Rick at the talent show

His name was Rick, a big dude, over six feet tall. He could have been a football player but he was round and slumped where he should have been square and straight. He didn't like contact sports. I think I might have seen him flinch once when he bumped into someone in a PE class. He wore one of those big bulky sheep herder corduroy jackets. I think I remember him from junior high school; very quiet but observant. He was one of those invisible guys. Probably had two friends more quiet than he was. He was probably really good at something. Bridge or making things out of Popular Mechanics. I wouldn't have guessed that he played guitar or was impressed with the Beatles, but I was happy that he did and was when he started strumming "Here Comes the Sun," on stage at a talent assembly. It took stones to enter a talent contest and stand up onstage with no one else when you were an unknown in high school. I admired the guy. I was pulling for him all the way. He could play but his acoustic guitar wasn't miked. And he was scared and he couldn't cover the fear when he sang. His voice was soft, wavy and uncertain. He hit several sour notes before he got out of the first verse. The crowd started talking. It was painful for him. He went pale in the face and stepped back from the mike and his voice became nearly inaudible. Then his voice cracked and people were laughing. I was afraid for a moment he might stopped or cry but his grimaced and stepped to the mike and seemed determined but sounded no better. Now the audience felt obliged to be as rude as possible. Someone shouted something and someone else laughed in response. Another person wolf whistled and it could only be taken as sarcasm; the subject of the whistle was an overweight, pimply unknown. He finished the song, turned to his right and began the long walk off stage. I thought it was the gutsiest act I had ever seen. The audience was either booing or laughing or talking. I wasn't secure enough to give him the round of applause he deserved. Everybody loved the Beatles but not everybody could play their songs on the guitar and not every guitar playing kid had it in him to get up in front of the entire student body and play, but Rick did. I don't care bad it was. Just before he got to the wings, just before he vanished in ignominy he flipped us all off. It seemed as though in that moment nothing moved but his fingers and his left hand. The crowd got louder but I didn't care. Rick had won the contest.