Chapter Text
Eddie spent the weekend before his senior year eating dinner with his uncle, his show choir director, and her two sons.
This was technically an upgrade from the summers of his youth. Infinitely better than the ones that his dad turned down his request to go to music camp and instead taught him how to hotwire cars and subtly shoplift. Probably a step up from the last two, when he dragged his ass through summer school, because moving ranks from useless burnout to gifted but troubled meant that adults didn’t just let him repeat grades for eternity like the olden days.
The summer before his senior year was more of an attempt at rehabilitating his image. A Hail Mary pass to undergraduate admissions throughout the midwest to make them consider some kid from nowhere Indiana who had a cliched bad start at life. Reformed drug dealer turned bored general store clerk. Former garage band guitarist now rising senior of the competitive mixed show choir group the Treble Tigers.
Eddie didn’t really have his hopes up. And yet, he still devoted his summer to essay workshops and an occasional college tour. The odds might have been stacked against him, but there was a slightly higher chance that he could be the first person in his family to go to college. Way closer than his uncle’s generation. If he kept his expectations in the dirt he couldn’t be disappointed.
At least everybody eased up on the college talk for tonight. This was supposed to be the deep breath before the insanity of the school year rolled in. So Eddie made his way through a portion of homemade meatloaf and mashed potatoes, wondering if anybody was going to notice that the director’s oldest son, Jonathan, and he totally took a hit or two from a bong hiding halfway in Jonathan’s closet beforehand.
The youngest son was definitely staring at him, but Eddie had a pretty innate ability to determine why someone was staring. This was definitely the I think I’m like you but I can’t tell if I can cope with that yet look. Eddie might as well try to be nice to him.
“You gonna try out for the Treble Tigers, Will?” Eddie asked.
Will nearly jumped in his seat. Even with some puberty progress made, he still looked a bit like a haunted doll. Big eyes, hand me downs he already grew out of, a bowl cut that was somehow worse than the uneven buzzcut Eddie’s uncle gave him for most of middle school. Eddie felt for the kid. This wasn’t exactly a town known for its tolerance in any sense of the word.
“Uh, I know Dustin, Lucas, and Mike were talking about it,” he said softly. “I’m still deciding.”
“Leave the kid alone, Ed,” Eddie’s uncle grumbled.
“I’m just making smalltalk. Relax, Wayne,” Eddie said, crossing his arms. “Look, totally respect if you don’t want to try out, because Joyce is the director. But I think you’d have a lot of fun if you joined.”
The problem was that all the rehabilitation efforts worked. He liked having goals and trying to meet them. He even started his own club, which was really an excuse to run a Dungeons & Dragons group with some kind of budget. Hellfire Club was always going to have his friends in it, so that would be fine, but show choir was an entirely different beast. Core members of the group graduated last year and while the idea of three to four freshmen getting added would certainly help, that didn’t mean they’d make it to nationals. Not that they were ever really in contention for nationals, but you gotta be in it to win it or whatever.
“Yeah, I’m definitely thinking about it,” Will replied.
“Absolutely no pressure, of course,” Joyce added, beaming between bites of meatloaf. “I’ll love you no matter what.”
Jonathan raised his eyebrows, Eddie swallowing down the impulse to make a snide remark. It was a classic Joyce sentiment, the corny sincerity being clear to everybody but her.
It was that exact corny sincerity that yanked Eddie onto this weird path he started skulking down sophomore year of high school. Joyce was the tired, but wide eyed new choir director, trying to revive the dormant show choir that she was a part of in her youth. Eddie was just some kid playing guitar in her homeroom. And sure, he could blame it all on his unattended mommy issues. Some older dark eyed brunette woman said he was talented and the irony was definitely not lost on him regarding that. But three years later he knew better than to only blame it on that. So when she told him that she needed musicians for the future show choir’s live accompaniment, he said sure. When she overheard him singing along to parts of the set, she ordered him to try out and he did.
The thing was that Joyce was the only adult aside from Wayne who saw him as something beyond the reputation. After having a family that lived in this town for several generations, he had to deal with his last name being weighed down by his father’s armed robbery charges and now his own morally questionable judgment. So yeah, this was going to be a bit of a Joyce said jump and Eddie asked how high situation.
“So do I get to know what the set is yet?” Eddie asked.
“The only other person who gets to know that is Jonathan, you know that,” Joyce replied.
Eddie immediately turned toward Jonathan, slamming his hand on the table with enough force that the plates jumped.
Jonathan just rolled his eyes. “No way, man. You’ll find out next week with everybody else.”
“Can I at least get a hint?” Eddie demanded.
“Classic, but not too old,” Jonathan said, unphased by the primal yell that Eddie let out. “I can’t give you actual hints, you know too much music to figure it out.”
“Can I at least know if we’re going with show tunes or not?” Eddie asked.
“No show tunes,” Jonathan replied.
“Really?” Eddie asked, turning toward Joyce. “We’re really bucking the system this year, aren’t we?”
Joyce just shrugged, a twinkle in her dark eyes.
The problem with Eddie was that he liked knowing things, frequently to an obsessive degree. Music, tabletop gaming, really obscure fantasy series the local librarian hadn’t even heard about. Show choir became no different, especially when months of his life were devoted to it. After attending a few competitions, he began to pick up on the tropes associated with each group’s twenty minute set. There were fast songs to show off choreography, slow songs to pad costume changes, and attempts at conveying narratives through acting and movement. Many of the directors favored show tunes, because they were an easy enough transfer to a group performance. Sometimes a director wanted to try something by mashing together two songs, but they were never as interesting as Eddie wanted them to be.
