Alright. Since this is modern, there will be slight swearing in later chapters... not in this chappy, though. I don't like to cuss… but it just seemed wrong without it. Which is why it's rated T. Seriously… if you're, like, ten or something, don't read T rated stories. All it'll get you is reading words that you're not supposed to read. 12 and up… because I think twelve year olds get shoved down into the kids' department because they aren't a teen yet, but still act and think like one.

Xxx

Just because one door has closed, doesn't mean another one isn't going to open.

Open Doors

CHAPTER ONE: The Boy at the Park

Aang looked out the dust-covered window of the Amtrak train. His sketchbook was in his lap, opened, a blank sheet waiting to meet his pencil. But he had no inspiration. He couldn't think of anything except the move.

Oh, wait. The TWELFTH move. In the last FIVE years.

He tugged on his maroon toboggan, and continued to stare out at the dozens of pedestrians hogging the streets. There were lots of corner shops and cafes. It wasn't exactly a big town… but it sure was populated. They passed a skate park, and he could see dozens of teens on boards, cycles, rollerblades, ripsticks. Past that was a whole line of little stores, all connected, surrounding a huge white building, which Aang had assumed was the townhouse. There were too much rinky-dink wannabe businesses. He could see a Krispy Kreme, and some kind of fancy boutique. Oh, look! They even had their own ice cream shop. How quaint!

NOT.

"Aang?" Gyatso asked from beside him, looking up from his novel. "You okay?"

"Just peachy." The fifteen year old gritted his teeth in aggravation.

The old man simply sighed, and returned to his book.

Aang puffed a piece of dark brown hair that had escaped his toboggan. He desperately wanted to tear through the last few cars, grab one of his many guitars, and start playing. Music always seemed to soothe him. Any kind of art did… but the guitar especially.

He was good at sketching, sure, hence the pad in his lap. He was into it even before he was into music. But it just didn't seem to satisfy him like the rhythm and beat of the melodies he himself created by just plucking a couple strings.

He licked his lips, and shoved his hands in the pockets of his mustard yellow jacket. One of these days, he's going to turn eighteen, and live the life he wants. Music.

Xxx

Aang gripped his steaming caramel latte, weaving through mothers with their strollers and gossiping old ladies with tweed coats and little yippy Chihuahuas(or, as he called them "annoying barky rats").

He sipped his coffee, hood drawn up over his toboggan to keep his ears warm. His fingerless gloves wrapped themselves around the warmth of his Styrofoam cup (Starbucks. Where else on earth would he go?).

He arrived in a park. Even though it was chilly, there were lots of people hanging out, talking, playing with dogs. It looked so lively and busy. He nearly toppled a rich-looking man reading a newspaper, and a couple running after a small brown puppy.

Aang sat on a stone bench, and took a swig of his latte. He was facing a half-frozen fountain on a wide circle of cement, and there were a bunch of women on laptops, college kids doing essays. He looked skeptically over at a group of kids playing hopscotch.

Hopscotch! That strolled right along with yo-yos and knitting pink sparkly sweaters. Those kids obviously didn't know about the three little letters that made every teen's day; PSP.

He wished he could go home and pick at his guitar, but Gyatso insisted he have a look around town.

"Who knows?" The old man had said. "Maybe you'll meet some new friends!"

Yeah. Like that was ever gonna happen.

Aang had a total of two friends at his last location; Denver, Colorado. His only buddies were Kuzon and Bumi. He loved Denver. If he could stay in one place for the rest of his life, it would be Colorado.

"Helloooooooo, Davis, California!"

He looked up. There was some gangly teenager in a gray sweatshirt holding an electric blue guitar, standing on the edge of the fountain with an amplifier on the ground and an open case in front of him. He had an ear-to-ear grin, and the perky ponytail on the top of his head bobbed as he nodded happily at the crowd.

People who were walking by looked up, and some even cheered.

The guy waved his hand to the crowd, and adjusted his guitar strap. "Some kinda cold front we're having, aren't we? Who expected this, when we're famous for our raging temps and sweat-your-friggin-pits-off heat waves?"

