Totally Unrelated (6 page)

“I've got to hand it to you, Neil,” says Bert, once Sandy has wrangled Beast and her guitar up the stairs. “She is exactly what this band has been looking for.”

Nine

The Family McClintock has never been busier. Dad has us rehearsing like crazy for the Vince Beach show, and we're also getting plenty of other bookings. Some days we wake up, eat a big breakfast and then head to the garage to rehearse before getting in the bus and driving several hours to a show, only to crawl into bed exhausted at the end of a long day and then wake up and do it all over again.

Somehow I manage to find time to practice with Sandy and Bert, squeezing in an hour or two here and there on days when we don't have performances scheduled. I especially look forward to Thursdays, which I'm able to spend entirely in Bert's basement. Beast is usually around for our practices, too, and has kind of become our unofficial mascot.

Now that “Pass the Test” is pretty tight, we start to play some cover tunes, mostly for fun but also because Sandy makes the good point that we should have an encore ready in case we win the talent show. Soon we have a solid repertoire of three songs: one original and two covers.

The funny thing is, the more I get to work on the stuff I like with Sandy and Bert, the more my guitar playing seems to improve when I'm onstage with my family. My parents notice too.

“You were on fire tonight, Neil,” my mom says one night. We're on the highway, coming home from a traditional music festival in New Brunswick.

“I just played my parts,” I say.

“No, your mother's right,” says Dad. “You've obviously been getting in some extra practices, and it's paying off. Good job.”

I shrug, although I have to admit it's nice to hear them say that. During our performance today, I actually
felt
the music as I was playing it, instead of just going through the motions. Maybe it's possible for me to have my own thing going on and keep being a useful part of the Family McClintock. I still don't exactly love the music, but for some reason I've actually started to like playing it, more than I ever have before. It's a lot easier to be good at something that you enjoy.

It's also true that I've been practicing like crazy. Whenever I have a free second, I'm off in a corner somewhere with my guitar, working through my family pieces so they sound tight, messing around with the songs I'm playing with Sandy and Bert and even coming up with some new stuff of my own.

All the playing and practicing is starting to pay off. I really feel like I'm playing the best guitar of my life.

“Wow, Neil,” says Bert one afternoon after I've pounded my way through our set. “You're going to show us up!”

“No way,” I say. “We all sound awesome.”

“Well, you sound extra awesome,” he says. “Don't even try to deny it.”

Sandy pushes some magazines and food wrappers out of the way and flops onto the couch. After the first couple of practice sessions, Bert gave up trying to keep the basement clean. Sandy doesn't seem to mind, and Beast is in his element.

“There's something missing,” she says.

Bert and I turn to look at her.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“I mean with ‘Pass the Test,'” she says. “It's good, but it just sounds a bit…I don't know, not quite enough or something.”

“I think I know what you mean,” says Bert. “It needs some more
oomph
.”

“
Oomph
?” I say. “What kind of
oomph
? The show is in six days. It's a little bit late to look for another musician.”

“Not another musician,” says Sandy. She jumps up from the couch and grabs her guitar. “Okay, listen, Neil. Remember when you asked me to try practicing with you guys? Well, I have an idea, and I want you to repay the favor and give it a shot, even if you really don't want to.”

“Okay,” I say, getting suspicious.

“I've been singing the lyrics to myself over and over,” she says. “I think it would sound better if there were two singers on the chorus. I'll keep singing lead the way I have been, but you come in on the chorus and do harmonies.”

“But I can't sing,” I protest.

“Don't give us that,” says Bert. “We've both heard you.”

Sandy starts strumming the chords on her guitar. “So when I sing this,” she says, and she sings the first two lines of the chorus, “you sing it this way.” She repeats the same two lines as harmony lines.

“I don't know,” I say.

“Please, just try it,” she says. “I helped you out, remember?”

“Fine,” I say. “But if it sucks, I'm not doing it again.”

“Fair enough,” she says. “But you have to try for real.”

