Kesha had a musical ear, that's me who wasn't lucky. I knew for sure that I was missing the spots, and I couldn't imagine how you can't miss them on a fingerboard with no frets. The guitar was much easier when I was a school student.

My mother entered the room with a glass in her hand.

– Sasha, is that you playing? I almost choked. Play in tune, – she hiccupped.

– I'm trying, mom, – I looked at her with sad eyes.

– Play me something you know.

I began playing my new roulade with pride. D, D, A, A, B, B, A. My mother stopped me.

– Who are you hoping to become? – She slurred her words. – There's no chance at all, that you'll be better than your dead brother. Do you want to play to my grandchildren? They'll get traumatized if they have such a father! – My mother laughed, then frowned again. – Sasha, do you want to be the best? You'll have to forget about food and sleep. I'll be honest with you – I can't imagine you on stage. And, anyway, it's time to go to bed.

– Mom, – I got cheerful, – I'm sure we'll find Kesha, and I'll compete with him.

– Are you going to sleep? – She spoke a bit louder.

– I am.

I left the case on the end table next to my bed. While falling asleep, I remembered about the open string sheet and got it out. Empty circles on stripes. G, D, A, E. While looking at these marks, I thought about just how difficult my path is going to be.

-

I had a dream about me being able to play well. Something happened in the end but I couldn't remember.

I saw Kesha's music theory notebook in the closet. I decided to look through it when I get home.

I learned open strings while eating breakfast. I dressed up and went to another class.

Iosif was late, so I began reading the book I always have with me. I jumped when he arrived. He ran into the dressing room, left a note in an unknown notebook and came to me.

– Hello, Kamnev. Let's go.

I had to rush after him. We got to the closed door which he opened with a key.

– Alexander, – he was cheerful, – do you know their names?

I understood him and shouted four notes in a row.

– Correct. Today's subject is first position. Can you guess what that means?

– First position? – I hoped to guess. – Iosif Seraphimovich, are you talking about politics?

That familiar thunder laughing wounded my ears again.

– I'm going to explode! Kamnev, get it out already, – he slammed my case with his hand. – Let's get into it now.

This time I learned that positions is when your left hand is placed onto different parts of the fingerboard. Iosif gave me first position notes and told me this position was the simplest one, then he showed me it by playing in it.

About twenty minutes have passed while I was busy with intonation I couldn't catch, and the angel came to me again, when time began to feel like an eternity. She played something bright and quick several times, not once, because Iosif corrected her. I listened to it for a while and it was time for me to leave.

She looked at me for a moment and grabbed her side with her hands.

– Ow, Iosif Seraphimovich, it seems my liver is out of order! Can I leave early?

– Are you kidding? We have just begun. – The teacher looked at the clock. – Alright, you can learn this tarantella at home. Will you be able to do so without me?

– I'll try! – She laughed and began putting her stuff into her case.

I decided to sit in the school hallway and read the first position sheet. I didn't notice it but I began thinking out loud.

– On the first string, you have a note called C, on the third one there's also a C. This C goes to another octave, an octave is two notes, the first one and the eighth one, and because there are only seven notes, they always repeat themselves.