Aang set his latte down beside him, and leaned back into the bench, throwing his arm over the back of the seat. Well, this is something you don't see every day.

The dude with the amp licked his lips, and positioned his instrument in front of him. "Well, I'm gonna play for you all. Tips appreciated… especially since I have to buy groceries for my sister, and ended up spending it all on Game Informers!"

Laughter rippled across the many passing pedestrians. Aang chuckled a bit, himself. He decided he liked this guy.

The teen in the gray jacket took a deep breath, and said, "I wrote this piece myself. No lyrics. Crap, I can't carry a tune in a bucket with a lid." More snickers from the crowd. "But I call the song Variation."

Then he launched into the opening riff.

Aang nearly fell off of the bench. He was good! There were so many notes, all different sounds and melodies… Aang could see why he called it Variation. There was so much variety! One minute, he was playing a soft, slow tune, and then it glided into a hardcore rhythm, the sound echoing throughout the park.

When the teenager plucked the last few chords, a couple people dumped some coins and bills into the case, but only a few. The teenager looked down into the black velvet lining, and his smile melted when he saw the amount of money. About fifteen quarters, two dollar bills, and three pennies tossed in by some kid.

Completely abandoning his coffee, Aang rushed over and dug through his pocket for spare change. He counted out three ten dollar notes, and tossed them in the box.

The guy looked up and swallowed. "You… you gave me thirty bucks, man."

"I know plenty well how much I gave you."

The teen's eyes widened a bit. "You liked it that much?"

Aang stared at him in disbelief, his jaw agape. "Dude, that was awesome! That is like, the first time I've ever heard a kid my age play that well!"

"You play, too?"

"Since I was six."

The guitarist burst out into an ear-to-ear grin, his blue eyes sparkling with wonder. "No way! I've been playing since I was nine!"

Aang sat down beside the boy's huge amplifier. "How old are you?"

The dude smirked, and plopped down beside him, gathering up the money in his case before setting his guitar inside and snapping the latches closed. "Generally, people ask the other person's name before questioning how old someone is."

"Okay, then. What's your name?"

The teen dumped some coins into his hand, and shoved them into his pocket. "Sokka." He began to count out the bills, each little piece of paper making a little whisking sound as he calculated the amount.

Aang tugged on his toboggan. "I'm Aang."

"Cool." Sokka unplugged his amplifier, and wrapped up the long, faded orange extension cord. "I'm sixteen, since you asked." Sokka grinned at him. "Do you know any good songs?"

"Oh, God. I know so many, I can't find any decent ones anymore."

"Same here! All other songs that have electric guitar are crappo pop junk." He picked up the heavy-looking black amp, and nodded to the guitar case. "Do you mind helping me haul that to my Dad's store? I trust you won't run off with it."

"No problemo."

Xxx

Sokka nodded towards a corner shop with a black sign and white script reading, Lunar Records. "That's it."

"You're dad owns a music store?"

Sokka grinned over at him. "Yeah." He cocked an eyebrow. "You like?"

Aang's whole mind filled to the brim with excitement. "Are you kidding? I'm gonna, like, worship the ground you walk on! It would be so friggin cool to have a whole music shop to yourself."

He shrugged. "Ah, it gets lonely. And kind of annoying."

"Why would it be annoying?"

Sokka adjusted the amp in his arms. "Well, I'm not the only musician in the family. My sister plays a little bass, but her real profession is piano. She's constantly banging away at the old Baldwin in one of the back rooms." He dodged an old lady and her Pomeranian, barely making the curb. "She sings a bit, too, but only because of the lyrics that go with her sheet music."

Sokka shifted his load onto one hip, and pushed open the glass door. "Katara? Dad? You guys here?"

Silence.

The teenager groaned, and plunked the amp onto a nearby table. "Great. Dad must've gone to the diner, and forgotten to lock the door, for the fifth time." He paused, one brow cocked, as if listening for something. "Huh. No piano playing. She must've realized I splurged the money on magazines again."

Aang set Sokka's guitar down beside the amplifier, and strolled over to the many CD racks. He began to flip through them, occasionally picking out one and studying it before putting it back into the stack. "Wow. You guys have a lot of music here."