I nod and reach for my guitar, but she holds out her hand to stop me. “Let's start simple,” she says. “I'll run it through for us, nice and slow.”

She starts playing, and once she gets past the intro, we both start singing. I'd expected it to be horrible, that I'd screw up the tune right away. Instead, I find that I'm able to sing a harmony line naturally, all the way through. The melody guides me, and I just do my best to sing along in a way that complements Sandy's voice.

We come to the end and Bert immediately starts clapping. “Awesome!” he says.

“Really?” I ask them.

“Sounded great,” says Sandy.

“What did you think, Beast?” I ask, turning toward the couch, but he's in the process of killing a ninja and doesn't pay any attention to me.

“The real question is, what did you think?” says Sandy.

“It was okay,” I say. She raises an eyebrow at me. “Okay, I admit it. It sounds better. We should do it with harmonies.”

“Well, we better start practicing the new version,” says Bert. “It's not like we've got much time left.”

Ten

The
Welcome to Deep Cove
sign on the outskirts of town claims that we are home to eighteen hundred people, but Gran always says our true population is many times larger than that. During Deep Cove Days it definitely feels that way, as people who were born and raised here make the trek home from Ontario, Alberta and even farther afield. Many of them have been gone for a long time and have raised families and made lives for themselves elsewhere, but they still flock home in droves every year at the end of July to hang out with family and old friends.

Things always kick off with a parade on Monday morning. Shamus and Johnny will be marching with the Scottish Pipes and Drums band, so Mom and Dad cancel morning rehearsal, even though we're scheduled to play in the park in the evening.

I meet up with Sandy and Bert downtown, and we push through the crowds gathering on Main Street until we find a place to stand and watch the parade. It takes awhile because I keep running into people I know, and everyone wants to tell me how cool it is that we're going to be playing with Vince Beach.

“Jeez, Neil,” says Bert. “You're an even bigger celebrity than usual.”

“Whatever,” I say, although I'm secretly pleased that Sandy is here to see me getting the attention. I know it's kind of conceited, but I can't help it.

People cheer as the parade approaches, led by the Pipes and Drums.

“I can't believe your brothers wear kilts for this!” says Bert as they walk past us.

“That's how it works,” I say. I've made fun of them for that too in the past, but as they march by us, I feel a flush of pride. The music even sends a little chill up my spine when I remember that this is how my ancestors would have marched off to war.

As the first of the floats glides by, Bert shoves his way to the front of the crowd to compete with the little kids for the candy being thrown down to the street.

“You know,” says Sandy, “I was so worried about coming here for the summer. I thought it would be super boring, hanging out with my grandmother and Bailey. I'm so happy that I met you guys.”

“Yeah,” I say. “It's cool.” I really have to work on my vocabulary.

“I can't believe I'm going to sing in front of an audience,” she goes on. “It's something I've always kind of wanted to do.” She gives me a playful shove. “I guess I just needed to run into a professional musician to make it happen.”

“Well, it was pretty much Bert's idea,” I say. “I mean, the talent-show thing was his idea. You were my idea. I mean, your singing with us was my idea.”

She laughs. “I know what you mean. Anyway, I'm really happy you asked.”

I have trouble focusing on the rest of the parade. Floats and clowns and costumed kids on bicycles pass by us, but I keep looking out of the corner of my eye at Sandy. She stands next to me, clapping and cheering with the rest of the crowd, and I feel all light and goofy knowing that she actually wants to hang out with me.

When the last of the parade has gone by, the crowd dissipates and Bert comes back over to us, his hands full of candy.

“Check out this haul!” he says, shoving a Tootsie Roll into his mouth.

Sandy's phone buzzes, and she pulls it out of her pocket. “I gotta go,” she says. “I have to meet Grandma and Beast for lunch. We're coming to your show tonight—see you there?”

“For sure,” I tell her. “We should practice tomorrow too.”

“Sounds awesome,” she says. “I'm getting so excited! Can you believe it's happening in just three days?”

“I know,” I say. “It's pretty crazy.”

