Something with music

Hello! This is an untitled story by Stella Rosewood, please do not copy or edit. Thank you!
== Chapter 1 ==
=== Melody ===
I lay on the floor of my room, the carpet white and fluffy and soft underneath me. The ceiling is painted sky blue with a few white blobs as clouds. The light in my room I like to imagine as a sun, and a few music notes are also drawn in the “sky”. My eyes close as I relax, listening to my mother’s orchestra concerts from when she was in high school from my laptop. They are really good. 
Just so you know, music is a big thing in my life. You might’ve been able to tell. 
I’m not kidding. My parents are literally OBSESSED with music in all its forms. And because of that, my sister Harmony and I are basically expected to be in some type of music program as we get older. 
I’m not saying I don’t want to, or that I feel rebellious about this. I don’t. Music is a huge part of my life (mostly thanks to my mother and father) and I need it. I am the sort of person who doesn’t like big changes. 
But enough of that. Orchestra time. 
I roll over to lay on my stomach and prop my head up with my hands. My eyelids start to close gently, but the door to my room slams open with a loud bang. Of course, it’s my little sister Harmony. Her dark brown hair falls to her shoulders, and a few strands hang in front of her face and eyes. 
I groan. “What now, Har? You interrupted my music time.” 
Harmony knows how much I like my quiet time to listen to music. She still manages to do pretty well at being the annoying younger sister. 
“Mom wants you,” she says, swishing her hair behind her. She goes out into the hallway, then turns back to me. “Come on, Melody!” 
I push myself to my feet and follow my sister downstairs to the kitchen, where Mom is chopping tomatoes. A small pile of cut tomatoes sits on a paper towel, and a large pile of vegetable skin—I call tomatoes ‘vegetables’ because according to the dictionary, they’re basically eaten like one—lays on another. 
“These are more skin than food,” Mom sighs. She sets down her cutting knife as we come in. “Good. Melody, I have something to ask you.” 
Oh no. What could this be? 
“Have you listened to my old orchestra concerts yet? And your father’s? They’re on YouTube.” 
I inwardly groan. “Yes, Mom. I was just listening to your concert from 12th grade.” 
Mom smiles and clasps her hands together. “Good! Music is very important, after all.” 
I roll my eyes, and in the corner of one, I see Harmony does too. 
“We know, Mom,” Harmony says with a sigh. 
Mom frowns. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, you two!” 
Suddenly, the front door opens. It’s in the living room, so I can’t physically see it, but it makes this awful SCREEEEEECH noise whenever it gets opened, closed, or even with the slightest touch. Yeah, we need a new door. 
“What’s goin’ on?” asks a voice. It’s our dad. He comes into the kitchen with us and smiles. “What's up, kiddos?” 
“Mom was asking us if we watched her concerts yet,” Harmony replies. 
“And yours too!” I chime in quickly, my nervous gaze bouncing back and forth from my mom to my dad. They both love music, but if someone—including me and Harmony—starts picking a side (band or orchestra), they argue. For at least 10 minutes straight. 
“Go watch your father’s now,” Mom says to us and gestures back the way we came. “Then you can go outside for a little bit.” 
“Maybe you can make music with some things from outside,” Dad suggests. “That’s what I used to do when I was younger. I also drew things with sticks in the winter, when there was a lot of snow.” 
“I would grab a stick and pretend it was the bow of my cello,” Mom adds with a smile. There’s also a trace of wistfulness in her eyes, so she must be remembering those days. 
I want to play viola this school year in 6th grade, which is when students get to choose what instrument they want to play here in Nightila City, Canada. By the way, I do not know how to speak French, like some people in Canada do, but I might learn it when I’m in high school. 
“Anyway, enough talking! Go watch those concerts,” Mom instructs. 
I leave and go up the stairs to my room. My computer shut off while I was in the kitchen, so I scan my fingerprint to unlock it. I go on YouTube and find my dad’s band concerts. They’re good, but I still like orchestra better. However, I can NOT tell my parents because they’ll just start arguing. 
Harmony comes and sits next to me. “I’m bored,” she complains. “Let’s go play instruments with stick bows.” 
I smile in amusement and nod, standing up again to turn off the music. We head outside after pulling on a jacket. 
Harmony opens the patio door and holds it open so I can pass through. Chilly air blows into the house. “Thanks,” I say appreciatively. My sister just shrugs, but also smiles. 
I run around the backyard, my eyes on the ground. I need the perfect stick for my bow. Suddenly, two large sticks—perfect bow size—catch my eye. “HARMONY!” I shout. “I found some sticks!” 
She hares over to me, panting. “Where?” 
I point to the ground and we both pick one up. 
“Mine’s a viola,” I say and hold my arm up like I’ll need to when I actually start playing. I make the bow hold Mom taught me in my right hand and place it on the stick. Then I try playing. 
Harmony copies me. “Did you decide to play viola this year?” she asks. 
“Yeah,” I reply. I stare down at the dirt, thinking of my parents. “Don’t tell Mom and Dad yet. I don’t want them to argue.” I take my mind off the topic, thinking about how awesome orchestra is going to be. 
Harmony flips her sticks in her hand and bangs on some leaves with them. “Drums,” she explains. She smacks the leaves harder. “It’s fun. Maybe I could choose that for-” 
Suddenly, Mom shouts from inside, “Girls, come back in! There’s something I want to ask you!” 
Harmony and I share a worried look. Could Mom have heard me say what instrument I chose? And Har too? 
“Uh-oh,” I whisper and slowly walk towards the door.
== Chapter Two ==
=== Harmony ===
Coming soon