Chapter 1

I stared down at the flyer in my hand, totally dumbstruck.

"Battle of the bands?" My eyes flicked up at Sam's eyes after I spoke. I must've made a weird face at him because he got a little uncomfortable once he met my eyes. He cowered down, trying to think of what to say next. Mia sat beside him, anticipating the answer while Kaiden sharpened a stick with his knife. He seemed to want to just go with the flow rather than care.

I've always been around music. My grandmother often times would shout at me from the kitchen saying, "Christopher! Turn it down!" As loud as her little voice could strain. It's like an addiction. I have to be listening to music at all times or I go insane. I'll have withdrawals.

That being said I wasn't completely against the idea of this.

"So you're saying the mayor is putting on a music competition to win the election, again?" I said as if it was a disease.

"Pretty much," Kaiden mumbled, setting his stick down. I noticed where he had got the stick from.

"Is that my extra chair leg?" I glared a little at Kaiden, confused. He stood up, looking at the chair before shrugging.

"I don't know, is it?" He spoke, plopping back into the green bean bag he was sitting in.

I rolled my eyes, looking around the room. We usually met inside my game room, the familiar posters and furniture comforted me.

Mia cleared her throat before speaking in her small but bold tone.

"Chris, this could be a good idea..." She spoke, holding back the excitement she wanted to show about the situation.

"Listen," I began, "Sam, Mia, it's too-"

"We win money if we get first," Kaiden spoke up, interrupting me with a deadpan voice. The 3 of us glanced at Kaiden for a minute.

I shook my head, the group groaning. I stood up, crossing my arms defensively. I was like an army general to them. We all have a history with each other and for some reason, every time, I come out as the leader. Each of us had an inseparable memory of each other. Given the fact we are now Juniors in high school and have been a group of friends since the 4th grade, I can understand why. I remember when we were kids, we had a tree house only WE could be in. None of the stupid neighborhood boys or the annoying girls. Just us. That was safe.

I glanced out at the tree that had our tree house. It needed some serious help. The paint was chipping off, the walls were slowly beginning to degrade and god knows what stuff is still up there. The tree that holds it is so old, it looks like an old man trying to carry a cinder block.

It's no wonder why the tree house is in bad shape, once my grandfather died, I never wanted to go back inside. I hated looking at it. The tree looked just like him, old, broken, dead. I took a breath, looking back at the group that had gone quiet. They still looked at me longingly, waiting for the decision. I rolled my eyes, throwing my hands up in the air, they came down and hit my thighs with a slap against my ripped skinny jeans.

"Okay! Fine!" I finally said. I walked out of the living room into the kitchen to get a glass of water. I heard the group's breath speed up, eventually, Mia is laughing and Sam is smiling. Maybe it won't be as bad as I think. At least I'm not, alone.

Later, after Mia went home and Kaiden finished sharpening my chair legs and got out of my house, it left just me and Sam. This was normal. Sam didn't like to go home, there are some untold details as to why, but the main reason is his father. His mother divorced his dad back in 6th grade, and in order for him to stay in our school, he had to live with his dad. This would be fine, but his dad isn't a really good person. He keeps going for me. That's one thing I've always liked about Sam.

"Do you actually have any ideas on how we are going to do this, wise guy?" I retorted. Sam was on the couch, watching Dr. Phil while I was making instant mac and cheese. He turned his head around, pausing the TV.

"Ha," He laughed a little, taking in a breath, "Of course I don't, but we can just wing it."

"You're joking," My tone got a little sharp. His eyes met mine. They became serious.

"I'm not entirely sure why you even said yes to it. If you don't want to do it, then just go Chris. We can find someone to replace you. You aren't incomparable." He sharpened his tone a little as well.

I turned back to the microwave. I felt his eyes still on my back. Maybe he was right, why would I be complaining when I can just leave. I reached up, not able to really reach the mac and cheese in the microwave. Sam's footsteps came closer, I could hear his socks sliding on the tile that lined the kitchen. He came behind me, reaching up to get the Macaroni out of the microwave for me. He always did things for me. I can't stay mad at him ever, he always tries to make up for when he makes me feel certain ways.

"You didn't have to ge-"

"Shush, you couldn't reach it anyways." He interrupted me, looking down at me.

"Okay, mom," I walked to the silverware cabinet to get a fork. I heard his socks scrape the tile again as he walked back to the couch.

