Page 49 of Mr. B

“What did he do?”

“That’s a story for another time and probably another audience. I don’t want to plant any ideas in your head. So let’s move on and play some music. What do you say?” The kids cheered and whistled as he picked up his guitar and returned to the fire. “Who’s going to join me up here?”

A girl with a mandolin and two boys with guitars joined Wes. They played several songs they all knew, then started taking requests. For any given song, at least one of them knew the melody, and the others picked up what they could and joined in. Wes knew many of the songs from his years at camp. It seemed that when a group of kids gathered around a campfire, the song requests were pretty standard. It was always a mix of pop ballads and classic rock songs.

When they finally took a break, Wes sat down next to Cassandra and took a drink from the water bottle she handed him.

“Very impressive, Mr. B. Definitely not Kumbaya.”

“That was fun.”

“I can see why these kids love you. My principal wasn’t nearly this cool. Or cool at all.”

“That’s because you were in the big city.”

“I don’t think that’s why.”

“I’m just that cool?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm. Well, they say music soothes the savage beast. In this case though, it’s raging hormones, uncontrollable emotions, and immaturity.”

“I realize now, perhaps I’ve been approaching my teen patients all wrong. I should’ve just sung to them.”

“It could’ve helped.” Wes turned to her. “Are you ready to tell me why you took a break from your practice?”

She looked around at the kids. “Not here.”

“But somewhere?”

“Maybe when we get back to the real world. Right now, I just want to enjoy Camp Blueberry.”

Bailey came up to them. “That was so cool.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Now I really want to learn to play the guitar. Or the mandolin. That was awesome, too.”

Cassandra smiled. “Anything you want, honey. I’m sure Mr. B. can point you toward a good teacher.”

“So you’ll buy me a guitar and a mandolin?”

“Um…let’s go with one or the other to start.”

Bailey thought for a moment. “Guitar.”

“I’ll look into it when I get back.”

Bailey hugged her. “Thanks, Mom.”

She ran off, and Cassandra turned to Wes. “I don’t know anything about guitars.”

“I can help you with that.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Your daughter is a musical prodigy. You need to nurture that.”