Roxy: Hey guys, It's RoxannePenn here, but you can call me Roxy! I'm a new author here, and I'm sorry if I suck... a lot... I probably will, but don't be afraid to tell me that! Or whatever, I guess I'll take what I can get! So i am very sorry if it's a little short and if I have any spelling/grammar mistakes! This story was all Hunter's Anarchy's idea, and I just kinda put it into words... So, I need someone to do the disclaimer!

Laney: I'm on it! RoxannePenn does NOT own Grojband or any of the characters used in this story... She doesn't even own the plot...

Roxy: Okay! That's enough! Now, read on young grasshoppers! And please, remember to review!


Laney's POV. Riffin garage. 6:18 P.M.

Music, to me, is an escape from everyday life and struggles and is a pathway to relaxation and ease. It's different for everyone, honestly. Whether it's reading, drawing, playing sports, or even just watching a nice movie, everyone has an activity that just soothes their nerves and eases their troubles slowly down the drain at least momentarily.

Music is my escape.

These easygoing thoughts were swimming through my head as I plucked my bass strings in a series of short and amazing-sounding riffs. The smooth, deep noise mixed perfectly with the loud beats of Kon's drums, the melodious plinking of Kin's keyboard, and the strong chords of Corey's guitar. We were nearing the end of the song, and I smiled at the thought of another set list done for when we had another gig.

Well... Whenever we had one, we'd be ready, anyway.

Then, Corey slammed the final chord, and our music slowly died out. When it was silent, Corey looked at me and grinned happily, showing off his pearly-white teeth and soft baby blue eyes. "Nice job dudes!" he cheered heartily, pumping his fist into the air and launching his guitar pick off to do who-knows-what harm.

Maybe it'll go kill off another civilization of ants, or assassinate a foreign governor, or maybe even go and burrow to the Earth's core... We don't know, quite honestly.

Kin and Kon smiled and fist-bumped, cheering simultaneously about how much we rock. I smiled and shook my head at their antics as I turned to Corey, who was gazing at me happily. I reached towards him, a hand raised. "Nice work Core!" I complimented, offering a high-five.

His smile seemed to increase, (which seems almost impossible,) as he slapped me five, his eyes never leaving mine. "You too fella!" he said as he turned around to face Kin and Kon.

I ignored the pangs in my chest at the dreaded nickname as the guys babbled on about whatever upcoming gig they had hoped to snag. I smiled and reached into my pocket, fishing out my phone. My eyes almost bugged out of my head as I came across the time. I groaned and slid the phone back into my pocket, moving to unplug my bass from the amp. "Sorry guys, but I gotta run," I said apologetically, shooting them a weary smile.

They all groaned in sync and walked over to me. "Why?" Kon whined, shooting me his puppy eyes. Corey nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we were just gonna go grab a bite to eat," he said as he cocked an eyebrow. I smiled and lifted my bass strap (and my bass) from my shoulders and carefully slid my instrument into its stand.

"I promised my mom that I'd be home before 6:30 to help her cook dinner," I said as I turned back to them. "Is it okay if I leave my bass here?" Corey nodded with a loud drawn-out sigh as he walked over. "Okay, so I guess we'll see you tomorrow," he asked, looking at me pointedly. I nodded with a smile. "For sure guys," I said happily. "Wouldn't miss it."

I went to give Kin and Kon a hug goodbye, them grinning tiredly from a day of hard rocking. As the years went on, you could say that I've been getting more affectionate with the guys. They were like my second immediate family to me, after all. We said goodbye before I walked over to my best friend. Corey smile and held out his arms. I only waited a single second before walking into them, my arms outstretched as well. He gave me a somewhat longer-than-hug before smiling and saying "See you around, Lanes."

I nodded and leapt off the stage, giving a final wave before I walked out the garage door, into the sunlight, and started for my house.


(WALKING HOME TRANSITION!)


When I reached the door, I gave the knob a harsh twist and swung it open. I trudged inside and let the door slam, slipping off my combat boots and walking into the kitchen. When I walked into the room, I rapped twice on the doorframe (which had no door, awkwardly enough.)

My mom, who was standing at the stove, a flowery apron strung around her waist, turned around. She had her hair shoved into a ponytail that hung down to her shoulders and a loose blue blouse. She shot me a look before smiling, her sea green eyes glinting merrily. "Hi sweetheart," she greeted happily, turning back to the stove. "How did practice go?" I grinned and walked over, carefully watching her grill (or sauté or whatever) the chicken in the pan.

"It went great Mom," I said energetically. "I think we're really improving." She laughed and flipped a piece of the sizzling poultry over. "That's nice. How's Corey doing?" she teased, nudging my arm playfully. Despite her joking tone, my cheeks darkened and I hung my head. My mom constantly teases me about my futile crush on my best friend, and she won't let me forget about it for a second.

