She nodded. Oswald took the guitar from Jack and handed it to Emerald.

“No, no, I can’t play anything like Jack. In fact, before today I’d never even picked up a guitar.”

“Doesn’t matter. The Wizard chooses the player it thinks worthy, not the one who already knows. Play.”

She took the guitar and put the shoulder strap over her head. “I know what mum sings. I can try that. Not rock, though.”

“That’s okay. Go on.”

Emerald looked at her mum’s face. Her jaw was still clenched and her hands in fists, but she didn’t object. After all, Oswald was their boss, at least for today. So Emerald formed what she

35


thought was a G-chord and played the Irish folk song she heard her mother sing almost every day. The sound from the unamplified guitar seemed louder, clearer, when she played, like it was being pumped through the best tube amps ever built. She smiled and the music seemed to smile with her. “Sing with me, Mum?” She went from strumming to finger picking.

This time, her mum’s voice was clear, like a bell, and soared as she sang.

Emerald looked down in amazement at her fingers dancing across the strings. The word ‘Wizard’ in inlaid pearl along the neck glowed. It was beautiful and yet, when she glanced up, she felt sick in the stomach, dizzy – everyone was staring at her, even some roadies past their trailer beside the marque. She felt nothing but embarrassed and awkward.

She stopped, pushed the guitar away from her body. “Get it away from me!”

Her mum continued singing, though her voice now was an off-keyed croak. She slapped her hand over her mouth in horror.

Oswald was slack-jawed, his face ashen as he looked between Jack and Emerald. “What have I done?”

“Whoa,” said Jack. “Did you see that? The neck’s glowing, and its edges have rounded a bit.”

“What happened to your voice, mum?” Emerald took off the guitar and handed it back to Oswald.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Emmy, when did you learn how to play? I’ve never heard you play before. That was really good.”

“I just picked up the guitar today and played, Mum. It’s not that hard.”

“It’s a lot harder than that.” She gestured at The Wizard. “It is a

36

Guitar Wizard

nice guitar.”

“It’s more that that. And it’s unmistakeable now. Sorry, Jack. If I’d known Emerald had also played it, I wouldn’t have given you the guitar without hearing her first. It’s clearly chosen her, not you. I’m sorry.”

“Chosen?” Emerald asked. “What do you mean, chosen? It’s just a guitar.”

“No, it isn’t.” Jack reached for The Wizard. “You gave it to me, Oswald. You said it chose me. You can’t take it back.” Oswald stepped back to kept the instrument out of Jack’s reach. “Come on, Oswald. This is what I’ve always wanted to do. I can’t be a brickie the rest of my life. I just can’t.”

“This isn’t just a guitar lad, and you know it. Emerald, as I explained to Jack earlier, The Wizard is a very special guitar – it embodies the soul of all music and if it isn’t played by its rightful owner, its chosen owner, music dies.”

“That’s bullcrap,” Jack snapped. “I’m the rightful owner. You already said so. It’s going to make me famous, like you. And as long as we’re making music, who cares about the rest?”

Oswald frowned at Jack. “It’s not just the rest of music, Jack, it’s all of music. Remember the 80s? Disco? Maybe you don’t, but I’m sure Cat does. The previous owner of The Wizard died in a horrible car accident in July of ‘81, before the new owner was chosen.” He looked up at Catherine. “Remember Harry Chapin?”

“So that’s why he had a career.” She raised her eyebrows. “But really, this is a supernatural guitar?”

“I found it in a pawn shop in the late 80s. I started playing it and it changed shape. The word ‘Wizard’ on the neck glowed then, too. It had chosen me. Like I’ve said many times, the best musicians are only as good as their instruments, and this is no

37


exception. Without The Wizard, I’m an average player.” He took a deep breath. “And without an owner, music dies. I’m getting ready to retire, the guitar knows it needs a new owner. But I can’t retire unless a new owner is found.” He took Emerald by the shoulders. “You need to accept this gift from the guitar. It has chosen you. You’re the new owner, and you’re going to play it.”

Emerald shook herself clear and took a step back. “No, I don’t want it. I’m going to be a lion tamer, like my mother. All I care about is animals. I can’t do what you do.”

