LUNA'S POV

Upon returning home, I assemble my damaged instruments in the center of the room. Most of them are only slightly tampered with, others are straight up mutilated. I cringe at the state of some of them, confused as to how such things can occur.

Chunk arrives minutes later, hefting a repair kit and his own guitar. He seats himself on a bean bag chair, inspecting the instruments displayed before him with a puzzled frown on his face. He picks up one-an acoustic guitar snapped entirely in half-and turns to me, his bulk making the jagged piece of wood in his hand seem almost tiny.

"What the 'ell happened to this, luv?" He asks in his thick English accent, and I snort with laughter at the memory. "Oh yeah, my sweet 'ol acoustic guitar." I murmur thoughtfully. "Here's the thing. That," I gesture to the mutilated guitar in Chunk's hands. "Happened due to a prank Luan pulled on me."

Looking at the broken pieces helps the memory come clearer to me, almost as if it just occurred. "I walked into the bedroom, and that guitar was literally hanging from the ceiling fan, which-I should tell you, dude-was spinning faster than the speed of freaking light. When I asked Luan what the hell she was doing, she stated that she was playing some 'air guitar.'"

I cross my arms after finishing my story, raising an eyebrow at Chunk. It's evident that Chunk is entertained by my story, but trying in vain to hide the fact. "Your sister was always a bit of a special character." Chunk states, and I nod with sheer agreement. "She is. We all are, actually." I add.

There's a brief silence as Chunk fiddles with my instruments, making minor repairs, adjustments, etc. I pick up my Logan V80 Shredder, gazing at the sheet notes Mrs. V provided us.

"Chunk…" I pipe up, noticing just how concentrated the man is on his repairs. "Somethin' the matter?" He asks, and I shrug meekly.

"Well, not really, dude. I was just thinking about how I have to write a song for the Royal Rumble, and I need some advice." Before Chunk has a chance to reply, I continue to speak.

"My ideas have to be good. The best, actually. I need to blow the socks off of Michelle and Doug." I state firmly. Bewildered, Chunk splutters with words not yet processed.

"I mean, I don't want to be that kind of person, you know?" I continue, unsure even as to what I'm saying. "But at the same time, I can't stand by what they're doing. Everything they stand for just… just…"

I pause, allowing myself to swallow a lungful of air. I finally turn from my guitar to meet Chunk's eyes. "I'm bisexual." I state, no quiver to my voice. I'm not sure as to what occurred in my thought process, but I allow the words to slip from my mouth nonetheless.

Chunk, still clearly taken aback by my rant, leans forward. "Come again?" He questions. "I-I'm bisexual." I repeat, the quaver finally settling into my voice. Chunk's features soften as my words sink in.

"Oh, well, that's great, luv." He states, some of his confusion still prominent in his features. I chuckle nervously. "Yeah, sorry about that, Chunk. This week has been a bit of a ride." I say truthfully, and my roadie nods.

"Ah, that's alright. I've been on the roller coaster of life too many times to count." Chunk states, and I can't help but chuckle. There's a brief pause before Chunk pipes back up.

"You're dating Samantha, aren't ya?" He asks, and I nod. "For how long now?" I consider Chunk's question for a moment, running my fingers along the glossy sheen of my electric guitar. "I mean, we established that we were dating a couple months ago." I murmur thoughtfully.

Chunk nods at my response, a faint glimmer of pride in his eyes. "Ya know, I'm real happy for the two of ya." He states, and I smile broadly, suddenly feeling immensely better now that I have one thing off my plate this afternoon. Though I didn't have any intention of coming out to Chunk, the relief is prominent. "Thanks. That means a lot to me, dude." I say, and Chunk tips his cap off to me with a grin.

"So, still need help with that song?" Chunk asks moments later, and my grin grows ever wider. "You know it, brah!" I exclaim.

We spend the remainder of the evening alternating between composing and reading music (Chunk repairing any instruments he can while we have the chance).

Feeling very content, I walk into rehearsal the next afternoon with enough notes to last the month. Mrs. V beams with pride upon seeing how much I achieved, and seeing her prideful only adds to my increasing confidence. Michelle and Doug, however, don't look very thrilled themselves.

"Aw, we've got a little overachiever over here." Sam giggles, slinging an arm around my waist. I smile at her excitement.

Rehearsal today is spent practicing the sheet music we had received, Michelle and Doug critiquing our every move.

"Too flat."

"Can't hear you, sweetie."

"Ugh, much too grating on the ears."

It takes all of my strength and willpower not to bash their faces in with my guitar as they saunter past. Thankfully, I'm conveniently seated beside Alex, and we share whispered conversation.

"They're a bunch of grouchy sad sacks, aren't they?" Alex says when the two judges are out of earshot. I wholeheartedly agree.

"So, how's life dudette?" Alex asks when a time presents itself. I shrug meekly. "It's fine, I guess. How about you? How's…" I hesitate, reflecting back to their mother. Alex seems to catch on, however, for they lean in to whisper back. "I'm good. My dad is doing better at least. For a while, Sully and I had to hide his beer cans and medicine." They shrug as if this is common knowledge. "But he's improving. We all are."