The thing was that Eddie just really liked music. Yes, he had his favorite genres and dressed as such, but when a musician was good they were good. If it made Eddie want to learn the guitar part or sing along, then they achieved something that defied his opinion on the genre they originated from. It’s what Wayne taught him when he would play folk records during the time Eddie was still a skittish middle schooler when he moved in with Wayne. It’s what Joyce affirmed when she gave him a CD of the original cast recording of Pippin, winking when she let him know that the Leading Player could be played by anybody regardless of gender.
Sure, show choir was not remotely cool. He definitely had countless critiques regarding the way it was ran and how fucking expensive it got. But it was in many ways the best way for him to express his love for music, so here he was.
“I’ll give you another hint,” Joyce said.
“What?” Eddie asked.
“You better not mess up your audition, because I think you’re really going to want the slower song we worked into it,” she replied, giving him a wink.
*
Here’s the thing about making tangible progress: it really didn’t change anything about being a student at Hawkins High School.
The place was still a fucking dump and Eddie resented the kid who panicked when they set a fire in the girl’s bathroom a few years back. He needed something, anything, to disrupt the systems that this place has been tethered to for at least since Joyce and Wayne walked down the same not so hallowed halls.
Eddie didn’t think he’d end up caught up in small town politics. His dad apparently hated anything resembling a quiet life, preferring to have them live in cramped apartments throughout Indianapolis. Eddie was so used to how loud a cityscape was he spent the first few weeks in Hawkins lying down in bed with his eyes wide, the air too still for him to be lulled to sleep.
But he got yanked into politics, whether he wanted to or not. Teachers read off his address on the blue card he had to fill out every year and they boxed him as trailer trash, even if they refused to admit it to his face. Toss in the fact that he was constantly drawing attention to himself, sometimes for things he didn’t really understand, he was not meant to thrive under these conditions.
At least senior year came with some perks. He had a spot in the parking lot, though he would have loved to be a little closer to the building. He also didn’t have to do gym class, so he could avoid that whole shitshow. Now it was just a matter of getting through the first day, evading the packs of scared freshmen who were looking absolutely terrified at his all black ensemble and the red and silver embellishments hanging off his pants.
“Wait, is that him? Eddie!” a kid yelled across the din, Eddie deciding to be polite and stop. When he turned around he noticed a quartet of tiny freshmen surrounding him, Will toward the center of the group as his big eyes focused on the boy who had yelled Eddie’s name.
“Way to tank your reputation during hour zero,” Eddie teased, making no effort to abandon them.
The problem with moving around constantly was that Eddie never really knew what it was like having a core group of friends for longer than a few years. It didn’t really bother him until he joined show choir, when Joyce would bring a younger Will to rehearsals. The kid usually had one to three other boys hang with him, Eddie eventually absorbing their names. Dustin, the loudmouth who Eddie couldn’t help but see himself in. Lucas, the one who seemed to have talents outside of the nerdy shit they were into, though it was hard to say if he would give into the temptation of them. Mike who was so prickly, but was willing to do anything for his friends when it got rough.
Eddie had to remind himself that there was no way in hell he would ever have a childhood like that. Being declared a weird girl at birth, he knew he wasn't meant for summers riding bikes with the boys or, well. Anything substantial with the boys. Or anybody, really.
But at least these kids had each other. And they watched Eddie loving his interests so ardently and getting vocal features like some kind of aspirational idea of what a man could be. So, yeah. He was going to be nice to these kids.
“Our reputation is fine, dude,” Dustin said. “We got you and Steve Harrington looking out for us.”
“Steve Harrington, huh?” Eddie asked, rolling his eyes. “You really think that guy is gonna give you a passing glance now that you’re in his kingdom? Please… Mike, didn’t he date your sister?”
Mike sighed, his entire body rocking in the process. “He’s changed, dude. Seriously. Though he did tell Dustin to flat iron his hair, which is why he’s got this shit going on…” He flicked Dustin’s head, Dustin screeching before shoving him.
Eddie raised his hand. “Whoa, hey, chill. Relax. You’re high schoolers now. Reel it in a little bit.” Dustin glared at him while Lucas shrugged. “Anyway, just… be careful. You don’t want to get burned by a guy like that.”
Small towns meant big last names and the last thing Eddie wanted to do was get involved with any of them. Harrington had a certain amount of clout, because they not only had enough money to live in the richer section of town called Loch Nora, but they could also build an ugly looking contemporary house fit to their specifications. Steve was totally the kind of kid who was well aware of his privilege and did nothing good with it. He evaded noise complaints and speeding tickets with boyish charm and his claim to local fame as the captain of both the basketball and swim team.
Sure, it was hypocritical for Eddie to suggest that some people can’t change, but why would Steve want to? He had everything he could ask for staying the same.
The overhead speakers crackled, a bored secretary in the main office announcing that the freshman orientation was starting in fifteen minutes.
“Good luck, guys,” Eddie said, spinning on his heel before he walked toward the senior lockers. He quickly looked over his shoulder adding, “I better see you at the club fair!”
Admittedly, bumping into the kids gave him a bit of a pep in his step. So much so that he gave a huge wave when he saw his bandmates gathered along the lockers, charging over toward them.
For all the rough starts in his childhood, he did end up falling into a group of friends well enough in middle school. It probably helped that all of them had musical proficiency and zero social clout. While most of their gigs were show choir invitationals at this point, there were the occasional evenings that they could be Corroded Coffin. Yes, that was the band name they decided on in middle school. No, they were not going to change it. Everybody loves alliteration.
