set//elijah stevenson

chapter two

     Eli and I continued to meet in the library. That was our thing now. It actually felt pretty good having an 'our thing' with him. And, as the days passed, we only grew closer. I told Mitchell about him, of course, but he didn't seem to care very much. Mitchell didn't like people, which is where we connected. Eli liked people, he was very popular, but he didn't mind being around me, either. We found out we shared the same lunch period, and he sat alone with me, or in the library, if I wanted to go there. He even led the way to the door I exit the school from. Eli respected me a lot. And out of that respect, he told me he'd show up to my next game.

     So as I sat in the band room, bass clarinet assembled, uniform being a work in progress, I found Eli. He was leaning against a door frame, watching, amused, as I struggled to zip my jacket up. I smiled sheepishly, waving. He rolled his eyes, strolling over to me.

     "You look like you love assembling this uniform." He sarcastically stated, zipping me up. I blushed as his hand brushed my shoulder, and got a big, goofy smile on my face. 

     "Thanks.." I said, not making eye contact. He draped his arm over my shoulder, leading me back out to the main room, where my instrument was. Mitchell eyed us, giving me an evil eye. He didn't like when I drug people he didn't know into the band room. I hadn't done that since middle school, but he still gave me his 'warning eyes', as I called them, if so much as my mom walked in. 

     "I think your friend hates me," Eli whispered, nodding his head in the direction of Mitchell. You could tell Mitchell apart from all of us. He wore his black suit and top hat, also known as the drum major's uniform. 

     "Nah, he just doesn't like people coming into the band room. He's anxious, you get used to it." I explained, snorting. 

     "In that case, I'll see you in the bleachers, darling," Eli said, pushing the plume into my hat and then running off. I smiled, rolling my eyes and shaking my head. I jogged over to my seat at the far end of the right side of the third row. It was very important I remembered that. We were a big band, and sometimes people forgot things. I couldn't forget my seat and more importantly, I couldn't forget my dot. I always did mental checks about where I needed to start and finish my time I spent in the band room. Everything here, for me, was extremely precise. 

     "How many times do I have to ask you not to bring random people into the band room?" Mitchell asked, his arms crossed. He was giving me a strong glare, watching Eli, who was leaning on a post outside the band room, probably waiting for the line to die down (or, if he walked in with us, he would get in for free).

     "But he isn't random. He's Eli!" I groaned, setting up my flip folder. We weren't playing halftime tonight, but we were doing pep tunes, so I moved the folder so that those were in the front. Meanwhile, Mitchell was giving me a hard stare.

     "Don't bring random people into the band room," Mitchell repeated.

     "He let himself in, so chill out, dude." I barked. Mitchell backed off, shaking his head. I wasn't sure what his deal was, but I wasn't liking it. He showed a special disliking for someone who I've known for years without knowing it, and that was annoying. I liked Eli, and I didn't see what the problem was if he wanted to see me before a game.

     

     We lined up outside, getting in score. I was in the front, before the saxophones, and behind the clarinets. Eli was nowhere to be seen, probably already in the stadium. I shrugged it off, straightening my posture just a bit. I was the only member in my section, and I made sure to represent it well. There was something about being alone that made me feel important. No one to take my place. No one to compete with. It made me louder, stronger, and more confident.