3 months and two weeks.
The dealings in the correctional facility had changed for better or for worse some time ago. The waters had been stirred by the relentless struggle for contraband in the facility, even if it was of minimal quantity and minor aspects. For these kids, it was a serious task, almost laughable that a child could be involved in something so futile.
But again, everything is futile in the eyes of the critics. Yet, for these kids, it is life. Every inch they fight has a purpose in their minds.
-Damn it, you have to talk to Buggs; this silent war can't go on like this. – Austin growled. For such a small body, the hatred he held for everyone was alarming, but beyond that, he was afraid of being beaten and losing face in front of those who followed him, who were not much different.
-I think you should let the war continue its course. – Thomas F. said.
-I don't think it's very advisable. – said Thomas's twin brother.
-Obviously, it's not. The promise of a transfer to an even worse correctional facility is bad. Here we are big fish, but we swim in a small pond. My father went to prison in California and cryptically mentioned that there are very dangerous people, but there are places even he would hesitate to get into. – Austin said.
-Then let's bury the hatchet in the new one. It's high time to integrate that kid who arrived three months ago; some good beatings will make him decide which side he's on. – Thomas D. said.
Austin strutted, and an idea illuminated his mind. Like two stars in the sky, the idea that crossed his mind would bring good relations with some people who would provide apparent solutions.
-Yes, what a great idea, send regards to Dog Face. – Austin said, looking at the seven little kids, their young and tender faces. – Andrew, take care of planting the mole seeds; our little friend will suffer a beating. We'll see how he breaks and cries like a baby.
-That's easy, but I need help. The rooms are monitored, and entering a room that's not mine would raise suspicions. – Andrew said.
-Too bad he lives in the new corridor with the newcomers. About 20 people entered in the last five months. – Benson said.
-Just give it a try. – Austin said, desperate for Andrew and Benson's objections.
-Calm down; they'll carry 100 grams of marijuana, enough to trigger a lockdown and implement search measures throughout the prison. If you act hastily, the plan will backfire with Buggs and Dog Face on us. – Thomas, the quiet twin, said. Thomas A. is a vengeful and resentful character.
-I don't see what's so difficult about it. – Austin said. He didn't like admitting he was wrong; it made him weak. – If you can't, we can think of other things, simple as that.
Austin walked through the living room, an old and depressed hall, formerly an arts hall that ended up being abandoned, near the classrooms. They spoke softly because guards made rounds now and then, and they only used it to pass the time. Nothing was as dangerous as the second floor, which was constantly visited by teachers.
Austin glanced at the hallway, and it was deserted, as deserted as it could be at this hour. Everyone was focused on sports, music, or art classes. Some were even doing certain heavy tasks to earn points in the prison, like washing clothes, hanging them, washing dishes, or serving in the administrative offices.
-Everyone knows this damn correctional facility has a system. We make some deals to gain privileges, and those privileges, in turn, help the gang settle. If we act bravely, it won't be long before we have better luxuries, get basketball magazines, cigarettes, and if possible, some candy. – Austin said.
Everyone fell silent, knowing how troublesome this guy was.
**************************************************************Principio del formulario
On the third floor, in the music room, Spencer continued working hard to understand the piece; he hadn't quite warmed up to the guitar composition. What else could he do but repeat and repeat? He used soft tonalities, intertwined with fast chords, sustain, some with pull-offs—a technique playing a high note without letting the sound escape, playing a low one—complicated, not so much, but something unseen for a novice.
The sound of the piano reached his ears, and his eyes were amazed at the skill of the young boy with the music. The music teacher raised his head as if this added more concentration. He was focused on his guitar, forgetting that he was teaching these three kids. Interestingly, Pablo was there, something that never happened; he had never been there more than for a class. He looked up and down the room and then tried to produce some effects on the small drum given by Spencer at the beginning of the class.
Billy played the melody of "La Donna Inmovile"[1] with ease. His fingers danced on the piano as if it were a practice he had been accustomed to for many years. Two months had passed, and the little troublemaker already mastered a song, not very complex for the piano but of intermediate difficulty.
Spencer made a face upon hearing Billy's stumble, a discordant hit of keys, poorly played, but he continued.
The boy stopped and began to sing as if it were something he would do after chatting with friends, as simple as breathing. Spencer's open mouth was just an indication of what the 14-year-old boy was doing, even if it wasn't perfect, and he sang it softer and not as extended and loud as Pavarotti's CD, which he had brought to teach him. He did it so wonderfully.
Even Pablo, the little mouse who couldn't stay still for a minute, stopped and listened to the soft melody, with some amazement, with some surprise at the gentle melody. Connor set his drum aside and started to listen to the soft melody.
…
La donna e mobile.
-La donna è mobile
qual piuma al vento
muta d'accento
e di pensiero.
Sempre un amabile
leggiadro viso,
in pianto o in riso
è menzognero.
La donna è mobile
qual piuma al vento
muta d'accento
e di pensier'.
È sempre misero
chi a lei s'affida,
chi le confida
mal cauto il core!
Pur mai non sentesi
felice appieno
chi su quel seno
non liba amore!
La donna è mobile;
qual piuma al vento
muta d'accento
e di pensier'.
…
It ended as quickly as it began.
-Bravo, bravo! Magnificent! Impressive. – Spencer said, raising his hands and applauding as if it were something majestic.
Connor nodded and continued playing the drums. With great care. With the delicate delivery that he did every day, with repetition and work noting every song.
-My goodness, that was surprising. – Spencer said more calmly, approaching Billy. – Boy, come on, I'll help you polish the song. If you focus your work on the hand play and refine some vocal notes, it will be a spectacle to see you. – he said.
-Thank you, maestro. I'll do everything in my power to keep improving. – Billy said.
Spencer took a seat in a small chair, pointing out all the mistakes made throughout his performance, from some tuning issues to how to play some notes more easily while playing the piano.
-Of course, boy. One of the big problems is that you don't know how to differentiate between musical notes. You must understand that a high note is not sung the same way as a low note. Pay attention to your singing; you're imprinting a different song because you change some tempos in your tone. You even inadvertently reduce the time on the piano, but you must be careful. Tomorrow we will have ear training. – Spencer said.
-Ear training? – Billy asked.
-Yes, it's a training commonly used in some people to help them identify notes, scales, or melodies. Tomorrow, we'll have basic training, and we'll do exercises for 15 minutes. For now, focus on the song. – Spencer said.
Billy nodded but was lost in his mind about the song and how he was playing it.
[1] The song is on YouTube; search for "La donna e mobile" piano instrumental. It's one of the best songs, sung by Pavarotti and Andrea Bocelli, but, in general, it's characteristic of opera. For a singer, it's demanding to the point that only a few can sing it well, a true masterpiece. It's worth listening to once in a lifetime; then, time will prove it's a great song.
....