Lyric is in a music lesson and therefore probably should’ve put her phone on silent, though she never envisioned this barrage of dings pummelling her hearing as she tries to focus on the bow in her hands and the notes on the page. Yes she should turn it to silent, no she can’t. Her teacher doesn’t like stopping in the middle of a song, thinks it’s bad practice, even if you break a string or forget the notes you still have to py. Which is fair enough because in a performance you can’t stop, even if everyone in the audience all has their phones ringing non-stop, that’s their choice not yours and therefore the show must go on. Lyric has had a time before where she forgot the notes, a while ago nonetheless, but she didn’t stop, she improvised, pying to the flow and rhythm of the song. It turned out okay because of that. She’ll just have to mute her phone after finishing the song.

  Her fingers are stiff and sore by the time the music dwindles out and she pys the final note. She exhales, sitting down again as her teacher gives her feedback and improvements. Mrs Dayrus is nice and, despite the no stopping rule she’s not too strict. She’s supportive and helpful and she’s been there for Lyric through all her high and hard times. She was there when Lyric thought of quitting music, she was the reason Lyric didn’t quit, she gave music new meaning for Lyric, showing her it wasn’t something that had to be learned but something she could learn if she wished to, which was a breath of fresh air after the constant worries of not being good enough. She’s been there through Lyric’s tears on the times where music only hurt and instruments felt like cages keeping memories pying at her non-stop. At this point she’s practically family, she and her wife come over all the time for dinner and Lyric’s family have in turn gone over to theirs many times.

  When Mrs Dayrus pauses for a moment to pull out some more sheet music Lyric grabs her phone, switching it to silent before her eyes catch on where the texts have been coming from. The D&D group chat. She winces at all the sentences without capital letters, it’s fine though, no big deal. She puts her phone face down, her stomach clenching at the thought of all the unread messages clogging her notifications, the things she’s missing, the stuff they could be texting- What if it’s important? What if something happened? She has no idea what’s going on, they don’t normally text this much, what happens if something bad happened?! Her fingers alight on the back of her phone beside her, trying to stifle the sound of her rushed breaths. It’s fine, it’s fine. They’re bored and talking about random things, nothing else. The clock’s ticking from its space on the wall, tick, tick, tick. Lyric fills her mind with the rhythmic movement of the second hand, breathing deeply. Mrs Dayrus is talking about the next song they’re going to practice, the clocks ticking away, clouds slowly inching away in the sky through the window, birds breezing past, clock ticking, tick, tick, tick. Lyric breathes deeply in and out ten times, fingers tapping her phone quietly to the rhythm of the clock, tick, tick, tick. Mrs Dayrus passes her the sheet music, she takes it repcing the previous song’s sheet music with the new one, it’s L-Autunno - The Four Seasons. She knows the whole thing off by heart, every single note, Mrs Dayrus knows that, but she also knows Lyric needs the sheet music, it’s a failsafe, an anchor in case things go wrong.

  She brings her violin to her chin, touching the bow to the string as she pys, fingers alighting across the fingerboard as the music calms her mind, no longer is there anything else, it’s just her and the music and then it’s only the music, filling her mind, emptying out all her other thoughts as they flee away from the certain and steady music. She closes her eyes, only focused on the notes and flow of the music and the feeling of the strings under her fingertips and violin against her skin. She doesn’t falter, doesn't hesitate, following a script is easy, simple it’s improvising that’s hard, talking, deciding when everything is so unpredictable and uncertain and unorderly. The music flows through her veins, joining the beating of her heart, she forgets all her worries and woes, leaving them behind her, instead remembering all the joyful times. D&D club, baking with her family, chatting with Haylie on her bed as they watch something in the background, birthdays, celebrations all the way back to her father’s embrace, his fireside stories he used to read to her when she was three, her mother’s caring smile, the scent of rose perfume. Normally she avoids those memories, shoves them down deep where they can’t hurt her alongside all her bad memories but when she pys music like this, without any distractions with only the flow of notes, they come back to her like sweet honey, without the poison of sadness and pain. In music’s embrace she’s safe to remember.

