"Andy." He gasped that day. "I have the best idea."
He was breathing heavily, kneeled over as if he'd run here. Here being the middle of the hallway, him being Elijah Miller.
"Oh yeah?" I answered, distracted by the list of homework I was reciting as I dug through my locker.
Taking one last deep breath as he leaned against the locker door, he said, "Me, you, Raj. Jam session." He grinned like it was Christmas morning and I refrained from rolling my eyes.
I groaned exasperatedly, "What an awful idea."
I had only known Elijah for a few months now, but from the moment we met at the beach last summer, he took it upon himself to be my first -and only- friend. He had a habit of enthusing about anything and everything he could.
He stood his ground, albeit he looked a bit wounded. "Why not? You are a wizard with those vocals, dude. Angels weep."
Last Friday, I had made the unfortunate mistake of drinking too much at Henry Dodger's party; so instead of stumbling home to wallow in self-hatred, I instead decided on... karaoke.
"Raj hits those drums like it's whack-a-mole, and I happen to know someone who has been bestowed with wicked fret skills." He did a solo with an air guitar and suddenly smacked the lockers, making me jump. "You know what that makes, Andy!?"
"An over-enthusiastic Eli?"
"A motherfucking band, dude!"
"A mothereffing...." I whispered in disbelief.
"Band?" Someone wondered, and like a dog who smells bacon, the infamous Dodger boys suddenly appeared.
"Duude!" Henry Dodger exclaimed. "Y'all are in a rock band?"
"Sure as hell!" Elijah said before I could protest.
"That's bad ass!" Henry's brother, Jack, exclaimed.
"What d'ya call yourselves?"
"Nonexistent." I chirped in before Elijah said something along the lines of, "Burning Butterflies".
"Aaaw, Andy," Elijah whined. "Give it a chance." He gave what I call his "boy band scowl", crossing his arms and peeking at me through his eyelashes.
It was usually very effective, I must admit. This time last year, I would have jumped on the idea (and maybe him) like fire. But this time last year I was also a huge asshole, so that must say something.
"Eli, no offense, but I'd rather not jam with Raj fucking Malik."
"What's wrong with Raj fucking Malik?" Jack asked.
Let's see now, he's the school's greatest cliche, the quarterback with the head cheerleader glued to his side. Yet simultaneously, he manages to be the pretentious nerd who likes to snidely correct anyone on even the slightest inaccuracy. He's also a few levels above perfection, so that's a thing.
"His voice annoys me," I answered instead.
Eli shrugged. "Yeah, well, it is kinda nasally."
Henry clapped my back hard enough to make me lose my breath for a moment. "But that man is a beast. He came outta his mama drummin', I shit you not."
I shivered at that imagery.
"Come on, Andrew. You're always complaining about how boring life is." Jack messed my hair up and gave me a shove in what he must have considered an amiable gesture, but actually kind of pissed me off.
I imagined a Dodger family reunion, all of them slapping and tackling each other like a bunch of monkeys. They probably said "I love you" by breaking your nose.
"Yeah, if you weren't ready for small town life, why are you here?" Henry pondered.
I avoided that common question like I avoid mostly everything. I pretended I didn't hear it.
I sighed. "If I agree to this, will you let me go home?"
Eli seemed to stop himself from squealing excitedly. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." But his mind was already set on Madison Square Garden and the Grammy's.
"Also, I will not apologize for whatever injury I may cause to Malik's person and/or mental health."
"I dunno, man," Henry said. "I'm pretty sure that guy benches mountains."
I refrained from telling them the story of how I fought half of a dozen college football players with a stapler and a wooden spoon while concussed and stoned out of my mind.
"Tomorrow, 5 o'clock-ish?" Elijah suggested. "I'll pick you up?"
I shrugged. "Whatever, man."
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