Chapter 6: The School Band That Shouldn’t Exist

Yuna's POV

I had one job. One job.

And that was to stick with Erika so I wouldn't get lost like a clueless NPC in my own school.

But, of course, the universe had other plans.

One second, I was right behind her, weaving through the chaotic mess of students in the hallway.

The next? Gone. She turned a corner, and I, like the unfortunate soul I was, got swallowed by a stampede of students heading in the opposite direction.

"Wait—hold on—I'm supposed to go that way!" I tried pushing through, but it was like fighting against a current made of backpacks and questionable life choices.

By the time I broke free, Erika was nowhere to be found.

I stood there for a moment, mentally calculating my chances of survival. They were low.

Alright. No big deal. I could figure this out. All I had to do was—

Wait. Where was I?

I looked around. I didn't recognize any of this. When did the hallways get so long? Why were there suddenly fewer people? Why was the lighting so suspiciously dim?

This was fine. Everything was fine. I'd just keep walking until I found something familiar.

I took a turn, then another, and before I knew it, I was completely, hopelessly lost.

Then, because the universe wasn't done messing with me yet, I pushed open a random door, hoping it was an exit—

And walked straight into a band's practice room.

The moment I pushed open the door, I was not greeted by music.

No.

I was greeted by off-key instruments, screaming, and the unmistakable sound of suffering.

It was as if a pack of dying geese had formed a band and decided to hold a concert in a metal trash can.

I stood frozen in the doorway, processing the auditory crime happening before me.

Inside, a guy was aggressively strumming a guitar that was not in tune with reality. Another was smashing the drums like he was trying to summon the underworld.

A boy at the keyboard was hitting random keys with the precision of someone blindly stabbing a calculator. And, at the center of it all, someone was screaming into a mic. Not singing. Screaming.

The noise was so bad that my soul briefly left my body.

It was chaos. It was pain. It was probably illegal.

And then, they noticed me.

Everything stopped.

The drummer froze mid-air, drumsticks raised like he was about to commit another crime.

The guitarist slowly lowered his weapon—I mean, his guitar. The lead vocalist, who had been in the middle of what sounded like an exorcism, stared at me with wild eyes.

Silence.

I blinked. "Uh."

The drummer squinted. "Who the hell are you?"

"An innocent bystander," I said, gripping the door handle like it was my last lifeline.

They exchanged confused glances. The guitarist, who was still holding his guitar like it might explode, scratched his head.

"Is… is this the music club?" I asked, trying to buy myself some time.

The bassist, who had barely moved this whole time, gave me a long, judgmental look, but said nothing.

The lead vocalist, with her flaming red hair and a look that screamed 'pop diva,' seemed to snap out of her trance and straightened up.

"Are you a fan?"

"Nope." I almost cringed at my own response, but it was the truth.

The drummer, looking stressed beyond belief, waved his drumsticks in the air, clearly lost in his own world.

"Look, we're just... practicing for the event next week. Are you a musician?"

I hesitated. Should I lie? I wasn't even sure if they wanted an answer from someone who wasn't running for the hills.

"No, not really," I said, shrugging. "Just... here for the 'performance.'"

The guitarist turned to his bandmates and gestured dramatically, "She's got to hear the solos. You're gonna be blown away."

I gave him an unsure look. He was clearly in a delusional state.

The keyboardist, who was still typing away at random keys like she was preparing a ransom note, looked at me and asked earnestly, "Do you think the piano adds a touch of class?"

"Sure," I said, even though it sounded like a warzone.

The lead vocalist gave me a hopeful smile, but it faded as she saw the expression on my face. "Okay, okay, we're a work in progress, but you gotta admit—we've got talent."

The bassist rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. The only person who seemed completely chill about the whole thing was the drummer, who was tapping his sticks in a rhythm that didn't match anyone else's. But that was a minor miracle.

I shook my head slowly. "I really don't think you guys need me. I'm... not a professional."

The drummer's face lit up like a lightbulb flickering to life. "You could help us, though."

I backed away toward the door, my heart racing. This wasn't my scene. Not by a long shot.

"Help you with what?" I asked, already reaching for the handle.