“Crazy awesome,” says Bert. “We're gonna be rock stars!”

Sandy walks away down the sidewalk, turning to wave at us one last time.

“You gonna make a move on her or what?” Bert asks.

“I dunno,” I say.

“Well, you're an idiot if you don't,” he says. “I'm pretty sure she likes you.”

“Really?”

“Well, she doesn't like me,” he says. “And the only explanation for that is that she's already into someone else. Judging from the way she looks at you when we're playing, I'd say it's a safe bet.”

I wonder what I'm supposed to do, or say, to find out if he's right. All I know is that it probably makes sense to wait and see what happens at the talent show.

“Man,” says Bert. “I'd kill to be able to play guitar as good as you. Chicks love a guitar player. Stupid drums.”

* * *

Since the first year we started performing, the Family McClintock has put on a show in the park during Deep Cove Days. We usually get a decent crowd, but this year the park is jam-packed.

“This is nuts,” Shamus says to me as we're setting up the sound system on the makeshift plywood stage. “I can't believe how many people are here!”

“I know,” I say. “You think they're really here just to see us?”

“Neil!” my father calls from behind the stage, where he and Mom are working out a set list.

I jump off the stage and walk over to them. “What's up?”

“Your mother and I have been talking,” he says. “We both agree that you deserve some credit for all the extra practice you've been putting in.”

“It hasn't gone unnoticed, Neil,” Mom says. “You've been playing better than ever these past few weeks.”

“Cool,” I say. “Thanks.”

“Question for you,” says Dad. “Remember when you showed me that little riff you worked out for ‘Off to the Dance'? You think you can still play it?”

“For sure,” I say.

“Okay, good,” he says. “I'll fill everyone in before we go onstage, but it should be pretty straightforward. We're just going to add four bars near the beginning, after Shamus comes in, and then you do your thing, and then Mom will come in the way she always does. Sound good?”

“Totally,” I say. “Thanks.”

Mom reaches out and pulls me in for a hug. “You're a big part of this team, Neil,” she says. “You've definitely earned some spotlight of your own.”

Before we go on, we huddle backstage and Dad quickly runs through the set list, taking a minute to explain the changes to “Off to the Dance.” Then we climb onstage in the usual order. Mom and Dad go on first, followed by the twins, then Shamus and Kathy and finally me and Johnny. We all grab our instruments and take our places as the crowd gives us an enthusiastic welcome, full of hoots and hollers. Dad steps up to the mic.

“Welcome home!” he yells. Everyone cheers in response. “This is always our favorite concert of the year, and it's a great honor and a lot of fun to help kick off Deep Cove Days. So we hope you enjoy the show, and if you feel like dancing, you're in the right place!”

Things go off without a hitch. We start with “Off to the Dance,” and when it's time for my new part, I step to the front of the stage and give it everything I've got, riffing and picking as quickly and energetically as I can. It's over in seconds, but when I'm finished and take a couple of steps back, the crowd cheers and claps for me. I'm used to hearing the crowd break out in applause when the twins dance, or Kathy sings, or Shamus, Johnny, Mom and Dad do their solos, but it's the first time I've heard applause directed straight at me. It feels awesome. I glance at Kathy, who winks at me and gives me a subtle thumbs-up.

The rest of the show is a doozy. I've got adrenaline coursing through my veins, and the rest of my family is obviously having as much fun as I am. When the girls are dancing, it's like they're floating on air. When Mom and Dad do a piano and fiddle duet, the music sounds pure and perfect. Even Johnny's pipes seem to have a mind of their own, blasting out confidently whenever they're needed.

Best of all is the audience. People are soaking us up, shouting and clapping and dancing in circles with each other. They scream so much at the end of the show that we give them three encores, the last songs of the night coinciding with a beautiful sunset. It's like something out of a movie. I glance down at one point and spot Sandy and her family near the front of the stage. She throws both her hands up and waves at me excitedly, as if she's been watching me this whole time, waiting for me to see her.