Prologue In the small town of Wellsbury, hardly anything was there to be seen.

No really, every morning the sun rose, the childeren whent to school and the adults did whatever small town adults do in the day. Jeanine Rosenburg was no exception. She was the kind of girl that had enough friends to fill a baseball stadium (if there even lived that many people in Wellsbury), yet no one knew her name off the top of their heads whenever her name was mentioned. Though, she was quite pretty if you got a good look. Her sholderlength brown hair was always tied up in a messy pony tail, and the strands that came loose choose to wind chaotically around the frames of her glasses. What was most intriguing though, was that almost no one noticed her storm gray eyes, somewhere between sky blue and watery grey. However, for every Yin, there is a Yang. At the very same high school Jeanine attended, a boy thrived on his popularity, living by the name of Ando (Roandolus) Ibacchi. His name was known to everyone as the guitar god, master of classical and rock, and was cherished by the school's micro-sized music program, which supplied, believe it or not, it's very own fan club. He was, actually, what some might call eye candy, despite being the Yang of Jeanine. So, as you can see, there was a stark difference between Jeanine and Ando, but oh, fate had something else in mind. Chapter 1: First Encounter Man, what a crappy day so far... Yup, Jeanine was having one for sure. To begin with, a douche bad who wasn't paying attention spilled juice over the front of her plaid shirt and jeans, but to her utter most relief, she had a spare in her locker, which she shoved on with all but elegance in the girls' lavatory. Things seemed to be going on in a smoother manner from there, but man, as soon a the thought passed through her brain, the teacher decided to throw a pop quiz. Now, under normal circumstances, that wouldn't have been a problem, due to the fact the normally she would've listened to the teacher's drawl, but today she was completely wrapped up in her own thoughts, completely blocking his voice out. Completely. She scored zero out of fifteen, and earned detention for and hour after school. What made things worse, is that she had reserved a practice room for several hours for that specific day, and regulation calls that if the room is not occupied in fifteen minutes, then the reservation would be canceled. She cursed under her breath as the

bell rang for her last period of the day, and she was off in a dash to room 113. It still wasn't really a class, more like a club to most people, her seventh period that is. The ruling teacher, Mike Weller, was a music intern last year for his degree, and decided to work at this school temporarily. The "club" actually had high standards, so that's why there were so few of them in room 113. The participants had to be able to read sheet music to a varying degree of fluency, and know music theory such as chord progressions and intervals of sorts. Another requirement was ear-training. Jeanine was glad to be in the room now, even after the tedious events of the day (she still had to work out the after school problem though), and easily made herself at home in one of the worn down couches in the corner. It was not long before her friends (ones that were actually close) came along with their teacher. "How the hell did you get here so fast Jeanie?!" "Yeah! I know right? Hey do you have any food on you?" "Give me a break, Izzie, you just had lunch." "Nyaaaa! Just had! That was like... three hours ago! "Will you all just shut up!" "NOOOOOOOO!!!" The flurry of words could be heard from the end of the hallway, but in some ways, this was their special greetings to each other. Jeanine didn't bother looking up from her studies, Intervals and tone for the human voice, because she knew them all now by voice. Izzie, a cellist in the mini orchestra the school held, was always hungry, for literally anything, ranging from edible food, gossip, fist fights, arguments ect. The two boys, Sammy and Decklen, Sammy being the shorter and happier of the two. Though, when made to comparison with Decklen, Sammy was Mawkishly happy, mainly because of Decklen's extreme mood swings between enjoyable and cross disappointment. They both played drums, and lastly Mr. Weller, or Mike as they call him. Jeanine particularly liked this teacher because of his tendency to forget that they were only kids, despide it being annoying sometimes. He almost always joined in their banter, forgoing his title as teacher, and horse-playing with the likes. In this section of

class, they simply lounged around in the old teachers room, doing spare homework or quietly chatting, but because Jeanine managed to finish all hers during class, she bugged Mike for a chat. Well, more like a favor. Mike was in charge of the organization of practice rooms, so why couldn't he bump the time back an hour? "Hmmmmm... Well it kinda is your fault for flunking the pop quiz, but I suppose I could tweak the time for one of my students." Mike grinned at the water welling in the eyed of his pupil, and was soon smothered with a bear-hug from Jeanine. "Thanks so much! I spent almost three weeks sorting it out! I owe you!" To that he raised and eyebrow. "Three weeks? Why did you need to get a room so badly? I mean, you could of just waited for a room to open up for a few hours." Jeanine snorted with amusement at that statement, "And how many times has a kid given up his time the week?" "Good point." They left it at that for a few minutes, when finally mike got up and clapped his hands quite loudly. "Alllll Right Everyone! Gather up! Today we will be learning about the rules of chord..." and so on he droned. oooOooo Released from the hellish grips of detention, Jeanine skipped toward the right wing of the school. It was fairly newer than the rest of the school, and it resembled from the outside, a long curving hallway with boxes protruding from the sides. It gave off a shiny, white demeanor, and the same went with the inside as well. The interior was designed with a red carpet going all the way to the end of the hall with small bulbs of light directly above each door, which were about 10 feet apart each. A dozing secretary was stationed at the front desk, but Jeanine let his rest and just signed in on the clip-board presented on the square wall desk. So why would Jeanine need the practice room for a few hours? It was her very own secret, and only her parents knew. She was a singer. She loved it to the very bottom of her heart, but she feared what other people might think of her if they knew her likes and desires. Here's another thing, she someday hoped to be a professional singer.

oooOooo After about and hour of warmups, she began singing an old german opera simply because it was beautiful. The melodies and harmonies mingled and divided into vibrant colors, creating an imagery in her mind's eye of seas of grass and wheat. It went fairly high for her range, so she rehearsed the part over, and things progressed as usual, until her final song. Her mother requested that she sing for her grandmother's funeral, which she obediently agreed to do, and was given the piece. It was her grandma's favorite apparently, but in reality, Jeanine could not see any reason to favor it. It was truly a beautiful song, but it was so utterly depressing, that she found it hard to comprehend the melody as better than the lyrics. Still, she was asked of it, and she would not back down on her promise. She began the tape recorder, which contained the piano accoponent to her solo. A long time ago, she made a promise to sing with all her heart and emotions for every song, no matter if it was only a rehearsal, so reluctantly she brought of memories of bittersweet moments and sadness to fulfill the song's emotions. The beginning of the piece started with a tranquil feeling, but grew more violent and strained as the song moved on, it's tendrils of music stretched to reach outside the box, hitting, slamming, and battering down the walls, when finally with a sigh of relief it reached the eye of the storm, the final peace before the end. There it ended, with a single note, ringing out in the silence. But she was wrong. It wasn't silent. There was a soft flutter of sound, almost like leaves falling in from their branches. Where would that sound come from? She didn't bring any sheet music with her... the it dawned to her. She didn't lock the door. She trembled with fear, and slowly turned around. Who she saw and what she saw was unspeakable. There stood Ando Ibacchi with his guitar case in had and she watched in horror as a single tear rolled down his face.