It was nice seeing everyone again, especially because most of them had parents with enough income to spend the last few weeks of summer on vacation. Their drummer, Gareth, was sporting a nice sunburn across his nose and Jeff, their lead guitarist, was totally wearing a fresh band shirt from a show he was able to see when he was visiting Chicago. Meanwhile, Freak, whose name was definitely Frank, but Eddie heard it wrong at first, so it stuck, was wearing one of those shell necklaces you got at the beach. That was kind of gay, but Eddie really didn’t know if he swung that way. Best not put someone on the path to queerness when they weren’t ready.
“What’s got you in such a good mood?” Gareth asked. He still went through with a somewhat complicated handshake they made a few years back.
“Gareth, it’s my last year in this shithole. Why wouldn’t I be in a good mood?” Eddie asked.
“If you don’t have a meltdown halfway through the day we’re going to start thinking the demon possession rumors are true,” Jeff grumbled, still offering a more simplified handshake.
“Speaking of demon possession…” Freak said, tilting his head toward the opposite end of the hall. “Jason Carver’s approaching.”
Everybody stayed in place, their eyes following Freak’s directive. Sure enough, athletic darling Jason Carver was walking down the hall, tossing his arms across his impossibly tiny girlfriend Chrissy Cunningham. They were both dressed to impress, Jason wearing a douchey polo with the logo embroidered on his chest and Chrissy was wearing a dainty pink cardigan that covered the exposed skin her hip hugging jeans would have left. Jason noticed them, immediately approaching their group with a grin that was so fucking fake, but none of the adults picked up on it yet.
“Welcome back, guys… Eddie,” Jason said, looking Eddie right in the eye.
“Cute,” Eddie replied.
“Jason, come on…” Chrissy hissed, tugging on the fabric of his shirt.
“I’ll be real quick, Chris,” Jason assured her. “I wanted to let you know that we have a Christian guitar club starting up. I figured we could really use your talents.”
Gareth looked ready to run his mouth. Eddie reached over to squeeze his shoulder. “Aw, that’s so nice of you,” he replied, giggling. “We’re actually super full on our extracurriculars. But you know what? If we ever trail back into God’s light, we’ll let you know!”
Jason glared, his mouth sputtering. Chrissy just pulled him saying, “Walk me to class, please.” Thankfully, she was convincing enough for Jason to shoot one last glare at everybody before he stomped down the hall, Chrissy flitting around like a little bird.
Gareth flared his nostrils, kicking at the ground. “I fucking hate that guy,” he grumbled.
“Looks like we’re in for another year of plausible deniability, folks,” Eddie said, feeling more disappointed than he should. They had been doing the same song and dance with this guy for years. Jason would say something that was definitely a threat, but whenever any of them tried to report it, the story wouldn’t sound right. Eddie could already see how this one would go. The guidance counselor would probably say something like I don’t know why you’re so offended by Jason calling you by name! and I think it’s great that he’s acknowledging your musical talents! The worst part was that Eddie knew there was no way Jason wasn’t saying nasty shit about him when he wasn’t within earshot. He was way too refined in his wording to not have some kind of outlet to trash Eddie elsewhere.
The worst part was that his girlfriend used to be kind of cool. At least, cool enough to call herself one of Corroded Coffin’s first (and only) fans back in middle school. But those days were long past. Once the football season started she was going to be wearing her cheerleading uniform nonstop and continue to have Jason Carver be an anchor dragging her down to the depths of fellow assholes at Hawkins High School.
Most of the day went by quickly, the classes condensed to be half as long in order to account for the senior year orientation at the end of the school day. Thankfully, lunch was still a full period, the band reuniting before they headed out toward the courtyard, which was full of half dead flower beds and splintered picnic tables. Eddie crouched on the top of one of the tables, scanning the doorway to see if anybody he knew was stopping by.
Eventually, a girl flung herself into the courtyard, scanning the area. Eddie waved at her, yelling, “Robin! There you are!”
Robin ran over toward him, clearly doing some weird marching band run to make sure her tray of food stayed stable. “Why are you putting your nasty shoes on the table when your friends are eating at it?” she snapped, still leaning in so he could hug her shoulder. “Hi. How was everybody’s summer?”
Everybody went around the table, giving nominal answers about how they spent the past two months. While Robin wasn’t particularly specific, it looked like it treated her well enough. She trimmed her hair, wearing a tank top with suspenders that had some cool pins along them. Several of them appeared to be overtly about gay pride, which was exciting. She was maintaining that as an open secret for a while, only coming out to a few people in a hotel room on a show choir trip.
Her eyes continued to scan the courtyard.
“Are you looking for somebody?” Eddie asked.
“Yeah, uh… Steve Harrington. Have you seen him around? He’s got, like… well, you know what he looks like.” She gestured toward her hair anyway, imitating the boy band swoop that his hair did.
“Harrington?” Eddie asked, “What is it with that guy? Dustin was mentioning him, too…”
“We’re friends,” Robin said. She leaned her head back and forth. “Okay, more like… co-workers who became platonic life partners. You know how it is.”
“No I don’t,” Eddie said, “I actively avoid talking to any of my co-workers unless it’s work-related.”
“Well, that’s boring,” Robin grumbled. “Anyway, he said he’d meet me out here for lunch and… Steve! Over here!”
“Wait, let’s just…” Eddie started, but it was too late. Robin successfully flagged the guy over and he was approaching, happy to catch Robin when she leaped up, wrapping her legs around his waist.