  Soon the lesson is over and she says goodbye, packing up her violin, wax and bow and grabbing her phone. She knows she should check, should look at the texts but at the thought of that her heartbeat quickens and her breaths get stuck in her throat, blocking her lungs and making it hard to breath. She walks all the way to her locker, pulling out a wipe to clean the nonexistent but still worrying dirt and putting her violin away before she finally looks at her phone. She inhales, exhales, then turns it on, swiping onto her home screen to find messages. 17 notifications. Seven. Teen. It’s fine, it’s fine. She breathes in and out again before clicking onto the group chat.

  Aspen: guuyyys, comic con tickets are avaible to buy now!!!!!!

  Aspen: we should totes go together!

  Dani: Sure, I mean, why not?

  Luca: I’m up for that.

  Theo: same

  Cinth: Sure! that sounds fun!

  Aspen: yayy! i cant wait!

  Dani: Are you thinking of doing a joint costume idea because, if so, count me out.

  Aspen: nah go as whatever u want!

  Dani: Good

  Luca: Does anyone have any ideas for what they are dressing up as?

  Everyone starts talking about costumes and characters they can cospy as. Lyric scrolls through the messages, reading them all till she reaches the bottom. Aspen's asked everyone to come to the roof at lunch to chat and talk about it if they are able to, that’s now. Lyric checks the time. Well, technically the start of lunch was ten minutes ago and she’s already te. She shuts her locker. Should she text and say she’s te but on her way? What should she say? What if she says something wrong and they all think she’s weird? No, she should just get there as soon as possible. She turns, hurring to the stairwell and then up, up and up. Finally she makes it to the roof, panting as she pauses. Should she join them out there? What if they don’t want her? Even if they do want her there the environment is a whole other matter. Lyric’s breaths pick up at the thought of sitting on the ground of the roof. But it’s fine, there probably isn’t anything to worry about, if birds have come she’ll stand and if there is.. dirt.. she’ll stand. She can stand, right? They wouldn’t stop her, Haylie would understand, she always did. It would be fine. Lyric starts to go and open the door, then stops, how many people’s dirt soaked hands have touched this door? Children who py in the soil, people coming up here to garden with their gloves riddled with dirt, the door handle must be covered in it. Lyric pulls her sleeve over her hand, quickly turning the handle and pushing open the door with her shoulder as she pulls her hat out of her tote bag and puts it on.

  They’re all sitting on a flowery, paint spttered picnic bnket, it’s the one Haylie had brought to school when her art css went on an excursion to the botanical gardens. Lyric sighs, relief flooding through her like a cool stream, calming her as she goes to take a seat with everyone on the bnket.

  “Sorry I’m te.” Her voice is too soft but she can’t say it again, it’s too te. They must’ve heard though right?

  “No problem!” Aspen pipes up across from her, smiling reassuringly as they take a small bread roll filled with ham and lettuce out from their lunch box, “Ya didn’t really miss much, we were just discussing cospy ideas.”

  “Do you have any idea what you might dress up as?” Luca asks her, smiling kindly. She knows that he won’t judge her if she says no and that gives her confidence. Confidence, she doesn’t usually have any, it’s like a sweet, calming and nurturing balm that she’s unable to use on her own, it feels nice, like some ache she grew used to has disappeared for a moment and everything feels better, clearer.

  “I’m not sure, I can’t really think of any tv shows or books I’ve read that have characters I can cospy currently. I’ll have to check my list of things I’ve seen.” She’s good at remembering many things from song lyrics and notes to essays and speeches, small facts or details, data and information but tv shows she’s watched recently is not one of them. Which may partly be to do with the fact she doesn’t often watch tv. The only character she can think of is her D&D character which, not only is she only a character for their campaign and her own character, she also looks completely different with long white hair, dark navy skin and blue eyes so different from her short, braided brown hair streaked with ginger and her brown skin with smaller patches of paler skin across her body like white paint.