“Yes, you can. You felt something different when you played, right?”

Emerald shrugged. “It felt pretty cool, but only because I didn’t realise how easy it was.” She shook her head. “There’s no way I could ever stand up on stage in front of thousands of people, like you. That’s just nuts.”

Oswald looked at Emerald’s mum. “You need to help me.”

She folded her arms. “Emmy is not getting into music.”

“Cat, please understand. The guitar has made its choice. If the new owner doesn’t follow through, music will die. This instrument has been around for thousands years. Stradivarius owned it at one time. It was a lute at one point. It is inescapable. Without an owner, music will die, you’ve got to believe me. The Wizard is the soul of music.”

“Give it to me,” said Jack. “Give it back to me. I can do this. She clearly can’t, and doesn’t want to.”

Emerald took another step back. “Mum?”

38

Guitar Wizard

7 . G o o d v i b r a t i o n s

Oswald took Emerald by the arm and pulled her towards the stage. “Okay, so you don’t believe me – watch. Watch and think.” He led her through the marque and up the steps into the area between the curtains. Jack followed close behind them. Lanky, Oswald’s producer, helped him adjust his microphone so he could sing and play simultaneously, then Oswald began strumming the intro of ‘Ruminations’, headphones on to hear the backing set.

Lanky handed Emerald a pair of phones, and she immediately noticed the sounds were discordant and jarring. She glanced at Lanky. He was frowning too, yet when she looked closely at Oswald he seemed oblivious. There was even a slight smile on his face as his body moved in time with what he was hearing.

Lanky pulled off his own phones. “Sorry to interrupt mate, but we’ve got a problem with the audio.”

39


“Like what?” He winked at Emerald. “Is it… dead?”

“The set up’s all wrong. I’m getting feedback on the drums, can’t hear the vocals at all and the drum machine’s out of sync.”

“That’s strange,” said Oswald, passing his phones over to Lanky. “Same on these?”

Lanky listened, then took off the phones and handed them back. “I don’t get it,” he said, “it’s like there’s a hex on the mixer. The output I’m on sounds completely different. Maybe the channels are jangled, affecting the time base and sync. Not sure. We need a new mixer. We don’t have time now. I’ll do a lash up, see if that works.”

Lanky changed the wiring, then signalled Oswald to resume.

This time Lanky shared his phones with Emerald so they were all on the same channel. Lanky and Emerald turned to each other in dismay. “Just as bad as before,” said Emerald.

“Never come across anything like this in me life,” said Lanky. “To hell with it. Let’s try the speakers. If they don’t work, I dunno what to do. Someone’s got to fetch the rest of the band.”

“I’ll get them,” said Jack. He ran off and returned minutes later, band in tow.

The four musicians quickly tuned up their instruments.

“Let’s just run through ‘Ruminations’ again,” suggested Oswald.

Oswald’s intro sounded fair but not fantastic. Was he trying to sound bad on purpose?

No, if it were just Oswald, the other band members would sound okay, but they didn’t. Tom’s rhythm was mechanical and out of sympathy. Esther’s top notes were flat, and Leonard’s bass was unmodulated and lacklustre. Emerald felt tears welling up. She

40

Guitar Wizard

knew they could play so much better. Something wasn’t working. First, the mixer had malfunctioned. Now, the group had lost its mojo.

Oswald gave her another wink. “You see? Music’s already dying. Let’s stop for a sec.” He unstrapped The Wizard and slotted it in the rack by his feet. “I need to have another chat with Emerald.”

Jack edged across the stage. As soon as Oswald was closer to Emerald than he was to The Wizard, he pelted across the stage and snatched the guitar up in one fluid movement. “Ha! Now it’s mine!”

Emerald, Oswald and the rest of the band were frozen in shock as Jack disappeared into the wings on the stage’s opposite side.

There was a low grumble, then Jack reappeared, backpedalling, as Catherine and Nasla advanced, glowering on the would-be thief.

“But it’s mine!” shouted Jack as ran once again.

Catherine and Nasla sprang forward as one, the three of them barrelling back the way Jack had come, the boy’s long hair flying out behind him as he ran.

“Stop!” yelled Catherine. “Or I set Nasla loose!”

