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It was kind of hard NOT to guess what it was, but Spencer's mum had still wrapped it all up, and his parents and sisters watched him tear the paper off each drum, stand and cymbal.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you," he said, when the last stand was unwrapped, and he'd opened his sisters’ present, which turned out to be drumsticks. He hugged his mum, and then his dad, who said "Your grandma has bought you drum lessons, so pretend to be surprised.”
"I have to go call Ryan, " Spencer said.
"It's 9am on Christmas morning," his mum said. "You'll sit down and watch the twins open their presents.
Spencer shifted and tapped his fingers on his thigh as the girls opened their presents slow on purpose.
"Hurry UP" he said, as Crystal smoothed the wrapping paper from her rollerblades into a rectangle.
"Don't shout at your sisters," Dad said.
"I need to find if Ryan got his guitar," Spencer said. "How are we supposed to be rock stars otherwise?"
"Like you'll be rock stars anyway," Jackie stuck her tongue out and Spencer totally regretted buying her that DVD.
"After breakfast," Ginger said.
Spencer had never eaten so quickly in his life, and he was still swallowing the last of his waffle when he dialled Ryan's number.
"Did you get it?!"
"Happy Christmas to you too," Ryan said.
"Ry..."
"Yes, I got it," Spencer could hear Ryan smile down the phone. "She's beautiful."
"She?" Spencer asked
"Yes, she. What, you haven't named your drums yet?"
“Kind of feels weird to name something I'm going to beat the crap out of”, Spencer said.
“LANGUAGE SPENCER,” his mum called from the kitchen.
“You should come over later.” Spencer said.
“Really?” Ryan tried to sound casual, but Spencer could hear the need. Christmas was pretty bad for Ryan, even with a new guitar.
“I'm pretty sure mum will pick you up on the way back from grandma's, “Spencer said. “You can bring your guitar over.”
It took Spencer promising to do the dishes for the next three days in the end, but they stopped off at. Ryan's and Spencer helped him put the amp in the back of the car. Ryan didn't let his guitar go, even to hug Spencer. Spencer was still trying to get used to Ryan being taller than him, and the neck of the guitar knocked into his shoulder.
“Garage, boys,” Ginger said. “And not too long.”
It took then nearly an hour to put the drum kit together, and Spencer just looked at it for a few minutes. It was so much better than the one in the music store, black and shiny with silver glitter panels on the toms.
“You actually going to hit anything?” Ryan asked sarcastically.
“Like you aren't going to sleep with that guitar that night,” Spencer shot back.
They didn't play well, Spencer would be the first to admit. Apparently one and a half guitar lessons and a passion for hitting things weren't enough to make you the next Green Day. Spencer had trouble co ordinating his hands and feet, and Ryan kept getting too close to the amp and producing squeals of feedback.
“We need to practice,” Spencer said after about an hour. His hands and shoulders were hurting, Ryan's fingers were bleeding.
“Right,” Ryan said. “Like, three times a week, at least.”
Spencer nodded.
“We'll get better,” he said, because Ryan looked crestfallen. He looked sad more and more often now, and Spencer didn't want to be the cause of that.
“Course we will,” Ryan nodded, “This is the start, you'll see.”
And looking at the determined set of Ryan's jaw, Spencer believed every word.