"He's doing good," I mumbled, turning away and walking to the cupboards. "Oh you know I'm teasing!" my mom said exasperatedly, smiling nonetheless. "Don't be such a wimp!" I cracked a smile and rolled my eyes at my mother's erratic antics. I started to retrieve plates and bowls and such, when my mom suddenly turned around, cocking an eyebrow at me. "Oh, and Laney," she said in a tone I couldn't place. "I almost forgot. A letter came for you today when you were at practice." She gestured to the counter (where a stack of mail lay,) with her spatula.

I nodded and walked over, curiosity blooming in my mind. I sifted through the pile until I came to a somewhat mysterious-looking cream-colored envelope with a thick red seal that had some kind of bird on it. In cursive printed lettering on the front, read 'Laney M. Penn.'

There was no return address, no stamp, no anything. Only my name.

I quirked an eyebrow and messily tried to open the letter, failing miserably and only succeeding in ripping the envelope in half and scavenging the actual letter. I unfolded the thick parchment and began reading, a crease forming between my eyebrows.

Dear Laney M. Penn,

Congratulations! You've been nominated to compete in a private sponsored bass soloist competition, set for the evening of July 14th. You are required to bring this letter as your ticket inside, and so this means that only you may attend. Private competition, of course, with only the contestants allowed.

And, if you'd please, be discreet as to talking about this event. Not just anyone is good enough, as you probably know! But, just to ensure that you won't tell anyone, if you are caught with mentioning it to a single soul, you shall be disqualified. Again, congratulations and we hope to see you there!

Sincerely,

I couldn't read the garbled chicken scratch that was supposed to be the signature, but I assumed it was one of the rich entrepreneurs that scoured Peaceville for hidden talent. There was something at the bottom though...

P.S. The location, further times, and requirements are on the included document. Best of luck to you!

I shook my head in disbelief and looked at the piece of paper still shoved in the envelope. I folded the paper back up and stuck the documents into my back pocket, the lines running through my head.

I went back to place the plates and silverware, as my mom was finishing up the chicken. "So what was that about?" my mother asked curiously, placing her hands on her hips. I bit my lip and scoured my brain for what to say. This could be my chance to get discovered, ultimately leading back to the band! I couldn't blow this! "Uh..." I fumbled for words. "J-just something from school, Mom," I lied, my heart snapping in two.

She nodded and looked down, as if she knew I was lying. I felt my stomach tighten as I looked away, strategically placing dinnerware on the table. "Please forgive me," I muttered under my breath as my mom and I grabbed some plates and started to dish out food.


Corey's POV. Riffin garage. 6:23 P.M.

I waved goodbye to Laney for a final time before walked back over to Kin and Kon. "You guys still wanna go grab some pizza or something?" I asked, wiggling my eyebrows. Kon started to grin and nod happily before Kin stopped him. He shot his brother a stern look before turning back to me. "Sorry Corey, but we can't," he said apologetically. "We didn't know it was getting so late, and we gotta get home."

I slouched over and nodded, a bit depressed that my friends had to go. "Oh... Tomorrow night then?" I asked hopefully. Kin smiled. "Sure dude. Okay, see you." We fist-bumped and I watched as they crossed the street to their house. I shook my head and pulled the garage door shut with a quiet grunt. I turned and walked up the steps to the door leading to my house, flicking off the lights before entering. I kicked the door shut and walked into the kitchen to make myself a sandwich or something.

Being a growing teenage boy, I'm starving, like, half the time. I sifted through the cupboards for some bread and peanut butter, when I heard steps behind me. I shot a look over my shoulder to see that it was my dad, who was holding a newspaper under his arm and talking on his phone in the other. "Listen Brian," he said with a slight growl in his tone. "I don't care what it takes, but we need to get this project done before next Monday."

He shot me a smile and playfully ruffled my hair, offsetting my orange beanie and shifting hair to cover my face. I spat it out as my dad grinned and threw the paper down onto the kitchen table. "Or else it'll be your head on the chopping block," he blurted suddenly, anger dripping from his voice as I adjusted my beanie. "Understand? Good! Call me back when you get your head out of your ass, Johnson!" My dad sighed as he hung up, sliding the phone into his pocket. He shot me another weary smile, weakly trudging to the table, where he plopped down with a moan.

"Ugh," he groaned as I stifled laughter. "These idiots are gonna be the death of me." I laughed and shrugged. "They're a pain, but not fatal, Dad," I said mockingly, turning back to my peanut butter sandwich. He chuckled. "True." He started reading the paper before shooting me an indistinguishable look. "Oh, and you got a letter in the mail," he said, jerking his chin back at a pile of mail littering the counter.

I nodded and quickly shoved the sandwich in my mouth, (half of it having out,) as I shoved the food items back in their places. I rummaged through the pile until I found a thick, cream-colored envelope with a red wax seal with some kinda bird insignia. On the front, in fancy primes cursive, read 'Corey J. Riffin.' I cocked an eyebrow and opened it with ease, sliding two pieces of paper out.

Dear Corey J. Riffin,

Congratulations!