a normal day.
On a longship, tranquility can never reach the S-45 group, initiating a war against the Zf33 gang. Each of the fights that arise may or may not have something to do with a recent annoyance, but their behavior is always the same: some slight, some old battle, a friend's death in the middle, another dead friend, an armed attack, and hatred cannot be more lasting than that of gangs, which always leads to greater extremes. These, without much concern, behave grumpily and initiate a war that may involve anyone, even other gangs.
Sam, the expert in knives and blades, with deep hatred, continued to ignore Billy's thoughts of forgetting the dog's brawl. But this one curiously was allied with Z33, a gang that ruled 33rd Street. For this reason, and due to ill-treatment, Sam couldn't wait to stab a few from Zf33 in the jugular, after all, he believed Billy and Connor would join him. Using a long, sewn wire and joined in numerous options, he bathed in fire, repeating the process over and over until obtaining a punch knife, sufficient to sink into soft flesh.
Sam found Ferrier, a black man, who had beaten up his brother, leaving him with an ugly scar on his face. In turn, he broke a leg and his friend couldn't walk properly without using a cane. With Billy and Connor's support, he called Jimmy; both ambushed Ferrier in the woodworking shops, giving him a severe beating. Sam wasn't satisfied until the tendons of his feet were crushed with his wire knife, and hammer, and hammer until they heard footsteps.
They fled; there were only two teenagers in the wrong place at the wrong time. There was no doubt; that each was terrified at the sight of the violent boy. They notified a guard believing death or something worse. It was a deep pity for our unfortunate S-45 members that Zf33 attacked faster than Sam thought, supported by another black gang that harbored hatred, with Karl who had been malicious to many members of said gang from 41st Street, they all hated S-45, anyone who wasn't white.
Unfortunately, this time it was Connor who received the beating, although already experienced in these types of fights, he managed to defend himself, four against one, which left him injured enough that he couldn't stand for a good while. The kicks on the ground came one after another, with the same severity with which they attacked Ferrier; this time, Billy, unaware of his basketball game, was only assisted in the dining room, about Connor's blow.
The next blow was dealt by James himself, Connor's brother, with the entire S-45 gang, they broke each other's arms here and there. They attacked with such reprisal that there was a curfew, and they kept them in the cells the next day, all day long, the kids leaned on the bars unable to leave, not even to go to the bathroom.
The guards used a quick camera service, and gathered the gangs, and ordered everything as quickly as it should be, although it seemed excessive, it was common in Arizona. What happened, happened; most of the S-45 members were placed under extreme surveillance, members of three other gangs equally, some sentences were extended, guilt was assigned, and of course, some were punished differently, personal items were confiscated, and what little they had ended up being seized.
All of this happened in five days, not much time for nearly a long revolt, which cost many beatings here and there.
-I still don't understand why you performed the stupidest action I've seen in all my years, even when I was arrested, I didn't commit such stupidity, - Billy said to Sam, in a whisper.
-Well, Ferrier left my brother lame; it was quick payback, " Sam whispered.
-They seized everything; you screwed us, Sam, now the blacks want to take over everything, - Billy said.
Sam was a lively boy, with big ears, he had a good boy's face, but he was exasperating, he sought fights quickly, insulted all those he considered weak, was offensive, and hated what he called the weak-hearted. However, he was loyal; if there was a fight, he was the first to support it, he didn't mind getting his hands dirty to help one of his own, he was a loyal man, very loyal.
-Well, we're starting from zero in twenty days. The leaders will return and be received as champions; everyone will fear S-45. If you're afraid, jump, and go to hell, - Sam said in a whisper.
-I'm not afraid, I'm just reasonable, - Billy said.
-That's fear in my language, - Sam said mischievously, very mischievously.
-The only fear I have is that you'll commit another stupidity. At least wait twenty days. If a conflict arises, gather the gang, but don't start one. It's better to save our fight for when we come back with more ranks, - Billy said.
