It all started back in high school. They call it the rebirth year. You can change who you are. That’s exactly what I did. I knew I was bigger than this school, with the same face walking down the hallway. I felt isolated amongst their cold, hard stares. I needed a break. My parents didn’t believe me though.
“You just need to stop being so weird.”

“Making friends isn’t hard when you actually try.”

The same advice was rolling over and over in my head. I thought that they were right, but now I realize that mistake. You can’t make friends with the same person twice.

That’s why I started playing bass. I needed a grounding. Something that would help me bond with people I clicked with. Walks of life that are so different yet so similar to mine. Playing my bass helped me realize what I wanted to do. I didn’t wanna be a lawyer or some stupid doctor, I wanted to play in a band. I want to support a melody with my bass.

And that’s when I stopped caring. I stopped caring about everything that annoyed me. I found true happiness in the fact that I could stand out from them. Make it out of this small country town. 

One day, I was walking home from school. I was a bit tired, my eyes stinging from a lack of sleep, and I didn’t quite comprehend where I was going. The route seemed familiar, although my judgment was not at its best at this moment. A few turns of corners later, and I find myself standing outside of a tall building, a mock guitar adorning its two front doors. It stood out amongst the rural hills and farm land around it, and it drew me towards it with some unknown magnetic force.

“What?” I say, trying to keep it to myself but shock expressing this louder than appreciated. It was as if fate was smiling upon me, a hand to guide me.

With this scenario fitting best in my head, I opened the two front doors. My heart was racing with anticipation.

“Yo! I’ve never seen you before. You new here?”

It was as if my prayers were answered.
A tall boy with shoulder length blonde hair, blue eyes, and the look of rebellion stands near a stand to the left of the entrance. The way he holds himself shows confidence; that intimidated me. My body freezes, unable to answer. His eyes look into mine, confused.
“You okay? Walk into the wrong building or something?” 

Did I? 

As I’m thinking, a girl with messy black hair and dark eyes walks next to me,
“Who’s this? Do we have a new member?” Her voice was deep, a slight rasp as she finished her sentence. She crossed her arms in front of herself,
“Are you mute? Say something.”

My eyes widen and I nod,
“S-Sorry. What… Is this place?” 

The boy responds curtly,
“Rock hall. Y’ know. Where all the local kids come and jam…?”

Rock hall?

I place my hands together in front of me and send a thanks to whatever divine entity caused this. The girl notices this,
“You play an instrument? Don’t say guitar. Everybody plays guitar.” 

The boy scowls,
“Or vocals. Everybody who lacks talent chooses vocals.”

The two have some sort of stare off, and I feel a bit uneasy, quickly changing the subject,
“Sure, I play bass. I mean, if you need somebody…” The boy grins,
“Bass?! Awesome! We need a bassist. Nobody plays bass.” He quickly approaches me, his pace unsettling,
“I’m Lucas. Uh, but you can call me Luke.” 

He holds out his hand. His fingertips are slightly calloused, the way he rests his hands shows a reliance on the pointer and middle finger. A guitarist. 

I take my hand in his, and we shake hands, firmly and quickly. His reaction is shocking when my hand is cold against his, but he says nothing.
“I’m Kelly. Nice to meet you.” 

The girl then speaks up,
“Gigi. Great to see we finally have a bassist.” 

I don’t remember agreeing to join them, but that saves a headache for me.
“Y-yup! I’d be happy to help.” The two exchange a glance, and then look over to me,
“Are you gonna run home and grab your instrument or what? I want you to feel comfortable jamming before you commit.”

“Right!” I say, my eyes darting to the door, and I shout a goodbye before running through the two front doors and sprinting down the street.