41


Jack sprinted towards Emerald, glaring at her as if daring her to stop him. She couldn’t let Jack get away, so stuck out her foot, sending Jack flying. Catherine pulled a spare lead from her pocket and dived at the sprawling boy, landing on top of him with a thud. Two brisk loops around his wrists and ankles, and Jack was restrained, unable to move.

Oswald snatched the guitar from danger like a panicked father, and headed to centre-stage, murmuring soothing words at it as he cradled it in his arms. “You need to fix this, Emerald,” he called over a shoulder. “And soon.”

42

Guitar Wizard

8 . B u s t i n ’ L o o s e

Emerald rushed over to her mum, who was still struggling to restrain Jack, and took Nasla’s lead. “I’ll take care of him, Mum.” She took Nasla and sat with him on stage left away from the now gathering audience. Was it that time already? She looked across the parklands. Yes, the entrance gates were open and fans were streaming inside the fences.

She ran her hand gently under Nasla’s chin. He purred in contentment. Across the stage, Oswald was helping his support act set up. The sound checks weren’t going to happen, there wasn’t enough time.

The park was soon full and, as he finished setting up, Oswald’s gaze come to rest upon her; intense, serious, pleading. He was reaching out to her again, asking her to play. Emerald held his

43


gaze for a moment, then abruptly turned away. As Oswald walked off, the MC came out to introduce the support act.

“Welcome, everyone. We’re just warming up here, you all understand. And I know you all can’t wait to welcome…” The MC paused, and shook his head. He pulled out a running sheet from his pocket and frowned, clearly confused. “...Umm I’m sure you all can’t wait to welcome our support act tonight…” He looked down at his running sheet again. “...Angus and Julia Stone? Whoever they are.”

Emerald looked up at the MC. Angus and Julia Stone? The MC didn’t know who they were. The brother-sister duo were only one the biggest Australian singer songwriters around and they played one of her favourite songs of all time, ‘Big Jet Plane’.

The crowd went silent. People were looking around also looking a little confused. A lone voice rang out. “Who in the world are Angus and Julia Stone?!”

Emerald couldn’t believe it. No-one could remember them. But why was she the only one who could? What was it about her? It seemed as though entire genres of music were disappearing as well as some of the most famous acts in the world.

Angus began playing his guitar and singing while Julia came in with the harmony. Emerald cringed. The notes were off. And it only got worse when Julia introduced her harmonica and they continued to sing.

Nasla was walking around and growling loudly now, becoming more and more agitated. Emerald was torn between trying to calm Nasla and desperately trying to cover her ears to block out the horrible discordant music. By the time they reached the chorus, the crowd was throwing everything they could get their hands on at

44

Guitar Wizard

the stage: drinks, plates of food, burgers, hats, even several shoes. The crowd began yelling and chanting in an uproar. “Get them off! Get them off! Get them off!” Some of the crowd were trying to leave the fenced park, the sound was so bad.

The singing duo came to an abrupt stop and held up their hands to protect themselves from the onslaught of objects as they ran off stage.

The stage remained empty for several minutes before the crowd changed their chanting from “Get them off!” to “We want Oswald! We want Oswald!”

Finally Oswald came on and took the mic.

“Okay, okay everyone. Cool it. Cool it. We’re not sure what’s happening tonight, but there seems to be some kind of magic in the air.” He chuckled nervously. “Hopefully we’ll be able to sort it all out.” He looked over at Emerald again. “In the meantime I’d like you to meet someone very special. She’s the star of my new single, ‘Lioness’.” Oswald looked over at Emerald and waved his hand for her to bring Nasla on stage.

Nasla hadn’t settled since the music had ended and was still pacing back and forth, growling and baring his teeth. Emerald didn’t know what to do. She had to calm him or he wouldn’t be safe to take anywhere near the crowd.

“Come on baby. It’s just a short walk,” she urged. Emerald half dragged, half walked the agitated lion toward the gate at the side of the stage. Oswald met her at the gate and took the chain from her, walking Nasla to the centre of the stage.

When there, he addressed the crowd while holding the hand with Nasla’s chain behind his back. “Sydney meet Nasla!” The crowd, now full to capacity, cheered. Emerald was so relieved they were no longer angry. Then she noticed Oswald deliberately let

45


go of the chain. He glanced at her. What was he doing?

