“Are we all ready? Ok, and a one, and a two, and a one two three four- STOP STOP STOP STOP-” 

“But Mr Carry we didn’t even play anything yet-” 

“I KNOW! But I am NOT PREPARED for the horrendous clash of sounds that is about to assault my innocent ears!”

The atmosphere is heavy as usual today in the music room of Brooklyn High. The students of this band have one common goal; to play some freakin’ music, but their passion outweighs their talent, in most of these students’ cases. It’s a good thing that I’m narrating a novel and not a movie or something, or you’d have to hear this disaster too…

“I have NEVER in my 32 years of teaching music, heard a group as unaligned as you… Do any of you ever practice??? AT ALL???”

The class is silent. Roxy Landers, who was never afraid to speak her mind at any given time, clears her throat and announces: “Yeah I tuned out when you said ‘In my 32 years of teaching’ I swear I’ve heard just about every teacher in this school start their long dramatic ted talks with that intro…” A few immature chuckles and snorts emerge from the crowd. Mr Carry looks across his audience in frustration, his eyes are sad. “Do any of you even want to be here? Do any of you care about playing? If you don’t, then we might as well just go back to not having a band here and I’ll just… go find another job.” he preaches, genuinely. A vast majority of the crowd suddenly recognizes his pain, and how much he seems to care about this group. They all immediately reassured him simultaneously after he said that… They said things like “Yeah of course we want to be here!” and “Why would we join the band if we didn’t?”. Roxy looks regretful. Suddenly being the ‘cool class clown’ isn’t as important to her anymore. “I care about playing!” Layan Noyes stands up, and announces to the class. Everyone turns and looks. “Look guys I know some of us aren't as passionate about this as others…” he glares at Roxy. “But we still have to try! Think about why most of us are here in the first place. Last time I checked, a lot of you people had dreams of pursuing music!” The atmosphere changes for the better, thanks to Layan’s natural leadership characteristic.

“Shut up! Don’t you dare accuse me of not caring about this!” Roxy protests in self-defense.

“I never said that!”

“Your look said that…”

“OK- just quit being spicy for a second, and let me finish, please. I’m sorry if I offended you, Roxy.” Roxy contemplated for a second, as if she was battling with her short temper, and then the tense expression on her face disappeared. “Go on,” she says with contempt. As fast as Roxy’s temper is lit, it’s just as easily diffused.

“As I was saying, we can’t go back to having no band! We need this. As aspiring musicians where will we get our experience from? And the people who are just here for fun, what will they do instead? I admit, we sound like elementary school kids learning Hot Cross Buns for the first time whenever we play anything but… this is just too important. And I think a lot of people here agree with me.”