  “Guys, we should totally go thrift shopping together over the holidays!” Aspen says this with such pure enthusiasm and joy that Lyric can’t help but smile. Thrift shopping together sounds fun, she hasn’t gone clothes shopping in so long. Though she desperately hopes the racks of clothes are more organised than the st pce she went to. She shudders unconsciously at the memory of it, the disorder and chaos of clothes everywhere with seemingly no expnation to why they were there. She quickly refocused on the chatter around her before her mind could bring back to memories she’s been pgued with that day, of dirty clothes strewn throughout a house long gone, piled up everywhere alongside everything and anything.

  “We can also meet at Lyric and my house to create our costumes at some point if people want to, is that okay with you Lyric?” Haylie turns to her, head tilted slightly as a warm smile lights up her face, Lyric nods. That would be nice, she decides as she smiles softly back. Everyone else seems to think so too as they nod their heads, all smiling as the sun illuminates the roof and shines golden on their faces. Luca’s caramel highlights in his short hair look like spun gold in the sunshine and Lyric stares mesmerised for a moment till Luca gnces at her and their eyes lock briefly before Lyric averts her eyes, cheeks warm. Why did she stare at him? She can’t seem to understand, one moment she was looking at all of them and the next it was like she was hypnotized by the sun’s glow against Luca’s hair and face. She won’t think about that though, it’s most certainly a thought for another time if ever.

  Lyric tilts her head just a bit upwards so she can gaze into the sky, watching the clouds drift by, birds darting between the tiny water droplets forming them as they call to one another. The world is quiet, save from the chatter around her, and she lets the peace sink in as she eats her lunch and listens to the conversations around her.

  It seems like they’ve decided to meet near Aspen’s house over the holidays and go thrift shopping around their area as there are a lot of second hand shops nearby. Then they might meet up some time ter to work on costumes together. Lyric’s stomach feels like it’s filled with butterflies and it takes her a moment before she realises why. She’s excited, excited to spend time with everyone outside of school, to go shopping together. The prospect of getting to know everyone better is daunting but exhirating and despite her fears and worries it seems she’s looking forward to it.

  Aspen’s talking about their ideas for who they could cospy, if bottled cheer and friendliness was turned into a voice it would be theirs, what outfit they would choose and how they would make it. Dani and Haylie are talking to each other, which is interesting but not a bad thing, they seem to be having fun and Haylie’s smile’s like a hot chocote on a winter day to Lyric, infectiously spreading to her as Lyric smiles too from just watching Haylie happily chatting. Theo’s listening intently to Aspen occasionally giving his opinion and talking about shows he likes while Luca seems to be half listening and half thinking. Lyric can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking about, maybe ideas for his own costume? Then Luca turns to her, smiling.

  “What types of clothes are you interested in buying at the thrift shops?”

  “Oh, if I see any nice tops or blouses I might get some or a skirt but I’m not sure if I’ll find many short-ish skirts of my style, maybe a cardigan if I see a nice one. Though if I think of a character before then I’ll try to find some clothes that fit them too.” She pauses, smiling before saying, “What about you Luca?”

  “I’m not sure, it depends if I see any nice t-shirts with a cool design or a band I like, though I don’t think I’ll find any shorts that I’d be interested in.” His voice is low and smooth, refreshing like water on a hot day, which it luckily isn’t. It’s the perfect temperature which is great because she forgot to bring her water bottle from her locker. It’s nice and Lyric starts hoping they’ll come up here more often, the picnic bnket really was a smart and definitely valuable idea.

  In the warmth and light of the clear blue sky above them they eat and chat away the whole lunch and soon they’re having to pack up and run to csses, already a few minutes te. Lyric feels giddy with rare pure joy, it’s strange, having so many people to talk to and hang out with but Lyric can definitely get used to this. It’s brilliant and sparks hope inside Lyric for both the present and the future. Most of all it’s connection, like interwoven threads between them each created with shared interests and values, creating a tapestry of friendship and creativity like an intricate song with many threaded melodies and harmonies coming together to produce something unique and beautiful to be protected and nurtured.

  And Lyric would die a million times over before she’d let this song be destroyed.