-I can understand that, - Sam said, returning to his meal. Jimmy was just playing dumb, but his ears were present, listening to the whispers. Fred was a little further away, lost in his thoughts. Fred was a true giant at 180 pounds at fifteen, and he kept growing. He was so big that some hesitated to mess with him. He was Sam's friend, known in the neighborhood. He was a punk, but a punk who didn't like causing trouble, unlike Sam.
Billy finished eating, received Jimmy's oatmeal, and went for seconds. He ate as much as he could to continue his studies in history, English, and mathematics. His advisor mentioned that with his level of dedication, he would finish the ninth-grade curriculum in two months and could take other subjects and sit for the ninth-grade exam, advancing to the tenth grade, which he needed to do as soon as possible if he didn't want to fall behind. In prison at night, he only had time to study and sing, like an adult in a child's body. He knew the importance of maintaining a minimum study schedule.
He continued with the curriculum as much as he could, then took music lessons, and guitar, poorly taught by his advisor, who played the guitar and taught him chords and some extra notes to help him improve. He promised to bring him a music sheet.
-Good morning, teacher, I'll continue studying the copies diligently, - said Billy, taking the copies and the self-taught book of social sciences, gifted for his studies.
-Do it, don't slack off. You're one of the few who studies conscientiously, don't forget it. Your sentence will be reduced by a third if you score above 330 out of 500, according to your study time, it should be possible, - said the teacher, not very convinced that Billy would achieve a passing score of 330, on average, in all his subjects.
-There are always surprises, but I hope to pass the grade. My mother hopes I finish the course whether I finish it in prison or not. She wants her son to be someone with a general education, - said Billy.
-What all mothers would wish for their children, and she's not exempt from that small requirement. You'll finish the curriculum by the end of this year if it's of any help, -- said the teacher, remembering something else. -- But I can give you something extra that will help you, an English guide, grammar, spelling, and some activities to help you prepare for your exam. You can study at night; I hear there's nothing to do from six o'clock when the doors close. You can study until ten; some grammar wouldn't hurt. -
-Thank you, teacher, you're very kind, - said Billy.
-Will you practice music? - he asked.
"I will, I will, I want to keep practicing, I still have a lot to learn," said Billy.
The teacher smiled. - Come, I'll teach you a song I learned to play in my youth when I wanted to join a rock band in the '70s and '80s. If you didn't have a music band in your garage, you were out of fashion. Rock was breathed like the air in your lungs, - he said cheerfully.
There was no doubt, for a moment Billy dreamed of seeing those times where giants were present and were barely taking their first steps. He was never particularly fond of this music, however, he knew some songs that only the name was known in most corners of the world; some even still caught his attention. He knew their songs; when they played on the radio, he could surely hum along.
-I want that, teacher. I think the only thing I'm good at is music. Only when I play music, can I feel that my efforts are not in vain, and when I approach people who follow that fanaticism, - said Billy.
Taking note of every chant and note the teacher taught him, taking each lesson with all the strength he could muster, the guitar was much simpler than the piano, and his progress was even faster than the piano; now he could play some chords in a much smoother and sharper sequence. He kept playing, again and again.
Music requests came to him, just as his dedication to music came that same afternoon ten minutes before he left; a brain notification came to him like a Buddhist illumination; it reached the monks, wise men, or philosophers.
In minutes, the perspective of learning to play another instrument cheered him up, like the winter sun that shines, the worst seasons, and the heat in the worst climates, saving some from a devastating death.
Ding. Music needs a good guitar, a good guitar needs a great song for a music adventurer, a great guitarist who must always handle the highest standards, and a song from a superstar.
-Seven Nation Army - by The White Stripes.
The knowledge of a guitar with an iconic solo, a solo that made people jump in dance, a solo that made necks move, a jump solo that could make people remember forever and ever a musical band.
He played only what he could with his abilities as much as he could, but the solo was already shaping up for a great song; even his teacher-advisor lit up in front of the boy.
-You have talent, no doubt, - said the teacher, moved by the boy's talent.
Only his musical skills remained recorded.
Status. -
Billy Carson.
Singing: (39/40) Level 3: student.
Piano: (6/20) level 2. Novice.
Guitar: (1/10) level 2. Novice.
Rating: worldwide.
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Numbers: followers.
7
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