In December, the school board decided to merge several student clubs, including the choir and orchestra, into one general music club, where students could sing and play instruments together.

On Mondays, the choir would gather in the music room, chatting and settling in. The teacher explained how things would work in the new club, and just as she finished, the door opened. The orchestra members filed in—strings, winds, brass—bringing a mix of sounds and excitement with them.

Among them was a new boy, his guitar case slung over his back. He seemed a little out of place, glancing down at the floor one moment and staring out the window the next. There was something quiet about him, like he wasn’t sure where he fit in yet.

The orchestra director, Ms. Johnson, introduced him as Henry Calloway. He narrowed his eyes a bit to her due to her bad, exaggerated britanic pronunciantion. Well, apparently, he also played the cello, which is why he’d been accepted into the orchestra. But today, he’d brought his guitar for the group’s first dynamic. He gave a small nod, his face hard to read, as if he wasn’t sure how to connect with everyone just yet.