In truth, this was probably the closest Eddie had gotten to Steve in all his time at Hawkins. It wasn’t like Eddie was the type to attend basketball games or swim meets. Even when Eddie used to lurk around Steve’s parties back when he used to deal, he never got close enough to the king.
It was weird, because even with mutual sports, he tended to stay separated from Jason. Maybe he couldn’t keep up with the mind games that Jason liked to play, preferring to hang out with dickheads like Tommy Hagan or Billy Hargrove who loved to go the route of saying something shitty, shoving a kid, and then yelling, “I was just joking!” when a teacher followed up about it. Or worse, he’d cackle as one of those jackasses splashed a massive slushy from the nearby corner store in someone’s face, because that was the kind of crude humor those assholes enjoyed. Steve Harrington, a king who made no effort to rule his subjects. At least his goons had some kind of conviction.
Right now, Steve just appeared like a normal guy. He wore a new polo, not unlike Jason, but there was something relaxed enough about his clothes that he was going through the motions versus playing a calculated role. He held Robin with enough ease that they could have a conversation, eventually gently guiding her back on the ground. She admonished him for not bringing lunch, gently reminding him that out lunch wasn’t going to go into effect until next week.
Eddie eventually glanced toward Gareth, trying to convey You seeing this shit? as best as he could without saying it. Gareth, bless his bitter heart, was able to give a sneer that said There’s no way this isn’t an act.
Robin pushed gently at Eddie’s thigh, saying, “C’mon, get off the table, asshole. I’m giving Steve some of my lunch.”
“You don’t have to do that…” Steve started.
“It’s a chicken patty, Steve-o, it’s not rocket science to split,” Robin said, pushing Eddie with enough force that he lost his footing and nearly crashed into Freak. Thankfully, Freak caught him, helping him off the table.
Steve sat down, watching the group. Unfortunately, he was the more handsome of the boys that Eddie decided were in consideration as his nemesis. He wasn’t too cocky like Billy, whose upbringing on the west coast gave him the insight that he was a California 7 and an Indiana 10. He didn’t scrunch himself up like Tommy H did, like he knew he was being a fucking rat. He definitely didn’t have that gross clean cut Christian vibe Jason was going for. Instead, Steve was in the realm of so rich he didn’t need to prove he was. It was just different enough for Eddie’s eyes to wander toward the moles that scattered his skin and how his strong nose gave him such a distinct profile. But sometimes the evilest people in the world were the prettiest, so give Eddie a fucking break.
Right now, his hazel eyes were focused on Robin trying to split her sandwich. She yelped as a wad of ketchup slipped out, the two of them laughing. Maybe they were actually friends.
Eddie knew better than to get his hopes up. Robin was easy to love. Even if Steve knew she was a lesbian and not a very plucky ally, she was fun. Simultaneously neurotic and effervescent. She could be sarcastic, but she always knew how to reel it to make sure people knew she cared about them. It didn't mean that Steve wasn't prone to the hypocrisy of most men that decided queer men, especially queer men like Eddie, were creeps that had any interest in fucking them.
Which Eddie did not have. Really. He had the emotional maturity to acknowledge that someone was attractive without being a weirdo about it.
Once the sandwich was split and the two of them were able to eat most of it, Robin put her half down. “Oh, so get this. Steve is going to try out for the Treble Tigers.”
“Wait, you can sing?” Jeff asked.
“Absolutely fucking not,” Eddie snapped.
“Rob said I just have to sign up to try out…” Steve started. His shoulders were raised toward his ears like he was bracing himself for a fight.
“You seriously think you’re going to get in your senior year?” Eddie said. “Don’t you have I don’t know… swim meets or whatever?”
“Uh, I’m off both teams,” Steve said, nearly a whisper. “I quit. More or less.”
Eddie found himself speechless. Admittedly, it was not something he was particularly used to. He locked eyes with Robin, hoping he could get some sort of update as to when either of those events happened. Instead she watched him with a bored expression.
“Look, just because you’re Ms. Byers’s little attack dog doesn’t mean you have a say in who can and can’t join,” she finally said. “If Steve wants to try out, then he’s going to try out.”
“I’m not Joyce’s attack dog…” Eddie started, even though he kind of knew it was true. He couldn’t help it. Joyce looked out for him so he was going to look out for her and that included monitoring who tried out for show choir.
“We do need more, uh… people who can actually sing low notes,” Jeff murmured.
Eddie took a sharp enough breath that his nose hurt.
“Seriously, dude. You’re pretty much a contralto, which is cool and all, but Robin’s got a low range, too. Even if we get a bunch of freshmen, their voices won’t be settled for a bit. We won’t really sound dynamic enough,” Jeff continued.
Eddie curled his lip, knowing that Jeff was absolutely correct. The biggest challenge in transition years like this was finding balance. A mixed group with a bunch of sopranos and altos was fine until you could clearly hear one or two singers struggling with tenor and baritone parts underneath. If Steve was a strong enough singer, he could become an anchor of sorts until the freshmen’s voices stopped cracking constantly.
But that also would mean Steve Harrington would be in show choir and Eddie would officially have no reprieve in this building from any of his potential nemeses.
“Look, man. If I get in—And that’s only if I get in—I’ll make sure we never interact,” Steve said. “I just want to be able to hang out with Robin and do some sort of competition that isn’t sports. That’s it.”
Eddie lifted his chin, refusing to even look in Steve’s direction, “Fine. I can agree to those terms,” though he had no idea if they could actually be followed through.
*
The club fair was always a shitshow. The gym acoustics were horrible and it was painfully awkward watching the most affable member of each club try to coax people to sign up.