I few minutes passed, which soon turned into an hour and my grandma came home. The front door opened.

"Christopher?" She called before looking down at me on the living room floor watching TV with Sam still. She smiled her dearest.

"How was your day at school?" She asked, dropping off her nightly groceries she bought for dinner. "And, Samuel, are you staying for dinner?" She washed off the vegetables as she asked. Sam looked up at her, getting up to go help her.

"Yes Ma'am, if that's alright," He smiled charmingly. My grandma smiled back. If she loves him so much, why hasn't she disowned me and adopted him yet?

"My day was okay," I finally said. My grandma nodded.

"Did you hear about the battle of the band's thing that's going to happen in downtown next month?" My grandma asked, before laughing a little, the knife she was using to cut up the squash made noises as it hit the cutting board. "He will do anything to get reelected." She shook her head.

I nearly choked on air when she mentioned it. Sam's panicked eyes relaxed a little once he looked away from me.

"Yes, Chris, Mia, Kaiden and I are going to sign up for it," He answered, grabbing the knife gently from my grandma. She let go, allowing him to cut it up while she went to do other necessary tasks for dinner. She had a big grin.

"Sounds like a fun idea," She finally said. "Chris, your room is a mess, do you and Sam mind going and cleaning it up?" She looked at Sam longingly. He smiled and he nodded.

We both ran up the stairs, racing each other silently. We didn't even say we were, we just knew we had to. Once we got to the top, I ran into my room, shutting the door before he got in.

"Oh come on Chris, open the door!" He banged on it, his hand jolted at the knob as he put all his body weight into the door to open it. I stepped back, he fell into my room with a burst of laughter.

You'd assume my grandma would tell us to settle down, but all I heard from the kitchen down the stairs was laughter. She had gotten used to our horseplay by now. I glanced around my messy room, my clothing piled up into cathedrals, empty soda cans and chip bags from the corner store off Harvey Street built up into waves. It was a disaster. Normal for a teen my age though, Sam seemed right at home. He sat down on my bed, it made a creaking noise. I started shuffling my piles of clothes with my feet, too lazy to try and figure out which ones I needed to wash and which ones I had just washed. Sam watched me. He cleared his throat, I could hear the sound of a seasonal allergy in the back of his voice.

"So, what do you think we should do?" He asked, bracing for a negative response. I should've known he would bring it up.

"Well, we write a song, develop music and Bam, we humiliate ourselves in front of the whole city." I smiled like an idiot. He glared at me for a moment before looking away. I continued to pile my clothes into a hamper as we sat in silence.

"Your guitar needs restringing," He finally said, my back turned to him as I shoved the last bit of my mess into the hamper. I turned to him, he held the pure white electric guitar carefully. The guitar was my dads. I never got to know my biological parents, I never really bothered to care. I had my grandma and that was all I needed. The guitar simply made me feel like I actually had a dad at one point. I remember being younger and getting teased about not having a dad and I'd show the snobby 5th-grade boys the guitar as proof.

"Yeah, I haven't played on that in a while. I don't get my allowance until Friday. I should probably string it again, though, since you got me into this mess," I mumbled as I reached for the guitar. He let me have it. I set it aside on it's wrack to collect some more dust as a piece of junk like that should. I understood why the guitar meant too much to me, but I never understood why I felt so hostile towards it. It was a love-hate relationship I guess.

Sam shrugged. He opened his mouth to talk, but was soon interrupted by a voice downstairs.

"Dinner is ready!" My grandma called, I shot a look of competition towards Sam. It was time for another stair race.

Later that night as I lay in bed, I stared at the ceiling. I talked to myself quietly, as if I was having a conversation.

"How will this work? I seriously can't-do this," I trailed on through thought and word. Eventually, my anger bubbled a little and I threw a pillow across my room. There was a thud and when I looked up to find the source, there laid the guitar. A very eerie, out of tune, discordant noise rung from the 3 strings that were still strung to it. I sat up slowly, my eyes fixated on the guitar. Something struck me. I stood up thinking, before rushing over to a tiny jewelry box, rummaging through it like a kid in a candy shop. I snatched a circle of silver guitar strings I had kept for a rainy day. These strings were old, but the best strings real musicians used. My face lit up as the silver shined from my wimpy, yellow desk lamp onto my face. A smile of achievement and pure confidence spread across my face, as I walked over to the guitar.

"Welcome to your new home, Silver Strings. We've got some work to do."