Gym was never his favourite class, so Adam wasn't terribly sad to see it go.  Seniors had little quota to meet when it came to “real” classes, so he was given a list of electives to choose from.  In the end, Music Room was most appealing, so he chose that.  After his romp with Scott and his unfortunate balls, he wasn't too eager to stick around until the last bell, when groupies like him tended to make the inevitable prowl to kick his ass after school.  He skipped the rest of the day, entirely uninterested in regaining his notebook.  Secretly, he was hoping Sasha would read some of his lyrics.  She would hear them eventually, anyway.<br/><br/>He rolled lazily around the modern end of town, gazing into the windows of shops selling things he couldn't afford.  There was a shopfront with televisions on display, and he paused a moment to admire Bono's shameless dovetailing of “With or Without You.”  Across the block was his favourite record store, Cat Scratch.  They were the only place that always had those hair bands on their racks, like Autograph and Rage.  He was tired of Purple Rain.  Though he didn't own many tapes, the ones he did, he treasured.  Each had come from here, along with a collection of posters given to him by the manager- whom was equally awesome.<br/><br/>Adam slowed, dumbstruck, when he saw the sign on the door explaining they were closing the store.  The bell over the door chimed when he entered, attracting the attention of the clerk.<br/><br/>“Closing?!” he asked incredulously.  The clerk gave him an apologetic look as the manager lumbered out of the stockroom.<br/><br/>“Afraid so, son.  Just not enough business these days.  A competing store just opened across town, and ever since, I haven't made enough profit to pay for the upkeep,” the manager explained, “Come on back, kiddo, I've got something you might like.”<br/><br/>Adam followed the man into the cluttered storeroom.  It was tiny, but it seemed that not a lot of room was needed what with all the empty sales racks.  It was disheartening to see.  The manager indicated a large box near the back of the room, opening up the flaps to reveal a DASH machine.<br/><br/>“I know you play,” he explained as Adam revered the piece of recording technology, “It's a bit dusty, but it works.  You'll just have to buy the tapes.”<br/><br/>“Are you serious?”<br/><br/>“I can't sell it.  It's outdated technology, most studios aren't using this model anymore.  I acquired this one from a pal in the industry, but I don't have any use for the thing.”<br/><br/>“I don't know what to say,” Adam returned, still in awe.  He wanted for Buckshot to be heard, but he figured that could only be achieved by playing while a hotshot record label drove through town and happened to hear them.  This?  He could mail recordings out, maybe get someone to actually listen.  His mind was blown.<br/><br/>“Don't have to say anything, son,” the man smiled, his mustache curving into a bow shape on his lip, “Who knows, maybe when you make it big, you'll think of me, eh?” He released a hearty laugh.  Adam smiled.  It was time to transform Peter's garage into a real studio.<br/><br/>-x-x-x-<br/><br/>“Look, I know this is rad and all, but my friend you have<span style="font-style: italic">no clue</span>what you are doing.”<br/><br/>“I'll figure it out,” Adam hushed him, too excited to worry about technicalities such as how to actually operate this thing.  Peter put his feet up on the back of the red sofa in the garage, munching on Chee-tos while he watched Adam fiddle with the dozens of switches and buttons on the console.<br/><br/>“Sasha gonna show up?”<br/><br/>“Maybe not,” Adam frowned, “I think Scott broke her wrist.  I wouldn't blame her for staying home.”<br/><br/>“What a piece of shit.  Didn't get your notebook back?”<br/><br/>“Nope.”<br/><br/>“It's gonna come back with glitter and puffy Barbie stickers,” Peter wailed, “We should burn it.”<br/><br/>“Just because Dani got her hands on your textbooks last year doesn't mean all girls like to vandalise things with cute stickers.”<br/><br/>“Famous last words...” Peter mumbled between a mouthful of his cheese puffs.