Max doesn’t look at Mason while he’s talking, but the second he’s done, he stands and walks to my purse, reaching in to pull out the iPad. “I’m going to take this to school,” he says, putting it in his backpack.
“Okay, but just for today,” I say, not really sure what Mason has planned, but hoping this works out.
Mason
I promised Avery I would text her the second I left Max’s class. She wanted to come, but she had to turn in her paper. I feel pretty good in Mrs. Bailey’s hands—I like Max’s teacher, and I think she’s on board with my crazy idea.
I’m standing in the hallway with my guitar at 8:55 a. m., and I can hear the sounds of chairs and desks scooting along the floor. I knock at her door, and hold my breath, hoping she hasn’t forgotten. When she opens it and smiles at me, I feel relieved. “Glad you could make it,” she says.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say, holding up the guitar and moving the strap over my neck and shoulder.
“Class, we have a special guest today. This is Max’s…” she looks at me quickly, squinting, and questioning what to call me. She knows I’m not his uncle.
“Friend,” I say. “I’m Max’s friend.”
The guitar always gets attention—women and kids fall for it every time, and it has Max’s entire class quiet and staring at me for what happens next. “Hi,” I say, my voice a little higher than normal from my nerves. I perform in front of people all the time, but for some reason, having a couple dozen five-year-olds bake me with attention has my pulse ticking up a notch.
“Does anyone in here play an instrument?” I ask, sitting on the edge of Mrs. Bailey’s desk, resting the guitar on my knee. A few kids raise their hands, and I ask them what instruments they play. Some say piano, and others make up instruments or don’t really answer with an instrument at all.
“Okay, does anyone in here write music,” I ask, knowing one kid will surely raise his hand. He has to. Max’s eyes are looking forward, and when I ask that question, I can actually see his pupils flex, and his hand shoots up instantly.
“Max, you write music?” Mrs. Bailey asks, herself a little surprised.
“Yes,” he says, his hand back down, and his attention once again somewhere not quite at me.
“That’s right. Max does write music. And actually, he has been writing a song on this really cool program on the iPad. I was hoping he could show everyone, because I’m not very good at it,” I say, looking at Mrs. Bailey for reinforcement.
“Max, do you have your iPad with you?” Mrs. Bailey asks. Max doesn’t say anything, but instead goes to his backpack along the wall and pulls out the iPad, bringing it to his desk. He flips it open, and starts working on the program at his desk, not really understanding that he should show it to the rest of the class. I’ve got to help him out here.
“Max, I don’t think the others in the class can see, and they’re new to that program like I am. Can you stand up front and show it once?” I ask, hoping I’m not pushing for too much. Max moves to the front of the class, and flips the iPad around holding it in front of him for a few brief seconds before turning it back so only he can see it. It makes me laugh inside, but I keep it to a smile.
“Can we show them how it works? I’d like to play something, and then maybe you can write it on the program?” I ask, waiting for Max to acknowledge me. He doesn’t, but he’s standing still, waiting with his finger in place, so I think he’s with me on this. I play a little bit of the song I’ve been working on, and I can see Max shake his head, probably because he already knows this song. He taps out a series of notes really quickly, and when he hits play on his iPad, the music I just played replays to perfection.
This is where Max suddenly leapfrogs over me and my cool guitar in the eyes of his classmates. A few kids actually say “Whoa,” and some near the front are standing, trying to get closer to see what Max is doing. Mrs. Bailey motions to them to stay in their seats, and she smiles at me, urging me to do it again.
“Okay, but you’ve heard that one before Max. Let’s try something different,” I say, and I can see his eyes immediately move to my hands, just like the first time he watched me play. I play a different song this time—one of my earlier ones that I used to play with Ray, and I let it go on for about thirty seconds, just to challenge him.
Max’s hand is fast at work when I am done. He puts all of the notes in place and sets the iPad to play as a piano, then sets it to begin. Not a single note is off—it’s amazing. I didn’t really do anything complex, but I know that if I had to write these songs on paper, it would take me several minutes, maybe even an hour, to get down what Max does in seconds.