Leo was six, and he loved sounds.

The clink of a spoon in a bowl.

The whoosh of wind through trees.

Even the *thump-thump* of his sneakers on the porch.

One sunny Saturday, Leo’s dad pointed to four big boxes.

“Band Day,” Dad said, smiling.

Leo’s tummy felt fizzy-excited.

At the Maple Street Community Room, Leo met his friends. Mina hugged a shiny red guitar case. Jules carried a bass guitar that looked like a long, sleepy fish. Arlo rolled in a drum set like a tiny parade, and Nia tapped a small keyboard on its stand.

They were all new at this. New instruments. New noises. New hopes.

Leo was the leader today because he had the idea. “Let’s make a band!” he said. He felt proud, but also a little scared. His throat felt tight, like a knot.

They opened the cases. Arlo’s drums smelled like fresh wood. Mina’s guitar strings shone like spider silk. Jules’ bass had thick strings, like heavy ropes. Nia’s keyboard had white keys and black keys.

“Like piano teeth,” Nia joked.

“Okay,” Leo said. “We play together!”

But when they started to play, a problem popped up. It didn’t sound like music. It sounded like pots and pans falling down the stairs.

Arlo went *BAM-BAM-BAM!*

Mina went *plink-plink-plinnk.*

Jules went *boooom… boooom.*

Nia pressed three keys at once and winced.

Leo clapped to help, but his claps got lost in the noise.

Everyone stopped. Mina covered her ears and giggled. Jules frowned. “I wanted it to sound like a song.”

Leo felt worried. His tummy felt wiggly. “What makes a song a song?” he asked.

Suddenly, a soft *clip-clop* came from the hallway. A gentle unicorn stepped in, white as milk. A small pegasus trotted beside him, his feathers sparkling like glitter.

“Hello,” said the unicorn.