Eddie planned on running the table for Hellfire Club. He made a banner for it and everything, featuring a demon head surrounded by weapons and dice. As he set up a clipboard for sign ups he spotted Joyce approaching him, grabbing him by the shoulder before she asked, “Can I grab you for show choir? Gareth said he’ll cover your table.”
“Uh, I mean…” Eddie started, but he was already getting yanked toward the table Joyce had set up for the Treble Tigers, complete with a trifold poster board with diagrams of the costs of the club and photos from past performances. Gareth approached the Hellfire Club table, taking a seat behind the banner draped over a desk.
Joyce only let go once she was done walking him over, leaning in close before she hissed, “Care to explain to me why you were being so hostile toward a student interested in trying out for show choir?”
Eddie blanched, his eyes wide. “Who told you?”
“I’m not revealing my sources. You know by now I have my ways.” Joyce immediately eyed a pair of freshmen walking past their table, waving and giving them a bright smile. “Hey, you two! Are you interested in show choir?”
The two kids quickly shook their heads, walking away.
“That’s not how you get kids to join, you know…” Eddie started.
Joyce's glare refocused on him. “And neither is making threats. That goes against everything I’ve been trying to teach you, Eddie. The purpose of show choir is to make it a space for people who need it.”
“I just don’t understand why Steve Harrington needs it.” He watched the crowd, rolling his eyes when he noticed the wide berth everyone was giving their table. “Didn’t your son get into a physical altercation with him a few years back? Why are you being a champion for some guy who called your kid a fag?”
“Eddie,” Joyce hissed, digging her nails into his shoulder. “I’m an educator. If I didn’t believe teenagers could change then I would have to get a new job.” She pulled him closer to her face. “So here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to try to help me with recruitment over here for a little bit. When… not if, because again, I have my ways… you are going to apologize to Steve and help him get signed up. Then you can go back to run the Hellfire Club table.”
Eddie knew better than to expect some sort of affirmative. He was going to have to do it, because he had no other choice. As much as he wanted to be contrary and point out that Joyce was just creating barriers like most adults he interacted with, he resisted. If he stopped trusting Joyce Byers, he was going to start going down a path that was probably more dangerous than the one he was on before her.
So when Robin and Steve approached the table he gave a half wave, groaning when Joyce pushed him toward them.
“Uh, hi,” Eddie said.
Robin glared at him, Steve giving a tentative wave.
“Um…” Eddie quickly brought his hand to his hair, giving it a tug. He tried to straighten it the day before. He just ended up sleeping on it weird and giving it a bend he didn’t care to try to get rid of before he left for school. He continued to play with the split ends, staring down at his dingy white sneakers. “...Uh. I was a total dickhead at lunch. Show choir is, uh… for everybody and I was being needlessly hostile.”
Robin nodded her head, which meant that he must have worded some of that apology right. Thank fuck, because he didn’t want to create tension with one of the only other gay people in this school.
Steve raised his eyebrows, slowly nodding his head. “I mean, I get it, dude,” he said. “I wouldn’t trust me, either.” He laughed nervously. “Where’s the sign up sheet?”
Eddie brought his hand back, nearly jumping when he felt the clipboard smack against his palm, courtesy of Joyce. He passed it along to Steve, who quickly grabbed the pen and signed. “Am I the first person?” he asked.
“Don’t get too cocky. We’re still a half an hour into the club fair,” Eddie said, unable to resist smirking.
Steve just put an exclamation mark next to his name like a fucking dork.
By the end of the club fair, there ended up being five sign ups for the Treble Tigers.
Technically, it was one more than Hellfire Club, but the fact that Will and his little friends were the four that both clubs had in common, it didn’t really feel like a successful recruitment effort.
“At least we don’t have to be ruthless with our cuts!” Joyce chirped, folding the poster board together before passing it to Eddie.
“Uh, sure,” Eddie said, hugging it to his chest. “And we know Will can sing, right?”
“Hey,” Joyce said, reaching out and brushing her hand along his arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll put up some flyers and write a blurb for the morning announcements. We’ll figure it out.”
Eddie shrugged, still following her back to her office. It technically was split between herself and the band teacher, who definitely cleared out before the fair even started. Joyce micromanaged Eddie putting the board in the closet before Eddie sat on the edge of her desk and Joyce took her seat and reviewed the list.
“If we absolutely have to, we can see if any of your boys want to switch from accompanying band to choir,” Joyce suggested. “If we keep Gareth on drums and I play piano, that frees up Frank and Jeff.”
“Yeah, I can ask them,” Eddie said, tapping his hands against the worn wood of her desk. The two of them had been doing backing vocals for Corroded Coffin for years. He wasn’t sure they’d be willing to sing chords and do choreographed dances, but at least they wouldn’t make fun of him for asking.
“We’ll see who shows up on Monday and work from there,” Joyce said, giving him a gentle smile. “I think we can still turn this around.”
*
Eddie woke up on Monday morning with every intention to put his best foot forward.
He tried to set himself up for success. He smoothed out any bends in his hair with his straightener and tried to layer shirts in an interesting way versus throwing his hoodie on. He even ate breakfast, which was apparently monumental enough that Wayne made a beeline from the door to ruffle his hair when he came back from his night shift at the power plant.
When he arrived at school he waved when he saw Robin and Steve, stopping himself from saying something corny like, “Good luck today!” That’d be trying way too fucking hard.
Then Freak asked the group, “Hey, are we going out for lunch?” and Eddie could feel his skin get too tight around his hands.
“Fuck. Out lunch is starting today,” Eddie said, keeping his voice low. They were gathered in the hall, which meant that someone could easily eavesdrop on them.
