AMERICAN IDIOT

Ben giggled devilishly before stopping and suddenly feigning a serious face. 

"Dude, I thought you said you were going to perform... so I just assumed you meant to people." 

Ben's answer was sarcastic but matched the ridiculous nature of Abel's question. The app's instructions were clear—the place had to be open to the public, and this fit the bill perfectly... except now, Abel was fully beginning to realize the difficulty of the task.

He stared around, feeling his heart drum madly in his chest. Throngs of people shuffled by, each rushing to only God knows where. And in front of him, in the waiting area, lines and lines of seats stretched out, nearly thirty people seated, each displaying a variety of different emotions. Some looked agitated, as if they were quite uncomfortable where they were. They kept shuffling in their seats, scanning their tickets, or checking their ever-present luggage. Abel figured these were first-time travelers in or from the city. Looking at their faces, Abel thought that pleasing these ones was a long shot. At least the more seasoned travelers offered him a little bit of hope. Most were in groups, or perhaps a mom with a kid or kids. Most of these were either munching on snacks or calmly chatting with each other. Though some were scrolling through their phones, generally looking for something to occupy the time.

"I could do that," Abel thought to himself. If killing time was what they needed, why not? With this in mind, he somehow felt the tension ease a little.

Ben had apparently plugged the amp in. Abel reached for the other end and plugged in the guitar. All these movements seemed to occur subconsciously because his thoughts were in a world of their own. They were scrolling through an array of songs whose lyrics he knew and which didn't necessarily need a pro guitarist or an array of instruments to sound good. What came to mind was his typical playlist...

Slinging the guitar around his neck, Abel reached out and strummed the strings just to test if they were tuned. The melody of the chords rang through the space, and Abel actually flinched at the sudden sound. He wasn't the only one—almost all the heads in the near vicinity turned towards him. Abel rushed to readjust the sound from the amp. He hadn't expected it to be almost full, but since he had not adjusted the volume after his last practice, well, he had kind of picked up where he left off. Now everyone had realized there was a musician in the room, and their eyes were expectant—not out of deep interest, but just curiosity about the unknown. "Wait until they realize it's just another wannabe," he thought.

Taking a deep breath, Abel relaxed his mind. Since he was quite certain his voice would fail him if he started singing right away, he chose to just strum some chords for a while. That's exactly what he did.

For the next few minutes, the entire subway was subjected to the random rings of a variety of beginner chords. Well, they weren't that horrible if it was a toddler with the guitar, but since they were being played aimlessly, the music lacked any harmony—that is, if it could even pass for music at all. Slowly, even the faces that had anticipated some sort of entertainment from the stranger began to turn away. "Nah, it's better to find some asshole blogger to kill their time rather than this," some thought, even cringing when Abel missed a chord and resorted to a totally tuneless strum.

"Dude, you are killing it," Ben said in a clearly dishonest tone.

Great! He was totally killing it... literally diminishing his chances with every strum. At this rate, today's mission would be a nightmare, to say the least. All the while, Abel refused to make eye contact with anyone. He couldn't even if he tried; he preferred that dark nothingness inside him, otherwise, even standing here alone was causing him untold misery. He could, however, see both Ben and Hilsa from the corner of his eye, trying to move to the unmovable rhythm. He was aware that the only reason they were here was just because of their friendship.

And where was his mother? Why had she not shown up yet? Abel thought as he braved through the torture. She should be here—she was the only one who had heard him play. But maybe it was also a good thing... knowing her, she would probably be cheering and clapping wildly while torturing everyone else.

When he dared to look up, though, Abel was surprised to see that the situation was not the way he expected. He wasn't alone. Surprisingly, Abel smiled at this... his activity had apparently attracted several kids who were jumping and swinging carefree to whatever the hell he was playing. Their parents' attention was also drawn as they laughed or watched the kids play. It wasn't anything fancy, and there was no appreciation of what he was doing, but it was a start.

Abel's strumming slowed. Now that he had mustered the courage to watch the crowd, he slowly felt his thoughts begin to settle. Somehow, just the carefree jumping of the kids was slowly pumping him with adrenaline. Yeah... why the hell should he care? Where the hell would they take him?

The tempo began to rise as his fingers started to play the chords, this time with an accuracy that befitted his average skills. Slowly, the tune shifted from just random chords, and before Abel even knew it, his mind was guiding him to a song he had been humming in his head.

Abel wasn't surprised. *American Idiot* by Green Day was a tune he'd been thinking about for a while—mostly because he felt like the idiot in the song. But now, those melodies were extending to his fingers, each chord falling into place with a rhythm that felt oddly natural. The familiar punk energy of the song began to fill the space, and for the first time since he'd started playing, Abel felt a surge of confidence.