For my boys. Rock on!
Adam Blue sits in his bean bag chair, kicked back, guitar in hand and strumming through a few new riffs on his guitar when the phone rings. He doesn’t look up from his hands and his fingers don’t fumble on the strings.
The phone rings again.
He hums under his breath along with the guitar. He doesn’t think this little ditty is destined to become a song but he’s been picking at it for the past hour now. He has nothing else to do.
The phone rings a third time. He’s just about to holler if anyone’s going to pick the damn thing up when it stops. Finally, he thinks, nodding his head with the rhythm he coaxes from the instrument in his hands. Two seconds later, his mom calls up the stairs. “Adam!”
He scowls and doesn’t answer.
“Adam!” she calls again.
“What?” he