“You don’t think those idiots are going to start slushying people day one, do you?” Jeff asked.
“I mean, why not?” Gareth said, “Once they figured out admin doesn’t give a shit if they don’t do it inside, all bets were off.”
Eddie pressed his lips together, swearing he was hallucinating the scent of artificial fruit. Everybody in Corroded Coffin got hit by a slushy at this point, though Eddie was the only one who was a target multiple times. It seemed like a pretty black and white issue the first time it happened. The entire band witnessed Tommy H dump a grape slushy on Eddie’s head. Principal Higgins even seemed fairly sympathetic initially, until he spoke with Tommy H. Then it suddenly became a misunderstanding. Some bullshit about how Tommy H tripped and he was so sorry Eddie got hit.
And yet, Eddie was the one who had to walk around with the dirty extra large shirt that read I ♥ THE PRINCIPAL. The same shirt they gave the girls that weren’t pretty enough to get away with wearing spaghetti straps. He started making sure he always had a change of clothes in his backpack at all times after that incident.
“There’s safety in numbers,” Jeff said, “Let’s just try to move together at all times, especially when we leave the building. We’re all going to be helping out with auditions, anyway.”
“That’s not really sustainable…” Gareth started.
“I mean, probably not,” Eddie said, “But at least we can support each other when shit goes down, right?”
“Yeah, exactly,” Freak said, giving a painfully optimistic smile.
Thankfully, it wasn’t a chore to walk with his bandmates. After all, they were his best friends. For all the years of Eddie’s youth that he wished he had friends, he could concede that he was glad that he finally had them once he moved to Hawkins. They were a group of guys that might not have entirely understood his gender and sexuality, but they seemed to genuinely care about his well being.
There was also the unsteady acceptance between all of them that Eddie couldn’t really be controlled. Sure, Gareth had a temper, but he tended to only get pissed off if he was personally impacted by whatever was happening. Eddie got way too caught up in what was right. The second his values clashed with what was going on, he was on the attack, sometimes literally screaming to be heard. It made him a great asset anytime there was a debate in history class and a pain in the ass pretty much everywhere else.
According to the school psychologist Eddie had to see once a week, he struggled with black and white thinking. His argument was always that he wasn’t the one struggling with understanding right from wrong, it was everybody else fucking it up. That seemed to get a pretty lengthy note on the legal pad she wrote in whenever they met.
The thing was that he knew by now that people weren’t inherently good. The ones in his life that showed an ounce of kindness made an intentional decision, be it Wayne taking him in or Joyce mentoring him. Of course he was going to say something if he witnessed an injustice of some sort.
Which was why when he was walking to the bathroom during science, nobody could hold him back from running his mouth at noted dickhead Billy Hargrove.
In Eddie’s defense, Billy was seriously drawing attention to himself. He was making no effort to muffle his voice, Eddie fairly certain that he triangulated it to a hall that was an offshoot of the cafeteria that was just a bunch of vending machines.
Eddie kept his footsteps light, trying to pick up on what was being said. The best he could make out was Billy saying, “Oh, Max,” in a disgustingly sing-songy voice, “What did I tell you?”
“You can’t tell me shit,” a higher voice snapped. “We aren’t even step-siblings anymore.”
Eddie booked it, not even caring that he gave himself away as he ran toward the hallway. Sure enough, Billy was in the middle of sneering at some redheaded girl, presumably Max, who looked small enough to be a freshman. Once she pushed her hair out of her face he realized that he totally saw her before. She was the kid who had just moved into the lot across from Eddie’s. She had spent most of her summer skateboarding alone and flipping him off whenever he tried to introduce himself. Honestly, he respected the shit out of her.
“Just let the girl go back to class, Hargrove,” Eddie said, “She clearly wants nothing to do with you.”
Max opened her mouth, quickly closing it. There was something tenacious about her body language, like she refused to give into fear. Another reason to respect the fuck out of her.
“What are you? Working as a hall monitor for community service?” Billy asked, his eyes heavy lidded with a grin on his face. He turned to face Eddie, which only exposed the fact that he was carrying one of those godforsaken slushy cups in his hands. Well, it wasn’t like Eddie was going to back down on this one.
“I’m not monitoring shit. I just heard your altercation from the senior wing, which is fucking embarrassing, dude,” Eddie replied, eyes focused on the cup as Billy tilted it from side to side.
Billy laughed, leaning in toward Eddie with such control, Eddie couldn’t help but flinch a little. He moved with so much confidence in his body, like he was well aware of the power he could assert on anybody. It wasn’t that he only had a silver tongue, but he had blue eyes and plush lips that could make anybody reconsider their disdain toward him for a brief moment.
“You really think you are in any position to judge me?” Billy asked.
The worst part about Billy was that his words did find a way to pierce Eddie’s armor. He found himself faltering, like Billy knew something Eddie didn't know about his own existence.
“Honestly, if I think you’re being a dickhead, then you must be really fucking up here, Hargrove,” Eddie said, unable to resist laughing.
Billy grinned, his mouth looking like he had way too many teeth. He glanced down at the drink in his hands and he lifted it up, dumping cherry slushy on top of Eddie’s head.
It took until the ice seeped into Eddie's scalp to react, but once he did he reached a level of fury that was so palpable he couldn’t even string words together for a counter attack. Instead he stared Billy down, hating that his eyes were beginning to sting with unshed tears
The girl rushed over toward Billy, punching him in the arm. “What the fuck, Billy?”
