Chapter 3

| Chapter 3 : "A Band in the Making"

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The idea of a band had taken root in Lyneora’s heart, growing stronger with each passing day. The more she thought about it, the more she believed it could be something extraordinary. Music had always been a source of comfort for her, a way to express what she couldn’t put into words. Now, it could be her legacy—a mark she’d leave on the world.

Sitting with Shinden Roy in their usual spot behind the gym, Lyneora outlined her vision. “We’ll record our songs, upload them online, and keep our identities secret. It’s not about us; it’s about the music.”

Shinden Roy plucked absently at his guitar, his brow furrowed in thought. “It sounds ambitious. What makes you think we can pull it off?”

Lyneora grinned. “Because I believe we can. And because you’re too talented to waste this opportunity.”

Shinden Roy sighed, shaking his head. “You’re really something, Lyneora. Fine, I’m in. But just the two of us won’t cut it. We need a drummer and a bassist, at least.”

“I know just where to start,” Lyneora said, her eyes alight with determination.

Lyneora approached Nate Blake Servet the following day after school. He was leaning against a tree near the parking lot, earbuds in, his gaze distant. The other students gave him a wide berth, whispering rumors about his violent past and reputation as a delinquent.

Lyneora wasn’t intimidated. She walked up to him with purpose, her notebook tucked under her arm. “Nate,” she said, her voice steady.

He glanced at her, his expression skeptical. “What do you want?”

“I heard you play the drums.”

Nate Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Lyneora replied with a shrug. “What matters is whether you’re still interested.”

Nate Blake pulled out one earbud, leaning against the tree with crossed arms. “Why would you care? Most people just see trouble when they see me.”

“I see someone who could be part of something amazing,” Lyneora said without missing a beat. “I’m starting a band, and we need a drummer. You’d be perfect.”

Nate Blake snorted. “A band? Sounds like a joke.”

“It’s not,” Lyneora said firmly. “I’ve heard about you, Nate. About how good you are. Don’t you want to show people that there’s more to you than they think?”

For a moment, Nate Blake’s guarded expression faltered. But then he shook his head. “I don’t think so. Find someone else.”

Lyneora stepped closer, her voice softer. “Nate, I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t fit in. But I also know that music has a way of bringing people together. Just think about it, okay?”

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t walk away either. Lyneora left him with her notebook open to a page where she’d scribbled a few lines of lyrics, hoping it might spark something in him.

Finding Andrielle Drivrunk was easier. She was well-known in their community—a model student and actual model, her face often gracing the covers of local magazines. But behind her polished exterior, Lyneora sensed a kindred spirit.

She caught Andrielle during a break between classes, sitting alone under a tree with a book in her lap. Lyneora approached with a smile. “Hey, Andrielle.”

Andrielle looked up, her expression polite but reserved. “Hi, Lyneora. Can I help you?”

“I heard you play the bass,” Lyneora said, getting straight to the point.

Andrielle’s eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“I have my sources,” Lyneora replied with a grin. “I’m starting a band, and I think you’d be a great fit.”

Andrielle hesitated, her fingers brushing the edges of her book. “I don’t know. I’m not sure I have the time.”

Lyneora sat beside her, her tone gentle. “It’s not about time, Andrielle. It’s about finding something that makes you feel alive. I think music could be that for you.”

Andrielle’s gaze softened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through her composed facade. “You really think so?”

“I know so,” Lyneora said. “You’re more than just grades and magazine covers. Music could be a way to show the world who you really are.”

Andrielle smiled faintly. “I’m in. Maybe music will fill the emptiness my trophies can’t.”

The first meeting of the fledgling band took place at Nate Blake’s house. To Lyneora’s surprise, Nate Blake had shown up, albeit reluctantly, carrying a battered drumstick in his hand. Andrielle arrived with her bass slung over her shoulder, her usual poise replaced by a hint of nervousness.

Shinden Roy was already there, tuning his guitar. He looked up as the others entered, his expression a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

“So, this is the crew?” Nate Blake asked, his tone skeptical.

“This is it,” Lyneora said brightly. “Welcome to LANS.’”

“What does that even mean?” Nate Blake asked.

“It’s a placeholder. Initials of our First Names.” Lyneora admitted. “We’ll come up with something better later. Right now, let’s focus on what we’re here to do: make music.”

The group exchanged uncertain glances, but Lyneora’s enthusiasm was infectious. They began by sharing their influences and favorite genres, gradually finding common ground. Shinden Roy played a simple melody on his guitar, and Andrielle added a bassline, her fingers moving tentatively at first but gaining confidence. Nate Blake tapped out a rhythm on a practice pad, his movements precise and controlled.

Lyneora watched them, her heart swelling with a sense of accomplishment. For the first time in weeks, she felt like she was doing something that truly mattered.

As the evening went on, the group began to gel, their initial awkwardness giving way to laughter and camaraderie. Nate Blake surprised them all with a dry sense of humor, and Andrielle’s sharp wit kept everyone on their toes.

By the time they wrapped up, Lyneora knew they were onto something special. “This is just the beginning,” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “We’re going to make something amazing together.”

Shinden Roy nodded, his eyes meeting hers with a newfound determination. “Let’s do it.”

For the first time in her life, Lyneora felt like she wasn’t just surviving—she was truly living. And for the first time since her diagnosis, she believed in the possibility of leaving something beautiful behind.

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...⚜️ AerixielDaiminse ⚜️...

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