I nod, a small lump forming in my throat at their story. I consider providing them my support and condolences, but Doug is quick to interrupt my train of thought. "And what could possibly be more important than this lesson?" He questions imploringly.

I don't know, maybe the well being of Alex's family, I suppress the urge to interject. I bottle it down, however, mumbling a "nothing".

Doug leans in, having not caught my words. I take notice. "Nothing." I repeat, raising my voice this time. "Nothing is more important than this lesson."

Obviously content with my response, Doug nods his head curtly, stalking towards another unsuspecting student. Grumbling with agitation, I turn back to Alex. "Ignore him." I state, though it's obvious that that's the only thing we can do in the present moment. Alex nods, ceasing our conversation.

Mrs. V looks unnaturally stressed and discomforted during this afternoon's rehearsal, and a physical weight looms over my heart at her sullen features. I find myself approaching the music teacher once the bell chimes for dismissal. She's stooping over to retrieve a miscellaneous piece of paper on the floor, but I beat her to it. Snatching it up, I promptly hand it to her. Seemingly caught unawares by my sudden company, she grins, accepting the paper.

"Thanks, dear." She says sweetly, turning back to her desk to attend to her own affairs.

"How are things, Mrs. V?" I find myself asking, and Mrs. V turns to face me. She scrutinizes me through her thin-rimmed glasses. Sensing my concern, she exhales through her teeth.

"I'd hate to lie to my students, Luna, honey, so the truth is, I'm a little stressed out." Mrs. V murmurs. I frown at Mrs. V gentle and sympathetic expression that shows through her tired eyes.

"We all go through it. Teachers included." Mrs. V adds. She smiles sadly at me before casting her gaze to my back, evidently nervous. The sound of two pairs of feet has me turning around. Michelle-crumpled paper airplane in hand-storms with Doug in between the two of us. Without a shred of consideration for Mrs. V, Michelle shoves the paper in the woman's face, scoffing.

"We found this on the floor by Jackie's desk. Should we execute a punishment, seeing how rude it is to be playing during class?" The woman scowls. Taken aback, yet surprisingly calm, Mrs. V shakes her head. "No no, dear. No need. They were just being kids. Let them be, you know, seeing how they won't be kids forever."

Evidently confused and repulsed by Mrs. V's response, Michelle draws the paper away and crumples it into a ball. It's Doug who pipes up next.

"No wonder your students are so…" As if looking for inspiration for a good word, Doug narrows his eyes at me. "...disorganized." Stifling the urge to attack the two of them, I remain as calm as possible, trembling with the effort.

"Oh, by the way, Nancy," Doug begins, referring to Mrs. V by her first name. "We found these keys on the ground by the second wing hallway. Hopefully that eases most of your troubles." The relief in Mrs. V's face is prominent as she collects her possession. Her worry lines fade drastically from her features.

"I can't tell you how much this means to me. Thank you so much!" Mrs. V gushes. Michelle and Doug share a conceited smile. The look is enough to make one gag. "Thank you again for having us, Mrs. V. We shall be off now." Michelle states moments before the two judges saunter their way out of the room.

Seemingly unperturbed by the event that just transpired, Mrs. V collects herself and goes back to organizing. Unable to bear the sudden silence any longer, I interject.
"You shouldn't let them speak to you like that, Mrs. V. It isn't right." Though my tone may come off as a bit derogatory, Mrs. V seems quite content at my reaction.

"I guess you may be right, Luna. You were always quite bright for your age." Mrs. V begins. "However, there's a fine line between 'listening' and 'taking to heart'." Not quite catching on, I raise an imploring eyebrow. Mrs. V smiles sweetly at my curiosity.

"As people, we have the decision as to whether or not we allow the words of others to sway us. That can also include our own words of self depreciation and criticism." For a moment, I don't reply verbally, just nod my head. "Always remember that."

Finished providing her inspirational shred of wisdom, Mrs. V regards me desk again. "Don't you have a ride to catch, dear?" She asks me moments later, not bothering to turn her head from her task.

Still gathering and processing Mrs. V's last words, I barely hear what my music teacher says before it sinks in. "Damn it! I-I'm sorry, Mrs. V, I've gotta run. Thanks for the advice!"

In a desperate rush, I lunge for my bag. Lori will hate me for making her wait. Smiling at me the whole time, Mrs. V waves as I exit the band room.

I receive an alert, floundering for my phone to check the notification. It's from Sam.

Sam: Hey, sorry, love, had to run. Is everything alright?

I text a reply just as I enter the car parked outside Royal Woods High School.

Luna: All good, dude. Just sharing a word with Mrs. V.

It takes until half the journey home to receive another text from Sam.

Sam: Have you told your parents about your bisexuality?

I swallow hard. I obviously haven't, but revealing such news to Sam would be heart wrenching. Biting my lip nervously, I hesitantly send a blunt "no". As a last resort, I send a follow up text.

Luna: But I'll tell them tonight!

Sam is quick to reply, sending a kissy face emoji. I smile at the show of affection; no matter how far away my girlfriend is, her love can travel for miles.