(Remember to edit kids. Do as I say, not as I do)

 Small, youngin of a bean Colin stuck out the tip of his tongue in concentration, moving the paintbrush clutched in his hand with meticulous movements. A bit of red here...go along the purple theeerrree...don't let it mix in with the yellow thERE WHOOPS-

He glanced around nervously, as if someone was waiting just underneath the kitchen table to point out his mistake. He blotted out the mishap and repainted the spot, mixing the red in with the blue in just the right places.

The kitchen was empty except for him, being left along to his devices with a table half covered in paint supplies and melodic country music playing from the radio on the counter. The walls were plastered with posters, as well as framed pictures of mostly Justin, a few having Colin right by him.

Justin, his dear friend, who was supposed to have gotten home half an hour ago. After Colin had already let himself into his room to set up their video game! That took so much time! (Read: it only took him 1 minutes and 37 seconds) Now he was alone in the Steward's kitchen with the paint supplies he kept at the house. It was much easier than lugging his art bag back and forth every day.

The screen door banged open and Willy Ray trudged in, holding the door open for his son who was weighed down by a guitar case. Justin grinned at him as soon as he stepped inside, running awkwardly with 13 pounds on his back.

"Justin! Wow you're slow, I've been waiting for hours." Colin picked up his painting gingerly, sprinting to meet his friend across the kitchen. He knocked his head into Justin's shoulder in a 12 year old's own way of greeting then held up the paper, smiling with pride.

"Look Mr. Steward! I drew you up on the stage, with all the lights and the sound boxes that make your music go all BOOM! And look, look!" He pointed at a sporadically shaped figure behind the singer. "I even drew Justin up there with you!"

Justin's face grew red, but Willy just chuckled and ruffled Colin's hair. "Aww now that looks great, kid! I'm sure this'll come to fruition one day. Why don't we put this up on the Fridge O' Fame where it belongs?"

He stuck the painting up on the fridge door with a bulky, yellow 'L' magnet, dangling right along side Justin's latest report card and a note from his music teacher. Some droplets of yellow masquerading as stage lights smeared and fell gracefully down the page, leaving streaks of light around Willy Ray.

"Looks nice up there, don't it Justin?"

"Sure it does, dad," Justin said, shifting the guitar on his back in a terrible attempt to not let them see the embarrassment still pertinent on his face. He glanced at Colin's hopeful bouncing and chuckled, knocking into him and not pointing out his poorly-hidden hiss of "Yess" like the good friend he was.

"Now you kids go on upstairs so Justin can practice. Colin," Willy pointed at him, feigning seriousness, "you make sure he gets to practicing, alright son?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Yes, daaad."

Willy grinned and shooed them away. As he started moving the paints to one side, he gazed at the painting on his fridge and sighed happily with content.

The two kids finished setting up the game and the kids sat on the futon in front of the T.V. Colin bounced in his seat, holding the plastic, colorful guitar while Justin tuned his wooden solid one. The game popped up and Colin snuck a glance at his friend before clicking Most Played then the first song labeled Montana.

Justin looked up as the beginning lines of the song played on the title screen and laughed under his breath. "Really Colin?" he asked, pretending to be annoyed.

"You dad didn't say what you had to practice."

He paused, looking between his acoustic settled on his lap and the stairs. Colin nudged his knee, repeatedly, until he finally relented and grabbed the remote. "You're right," he said, pressing play and letting the edited song chords come on screen. He picked up his pick and they shared a grin.

Colin dramatically hit the color-coded fret buttons, jamming down the strum bar every chance he got while singing along with the small print lyrics streaming along the bottom. Justin just grinned and picked at his own frets, humming along. It was the equivalent of a xylophone being played with a teaspoon alongside the beating of a toy hammer against a plank of dull wood.

But the smiles and stifled snickers at every sharp blare the game made at the expense of Colin's mistakes was worth the scolding from Willy later.