“And Nasla,” Oswald continued, “meet Sydney!” Nasla, now unchained, leapt forward on the stage, roaring loudly into the microphone and baring his teeth. Oswald yelled out to her. “Emerald, we need you. Get up here!”

46

Guitar Wizard

9 . L o s e y o u r s e l f

The crowd erupted in noise, screaming and shoving at each other. Everyone was trying to move away from the stage where the big lion was now loose. Nasla zigzagged from side to side, unsure where she was, her large amber coloured eyes wide in fear. He roared, flashing his teeth, and the crowd went even more berserk.

Emerald saw his distress, watched as he reacted to the screaming and the flashing lights still following their automatic program. A lighting technician then picked him out with a spot, following his every move and Nasla snarled and tried to back away from the bright light. She saw her mum on the side of the stage, restraining Jack. Emerald forgot about the crowd, sprinted to Nasla and grabbed his collar firmly.

He pulled back but Emerald held on and stroked his chin. “It’s going to be all right,” she crooned into his ear. Then she tried to sing to him. Nasla pulled away at the horrible croak that emerged

47


from her mouth. It was affecting her now, this horrible thing that was destroying all the music. Even she was no longer immune. She coughed and tried again, but it was no use. Nothing came out but the barest of whispers. The music was almost completely gone.

“Nasla, I know you like singing,” she said, almost in tears, “ but all I can do is talk. I’ll talk your favourite song to you, okay?”

Nasla stopped pulling, but his eyes were still wild and scanning the stage for some way to escape.

Then Emerald turned and saw the crowd. She froze. It looked as though the sea of people were all staring directly at her, laughing at her awkward, too lanky body. Making jokes that she couldn’t walk without tripping over her feet. Commenting on how weird it was to have funny green eyes and such dark hair and pale skin with that eye colour. Every single horrible thought she’d ever had about herself came rushing back in that moment. Her stomach turned and Emerald thought she was going to be sick. She let out a sob. It was too much.

The crowd was going crazy and now that the big lion had been caught, they’d started throwing things onto the stage again. Emerald knew it had something to do with the music, something to do with it being almost completely lost forever. Is this what the world would turn into without music? An angry mob attacking anything and everything in sight?

Oswald was still at the front of the stage and she saw him beckoning for her to join him, offering her The Wizard. She looked at the guitar in his hands and it seemed to call to her again. She wanted to hold that guitar right now. She wanted to stride up to Oswald and take it from his hands. But how could she do that when every fibre of her being rebelled against being in front of such a massive crowd? Then a memory came to her of her mother,singing lovely, lilting folk songs in her beautiful voice, with

48

Guitar Wizard

Nasla sitting there purring like a kitten. Yet her mum couldn’t croak out one line now. And music gave so much more than just song. It calmed lions. It stopped babies from crying. It gave people something to identify with, a tribe to belong to.

Emerald couldn’t imagine a world without music, without melodies and harmonies and crescendos. The bleakness of it, the lack of magic… she had to do something, and now.

Her first step was so heavy she could hardly lift her foot. How had walking become so difficult? Her heart seemed to have lifted up into her head, rattling her brain with its pounding. She was so confused by the crowd, the screaming, and the flashing lights. And breathing was hard, like a vice was squeezing her chest, making it almost impossible for her lungs to expand. But she just kept taking little steps, and with each step she got closer to Oswald, closer to The Wizard.

Her view of the crowd disappeared behind the bright lights. The wall of angry noise was still there but if she focussed on the guitar, the sounds didn’t mean anything anymore. In that moment she realised they weren’t looking at her or talking about her… that they never had been. Her breath came back and she took in a big lungful of air, and sighed it out in relief. Those people out there weren’t there to be horrible to her. They just wanted to be entertained, to enjoy a moment of music and the magic that it brought them.

This clarity brought a lightness to her body and her feet came unstuck. She ran to the front of the stage, Nasla beside her.

Oswald grinned. “I think you can do better than just talking that lion’s favourite song.” He held The Wizard out to her.

