You were in concert band in your senior year, and you hated it. The music was never good, and the people were just plain dumb. There was a big closet in the back of the band room that you'd always sit in, just relaxing until the period was over, all by yourself.

One day, after your lunch period, you went to the closet and found another boy your age. He had black hair with dusty red tips, and he wore a red beanie, tanktop, jean jacket and black jeans with white Jordans to go with it.

He was strumming a red Fender Statocaster, quietly mumbling to himself while changing frets.

He looked up and noticed you, then smiled a bit, then moved his binder.

"Sorry about that. Didn't know that I was vacating your spot."