“Aw, are you crying?” Billy asked. He elbowed Max away. She hopped back like she was burnt by his touch. Billy was unfazed by the reaction, getting closer to Eddie. Almost as if he knew that as much as Eddie wanted to headbutt him, he never would. “I guess it’s just a little reminder for you. Once a freak always a freak.”
Eddie shut his eyes, unable to stop a few stray tears from falling. He hated being such a fucking crybaby, especially when shit got real like this. But now that he felt the slushy start seeping through his clothes, he went fuck it. Billy was going to tell every adult that he slipped and every peer that he dumped a slushy on Eddie’s head. He'd probably mention that Eddie cried and people could use it as evidence that he was still a girl or whatever.
“Well, gotta go,” Billy said, “Don’t wanna get marked for cutting class.” He slid around Eddie, tossing the cup in the garbage can with enough force that Eddie and Max flinched. He laughed as he strolled down the hall toward wherever the fuck he came from.
Eddie took a deep breath, opening his eyes and realizing that Max was still standing there.
“You should probably get going, too,” Eddie said, not even caring that his voice sounded like it wanted to get swallowed by a sob.
“Do you want any help…” Max started.
“Kinda used to it, kid,” Eddie replied. “Get back to class. Unfortunately, if you tell admin you were trying to help me they’re going to mark you for a cut anyway.”
“Okay,” Max said, slowly nodding her head. “Okay… yeah. Yeah. Uh… thank you. Not sure if it matters much, but… yeah…”
“You’re welcome, I think,” Eddie said. He cleared his throat, trying to see if he could capture any drips with his shirt to prevent them from getting on the floor and really making this place look like a cheap horror movie.
Thankfully, there was still enough time in the period that he could make his way toward the nurse’s office without anybody else seeing him. Well, aside from the nurse. But she was used to seeing his sorry ass. Apparently the only accommodation the school ever gave him regarding being trans was letting him use the single stall bathroom in her office. In truth, it was mortifying and he’d rather potentially give himself a UTI and not use it most of the time, but if boys were this shitty out in the open, he could only imagine what would happen if he tried to use the boys bathroom. So he swung by once in a while, the lesser of three evils.
The nurse wasn’t even surprised to see him, even with the bright red liquid melting off of him. She just gestured toward the bathroom in the back room, telling him to stay quiet because a kid was resting in there.
He nodded, rushing toward the back and throwing the bathroom open before slamming it shut. Fuck whoever was getting out of class. He was able to maintain his composure for the most part until he got in here, they could fucking deal. He covered his face, finally allowing himself to sob. He didn’t even care that he pressed his back against the door and left a trail of red food dye like a fucked up snail.
The bathroom had a shower, which Eddie was unfortunately already familiar with. There were a few off white towels that smelled faintly of mildew, an old bar of soap that Eddie probably opened last year, and some shampoo that was definitely for kids who had lice. His hair was going to be get fucked up from this, his curls very likely being a frizzy mess. But, hey. At least he'd know he didn't have lice.
He heard a tentative knock on the door. It was definitely not the nurse, who would just yell at him through the door at this point.
“Occupied, asshole,” Eddie said.
“No, I know…” Shit. That was definitely Steve’s voice. “Uh… I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You were leaving a trail of, uh… is this Cheerwine?”
“Your frame of reference is Cheerwine?” Eddie snapped. “Dude, you’ve seen me get hit with a slushy. Shouldn’t you know what it looks like by now?”
Steve sighed, tapping against the doorframe. “Can I help?”
“Aren’t you resting or whatever?” Eddie clenched his fist around the edge of the sink, feeling the ache in his palm.
“Yeah, but like… I get migraines all the time. I can still help.”
Anytime something like this happened, Eddie’s friends tended to give him space. This was because Eddie told them the first time and they stuck with it, trusting that he would tell them if he changed his mind.
He’d never tell them that he didn’t trust them to see him as a guy if they saw what he looked like under all the layers. Once they realized that so much of how he dressed was a sleight of hand to make them not figure out that his tits were mashed down or that even if he was as thin as a rail he still had hips.
It just felt like even the nicest guys in the world were always two exchanges away from reminding him that everybody was humoring him with this whole trans thing. Even if he knew when he was a kid that he was a guy, he’d never really be accepted by them.
But he was fucking lonely.
Yeah, he had his uncle and Joyce. He even had Jonathan, who got this whole thing way better than anybody else within city limits. But knowing that most relationships outside of them were always going to have Eddie on the defensive fucking hurt.
“Uh, can you go to Click’s class and grab my backpack? I have a change of clothes in there,” Eddie said tentatively.
“Click’s class, got it. Uh, what does your backpack look like?”
“It’s black and has a bunch of patches and pins on it. You can’t miss it,” Eddie replied.
“All right, I’ll try to be quick.” Steve rushed off, leaving Eddie alone in his own thoughts again. When he caught his reflection he grinned, noting the way the melting slushy left rivers of red along his face. Maybe he could recreate the image for an art project at some point. Try to turn this into something of value, because what the fuck else was he supposed to do?
Steve proved his status as a student athlete, running back and knocking on the door. “Can I come in?” he asked.
Eddie took a deep breath, scanning the room. If shit went south, Eddie could take the shampoo bottle and slam it against Steve’s head. His reaction time would be delayed with the migraine, anyway.
“Yeah, sure. Come on in,” Eddie replied.
Steve opened the door, stepping inside. He looked around, saying, “Oh, there’s a shower in here. Good.” He gestured toward it. “Take a shower and I’ll clean out here,” Steve instructed.
Eddie stared at him, blinking several times. “Seriously?”