49


50

Guitar Wizard

1 0 . S o n g o f j o y

Emerald eyed the guitar, and felt the pull of it. She still couldn’t quite believe that this guitar was magic, that it was somehow linked to all music in the world. Although her mind didn’t believe it, she felt in her heart it must be true. Somehow it had picked her—someone who’d never even played anything other than the recorder —out of all the amazing talented musicians out there. Her fingers twitched and she reached out with one hand and grabbed the neck. Suddenly she was filled with joy, with melodies and harmonies and intricate scales that just wanted to be played. And she wanted to be the one to play them to as many people as possible, to share the amazing feeling that they gave her.

Then her mum was beside her, taking Nasla’s chain out of her hand. “It’s okay Emmy. You know what you’ve got to do.” Her mum smiled, gently pushing her towards the front of the stage. “Music isn’t bad. It’s amazing. And you can save it. I know you can,

51


Emmy. I take back everything I said to you before.”

Emerald took the final steps to the very front of the stage on her own, and stood in front of the mic. She was completely alone now, surrounded by noise, lights and confusion. The crowd was throwing rubbish at her and yelling but she just ignored it, confident now that she knew what to do. She put the guitar’s strap over her head, and her left hand just fell into place on the neck and her right hand onto the strings. She’d never learnt how to play but it was as though when she held The Wizard, she knew everything about music.

Her first strum was tentative, checking to see if the guitar was in tune. The sound reverberated around the park.

It was just a single strum, but the effect was electrifying.

The crowd stopped moving, stopped screaming and every single eye turned towards her. Just yesterday this would have sent her running from the stage but today… today was different.

“I want to play you a song,” she said quietly. The mic picked up her voice and amplified it to the audience. Then almost of their own volition her fingers started picking out Nasla’s favourite song. The haunting melody carried across the crowd and mesmerised them. Emerald could see from the looks on their faces that the music sounded amazing. The more she played, the more it flowed, the sweeter the sound. She seemed to swell with each note, growing and becoming the music. And in that moment she realised that music was now safe, that it would no longer disappear… not while she had The Wizard.

At the end of the song the crowd cheered and then fell silent again in anticipation, waiting for the next song. Emerald looked around and saw Jack, staring at her.

“That was amazing,” he mouthed at her. He looked impressed.

52

Guitar Wizard

Emerald smiled and then turned to the audience. “I’ve got a friend who I’d like to invite up on stage. And if the rest of the band could join in that’d be great.”

The crowd roared, and for the first time in her life Emerald enjoyed the feeling it gave her, like surfing high on a wave and riding it all the way in to shore.

Jack grabbed a bass guitar from the rack on the side of the stage and ran out to stand beside her, stooping to plug it into the amp on the way, a big grin on his face. Emerald could tell he was loving being on the stage, loving being in front of all those people.

“Play Blue Eared Lizards! ” someone shouted. The rest of the crowd joined in, chanting, “Blue Eared Lizards! Blue Eared Lizards! Blue Eared Lizards! Blue Eared Lizards!”

They’d remembered again. Music was definitely back. Emerald turned to Jack and smiled. “Follow me, okay? Oh, and try to keep up.” She gave him a wink and then her hands were skipping over the strings of the guitar, faster and surer than ever before.

Jack took up the bass line and then the rest of the band joined in. Oswald came to the front of the stage and started singing. Emerald thought she heard her mum singing backing vocals. Even Julia and Angus Stone came out and joined in.

The music rose around them. Emerald imagined it shooting out from the stage and flooding back to all the people on earth. She wondered if they’d missed it? She knew she had. And now she had the guitar, she could enjoy the amazing feeling it gave her.

Until it was time to find the next custodian of The Wizard...

53


G u i t a rwizard

WABIAD 2017 Northern Beaches Writers’ Group

Thirteen-year-old Emerald O’Shea and her mother, Catherine, make a fun living wrangling their mostly tame lion, Nasla. But when Nasla

steals the spotlight for an ageing rock star’s final show, Emerald’s true calling is discovered. If she doesn’t accept the unwanted gift and leave her comfort zone, the soul of music, and humanity,

will disappear.

guitar wizard - writeabookinaday.com€¦ · guitar wizard wabiad 2017 nbwg team emily antonio leah...

Documents