"I think you're good, really."

The drummer gave me a pleading look that might have melted my heart if it weren't for the fact I was hearing music that could have killed someone.

"You could be our producer!"

"Producer?" I repeated, voice shaky.

"Do I look like I know what that even means?"

The guitarist nodded sagely, like it was the greatest idea in the world.

"It's like, uh, you tell us what sounds good, and what... doesn't."

"You mean—" I couldn't stop myself from laughing nervously.

"You want me to critique this… masterpiece?"

They all nodded, wide-eyed, hopeful.

I looked at them for a moment, my fingers still clutching the door handle, and I realized I was either the luckiest person alive or about to sign my death warrant by staying.

And then, for my own sanity, I made my decision.

"Okay, yeah," I said, backing out slowly.

"Maybe you should just, uh, keep practicing. I've got... things to do. Real things."

Before they could protest, I slammed the door behind me and didn't look back.

I thought I had escaped the chaos of the band room, but as I hurried down the hallway, still trying to shake the dissonant noises from my ears, I felt the familiar presence of someone behind me.

"Yuna!"

I turned around and saw Erika rushing toward me, her black shoulder-length hair bouncing with each step.

Her glasses were slightly askew, and her notebook was clutched tightly in one hand, as if she couldn't function without it. I could see the look of slight annoyance mixed with concern on her face.

"Erika," I sighed in relief. "You found me."

"I've been looking everywhere!" she huffed, adjusting her glasses as she caught her breath.

"I swear, I almost had to call the search-and-rescue team for you."

I couldn't help but smile. Erika was the responsible one—the one who always kept track of me when I wandered off, even if it was to escape something as crazy as a disaster band practice.

She was my self-appointed babysitter, and honestly, I was starting to appreciate it more than I cared to admit.

"Sorry, I got a little... sidetracked," I said, rubbing the back of my neck awkwardly.

"It's not my fault, though. I accidentally walked into a room full of musical chaos."

Erika raised an eyebrow, her eyes narrowing.

"A band?"

I nodded, wincing slightly as I replayed the scene in my mind. "Yeah, a band. They were... something else. The guitarist was strumming like his guitar was going to spontaneously combust, the drummer was smashing his drums like it was a competition, and the vocalist—"

I paused, shaking my head. "The vocalist was basically yelling into the mic. It sounded like they were trying to summon something from another dimension."

Erika's lips twitched, and I could see her holding back a laugh. "Oh no. That sounds like Leo's band."

"Leo?" I asked, suddenly curious.

"Leo Ramirez. The drummer," she explained.

"He's the one trying to run the band. Honestly, he's more passionate about it than the band is about being... a band. He's been begging people to join for weeks, but every time someone listens, they run screaming."

I couldn't help but laugh. "Sounds about right. He kept trying to convince me to help them. I swear, it's like he saw me as his last hope."

"That sounds about right, too," Erika muttered, shaking her head.

"He's... determined. And let me guess, he probably asked if you wanted to join, didn't he?"

"Yep. And I lied my way out of it. Told him I had no musical talent at all."

"Good thinking." Erika's face softened slightly, but I could tell she was still concerned.

"But seriously, Yuna, you need to be careful about where you wander off to. You never know what's going to happen."

I shrugged nonchalantly. "It's fine. I made it out alive."

Erika folded her arms, giving me her signature look of gentle reprimand.

"One of these days, your random wandering is going to get you into real trouble."

Before I could respond, Erika glanced at the time on her phone. "Anyway, come on. We should get back to class before we miss anything important."

With a sigh, I nodded. "Yeah, yeah. Lead the way, responsible one."

Erika rolled her eyes but smiled at the nickname. As we walked down the hallway back toward class, she kept talking about the latest school gossip, but my mind was still half on the disaster I'd just stumbled into.

Somehow, though, I had a feeling this wasn't the last time I'd end up tangled in the mess that was Leo's band. Erika had a way of dragging me into things I didn't want to be a part of. I had no doubt that before long, she'd probably be their manager—or worse, my manager.

At least for now, though, I could enjoy the fact that I'd survived the most awkward situation of the day.

To be continued.