Read Streetlights Like Fireworks for Free Online Page B

I never forgot. Can
you maybe think why?”
    I try to remember and nothing comes at first, but then it
hits me. I included Anthony in the background alongside the teachers. It seems
strange that he’d been “Old Anthony” even then—the stranger part being he looks
basically the same ten years later. But I can see it now, how I drew him with
his gray curly hair, thick black eyebrows and big smile. No wonder he seems to
like me.
    “I think I might remember why,” I say.
    “So, you remember!” Anthony’s smile broadens even more.
“Yeah, that was my favorite. So, what can I do for you two?”
    “Well, we kind of wanted to talk to you about your
Telecaster.”
    Anthony’s brow furrows. “Tele-what?”
    Right there, I know he can’t be a musician. You never
know, of course, but that felt off to begin with. Still, I push on. “The guitar
you traded in at Edmonds Music. I own it now. Traded for it, really, not that
it matters. Anyway, I was just—”
    Anthony shakes his head. “Sorry, what are you talking
about?”
    “An electric guitar,” I say. “Listen, maybe I got
something wrong.”
    His smile fades. “Oh, that thing. Sure. Look, if there’s
something wrong with it, I don’t want to hear about it. I was just getting rid
of it. I traded it in and got a new flute for my granddaughter.”
    “How old is your granddaughter?” I can’t resist shooting
Lauren a look. She narrows her eyes back at me.
    “She’s ten, just last week. Little sweetheart. Anyway,
like I said, if there’s some sort of problem with the guitar, I can’t help
you.”
    “The guitar’s fine,” I say. “I was just wondering if you
might know where it came from.”
    A few seconds pass before he says, “You don’t want to go
there. Not if there’s a problem. Or for anything else. Just take it back to the
music store.”
    “No, really,” I say. “It’s nothing like that.” I think
for a moment, then take inspiration from Lauren’s performance with Mrs. Evans.
“It’s just this superstitious musician thing, that you should know the history
of an instrument. It’s supposed to bring you luck. That’s all. No big deal.”
    “Never heard of that before,” Anthony says. “You’re being
straight with me, right?”
    “Absolutely.”
    Still, he waits before speaking. “It belonged to my
youngest. Victor.”
    The way he says it, I wonder if something bad happened.
Thankfully, I don’t have to ask.
    “He borrowed money from me without paying me back. Like
always. Told me he couldn’t come up with it even when I told him I needed it to
pay my bills. What do you think he does?”
    Anthony waits for me to answer. “I don’t know,” I admit.
    “He gives me that stupid guitar and tells me I should
sell it. Can you believe that?”
    Again, the pause. “No?”
    “Right, neither could I! Why doesn’t he sell it
and give me the money, right?”
    This time I don’t wait. “Right, exactly.”
    Anthony points at my face. “That’s what I told him! Then
he tells me he doesn’t have the time. He sure had enough time to bother me for
money when he needed it, didn’t he?”
    “Yeah, I guess so.”
    “You better believe he had enough time for that!” Anthony
shakes his head in disgust and, thankfully, stops pointing at my face. “You
raise a boy and you’d think he’d be responsible enough to get his life
together. Not Victor. In and out of trouble for as long as I can remember.
Breaks my heart, but I’m done with him.”
    I have no idea what to say but this time Anthony doesn’t
wait for me to react.
    “He can just stay on devil hill for the rest of his life
if it suits him. As long as he doesn’t come along bothering me for money
anymore.”
    I wait to be sure there isn’t more coming, then say, “I’m
sorry, Mr. Delvechio. I hope things work out.”
    “Yeah, me too. Listen, sorry about all that. Like I
should be telling you about my problems. Glad to hear you like the guitar.”
    “I do,” I say. “It was