LHS Class of 01 Reunion '26

They settled on a contemporary indie track that held a melancholy chord progression but paired it with a driving bass line, a blend that Marc described as “old soul meets new heart.” The conversation turned to the overall flow of the night: “Start with something that greets them as they walk in—something warm, inviting,” Marc suggested, his tone gentle yet authoritative. He then outlined a progression that would begin with classic rock, ease into some soulful ballads, peak with an upbeat medley that would encourage guests to get up and dance, and finally end with a reflective acoustic song that would leave everyone feeling nostalgic but uplifted. As they debated each transition, they made note of potential crowd‑pleasers, like the song that had become an unofficial anthem for their graduating class, and ensured they had backup tracks in case a certain record failed to play. By the time they had compiled a preliminary setlist, the room had taken on a soft glow as the late‑day sun gave way to twilight, and the two friends sat back, satisfied but ever mindful that the final version would need a final polish before the reunion’s big night.

While Marc and Peter wrestled with the intricacies of the playlist, the sound of a car door closing resonated from the driveway, and Scott’s familiar voice rang out, “Hey, anyone home? I brought the soda!” He entered the house carrying two large cardboard boxes, each filled with a colorful assortment of glass bottles that clinked together as he navigated the narrow hallway. Scott’s cheeks were flushed from the chill of the early‑spring air, and his eyes brightened as he set the boxes down on the kitchen counter, the plastic trays inside already showing a thin layer of condensation that glistened in the light. “I figured we’d want a good variety,” he said, pulling out a bottle of classic cola and holding it up for Peter’s inspection. “This is the one that always saved us after those long basketball practices.” He then proceeded to unpack the rest of the haul: root beer, ginger ale, a few bottles of sparkling lemon‑lime soda, and—most impressively—several cases of an artisanal craft soda that Peter’s younger sister had discovered on a recent trip to the city. The room filled with the faint fizz as the bottles settled into their designated spots in the refrigerator, which Marc had already cleared out earlier in anticipation of the reunion. Scott’s meticulous attention to detail extended beyond simply providing refreshments; he had also brought an insulated cooler with ice packs, ensuring that even after being transported in the car, each bottle would be perfectly chilled by the time the guests arrived. “We can’t have warm soda at a reunion,” Scott laughed, his humor lightening the mood as he placed the last bottle in the fridge, the door closing with a soft click that seemed to seal the promise of a refreshing night ahead.

The refrigerator door swung open again, revealing the neatly arranged rows of soda bottles, their labels bright and inviting, each one a small invitation to a memory of teenage laughter and secret shared moments. Peter smiled at the sight, remembering how, back in high school, he and his friends would gather in the cafeteria after school, swapping sips of soda as they plotted weekend adventures or simply talked about nothing and everything under the fluorescent lights. “We should set up a little station,” suggested Scott, his voice echoing with the enthusiasm he had always carried into every project he touched. He pulled out a wooden serving tray, polished to a soft sheen during a recent garage sale, and set it atop the counter, arranging the bottles with care, spacing them just enough so guests could easily grab what they wanted without crowding each other.