"Yeah, I guess. Whaddya like?"

Aang plucked a Paramore CD from the pile. "Oh, Nickelback, Incubus, Theory of a Deadman…" he shrugged. "The list goes on and on."

Sokka turned abruptly from the front desk, his eyes once again wide and excited. "No. Friggin. Way. Those are some of my favorite bands!" He ran over to a guitar rack, picked up a white Les Paul, and held it out to his fellow guitarist. "Here. Take the Les Paul. I haul the amp to the back, and we can jam."

Aang took the guitar'll, and eyed Sokka. "You sure?"

"Well, you can't break the strings. If you do, my dad'll be ticked."

"'Kay."

Xxx

Next thing Aang knew, he was leaning back in a rickety old fold-out chair, his bright orange Converse All-Stars propped up on a stool, strumming his way through the Breaking Benjamin song Lights Out.

When he ended with the last riff, Sokka leaned back on the wooden crate he was sitting on, and shook his head in disbelief. "Wow. You're… just… wow."

"Am I seriously that good?"

"Jeez, man, you're awesome! That was better than I could ever wish I could do."

Suddenly, there was a slam, and a flash of blue and dark brown hair accompanying the crinkling of plastic bags. A figure dashed behind him, and he nearly fell off of his chair in surprise. Before he knew it, the door to a different back room was shut, and there was a yell. "Sokka, make sure you don't snap the strings on the Gibson again!"

The teen next to him groaned. "Yeah, yeah." He jabbed his thumb toward the noise. "That was my sister. She usually handles the store when Dad's not around."

"Cool."

All of a sudden, he felt a subtle vibration on his thigh. He sighed, and pulled his black Verizon Venus out of his jeans pocket.

He glanced at the screen. A text from Gyatso.

Come on home. Dinner's here. Bring a pack of baking soda.

"Crap." Aang shoved his phone back in his pocket, and handed over the guitar. "Thanks, man. Really appreciate it."

"Why do ya have to go?"

Aang swallowed, and stood up, tugging on his toboggan. "Gotta go have dinner and get some baking soda." He huffed through his teeth. "Great. I have to walk all the way back to the grocery store."

Sokka gave him a wide grin, and leaned the guitar next to the crate. "Hold on a sec." He trotted into the door that his sister had disappeared into, and he heard a muffled cry. "Hey! Where's the baking soda?"

He heard a female- pitched reply. "I have a name, you know."

"Whatever. Where is it?"

"In the cabinet. What do you need it for?"

There was a pause. "Uh… science project."

"Sokka, it's in the middle of Christmas break."

"I just so happen to have a project due over this specific period of time."

Aang chuckled.

"Ah-huh. Sure. Just take it." There was a little sigh. "I have plenty other bags."

Sokka burst back through the door, a multi-colored package in his hands. "Thanks, sis!"

Aang shook his head at the paper bag in his hand, backing up and waving a hand in polite rejection. "No, I'm fine… you don't have to…"

"My treat." Sokka held out the baking soda.

"But…"

"Dude. It's baking soda. Take it."

The tobogganed teen licked his lips, and hesitantly grasped the pack in his hands. "Thanks, man. I owe you one."

Sokka slapped him on the back, hard. He stumbled forward a bit, trying to regain his balance. "No prob. Hey, how about we shoot some hoops tomorrow? My friend and I were just gonna do it, but you can come if you want to."

Aang's face exploded with a huge grin. "Y-Yeah! That would be awesome!"

"Alright. Gimme your number."

After the two boys had exchanged their cell numbers, Aang was on his way home, his nose high in the air and a spring in his step. Hopefully, maybe, possibly he had made a new friend.

Xxx

Sorry. Kinda short. I already have two other multi-chaptered stories going, but trust me, they're coming along. :) Hope you enjoyed it!

Oh. My. Gosh. You… you see that? Down there? The little… yeah! The little button that says "review this chapter" on it? Click it. Wonderful things might be in store for you. Perhaps… maybe… a super awesome chapter! WOOT! *flail* XD