“I mean, yeah?” Steve asked, “It’s gonna get sticky if we don’t do something about it.”
“Uh… okay…” Eddie said. He tentatively stepped into the shower, pulling the curtain shut before he began to undress. As if Steve could read his mind he said, “I’ll take your clothes and put them in a bag.”
Eddie filtered the clothes through the curtain, focusing on the dribbles of red taking up the floor of the shower. “Thanks,” he said quietly before turning the water on.
He wasn’t really good at showers. They kind of freaked him out, if he was honest. He spent so much time trying to conceal parts of his body that he got tripped up when he looked down at himself, inevitably examining every mark on his skin. He got a few tattoos once he started high school, shaky renditions of bats, spiders, and other creepy things done with dubious amounts of cleanliness in a woman’s trailer on the other end of Forest Hills. They helped, but were nowhere near the amount of coverage he hoped to get once he had enough money. So he focused on the floor, watching the water go from red to pink to clear.
“Can I ask who did it?” Steve asked. Judging by the sharp smell of cleaning products he must have found something to spray at the mess.
“Does it really matter?” Eddie asked, grabbing a glob of lice killing shampoo and lathering it into his hair. He cringed as he wrung out bright red water. “It’s not like anything’s gonna happen if I report it.”
“I mean, I wouldn’t report it, either,” Steve admitted, “But that doesn’t mean there’s other ways to make sure someone gets punished.”
Eddie raised his eyebrows. Now this was interesting. Apparently, Steve Harrington was about as intense as anybody else that Eddie liked. Maybe this was why Robin and Steve got along so well.
“It was Billy,” Eddie confessed.
Steve sighed. “Of course it was Billy.”
“I kinda asked for it,” Eddie added, “I caught him saying weird shit to his stepsister. Ex-stepsister? I have no idea what’s going on there. I just know that the girl moved to Forest Hills recently.”
“Yeah, that’s Max Mayfield,” Steve replied, “She’s a good kid. Kinda mean, but… she’s good, I promise.”
“Hey, man. You don’t have to explain that to me,” Eddie said, running his fingers through his hair to make sure he got all the slushy out. “Anyway, Billy did his whole alpha dog bit and dumped his slushy on me.” He refused to tell Steve that this time around Billy actually got under his skin. The guy didn’t even resort to the truly low blows with him and yet Eddie was still shaken up.
“I’m so sorry,” Steve said, “I can’t hear shit in here. If I did I would have run out…”
“Billy had her in that weird hallway with the vending machines. There’s no way you could have heard it on this side of the school.” Eddie shut off the water. “Uh, are you serious about helping? I was horrible to you last week.”
“Yeah?” Steve said, “I mean… Rob kinda gave me the heads up that you’d probably be a dick about me wanting to join. I get it, though. I know when I rolled with that crew I was, uh. A way bigger dick. So I can’t say I really blame you.” There was rustling, Steve saying, “Uh… I got a towel for you.”
Eddie reached out, Steve draping it along his arm. He began to dry himself off, listening to Steve scrub at something.
“So you aren’t friends with them anymore?” Eddie asked.
“Nah. Uh… I had some stuff happen to me that made me realize that I didn’t want to be around them.” He continued to scrub at something. “I tried to keep doing sports with them, because I did like competing, but… the situation got hostile.” A plastic bag crinkled. “Let me know when you want your clothes.”
“That sucks,” Eddie said, “I’m sorry, man.”
There was absolutely no loyalty among those guys. That was easy enough for Eddie to pick up on. The way that they snarked at each other felt more like they were constantly vying for the top position and less like friends who knew how to rile each other up. It made sense that the second that one of them realized that the other wanted to change this dynamic they would get pushed aside. A coup against King Steve’s monarchy.
“It’s all right,” Steve said, “Like I said I didn’t want to be friends with them.”
Eddie stuck his hand out to grab his clothes, grateful that he remembered to pack a full outfit. The pants were getting worn out in the inner thighs and the long sleeved shirt was from some ski resort from Colorado, a state he definitely never been in, but it would get him through the day. His hair already felt like it was frizzing up, but it was nowhere near as bad as the matted mess it was when he was a kid, so he’d survive. He tried to not think too hard about how the former king had just touched his boxer briefs and sports bra, because that was way too much to unpack on top of everything else.
Eddie pushed the shower curtain aside, Steve placing his worn out Converse in front of him.
“I got as much of the slushy out of them as I could,” Steve explained, “I did a pretty good job if I do say so myself!”
Eddie inspected his shoes, unable to conceal a grin. He didn’t even realize that he got some on his shoes and they were already good as new.
“Uh, do you need anything else?” Steve asked.
“Nah, I’m good,” Eddie replied, guiding his shoes on his feet. “You can lay down again.”
Steve relaxed, bringing his hands to his face and rubbing gently at it. “Yeah, I’m gonna go do that. I’m really hoping I can get my shit together for auditions.”
“I’m sure Joyce will let you try out a different day if need be,” Eddie said. He genuinely considered saying thank you, having to remind himself that a few nice minutes with a guy didn’t make up for the years of bullshit between them. “Uh, good luck out there. Seriously.”
Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re welcome, Munson,” he said, giving a wave before he left the bathroom.
Eddie stood in the middle of it, checking his reflection for the state of shock in his face. His hair was already beginning to twist and form a halo around his head.
He had no idea how he felt after the last twenty minutes of his life.
*
Eddie didn’t even bother telling anybody about the slushy incident, because by the time he approached Joyce’s office with Gareth to pick up his guitar, Joyce was waiting for him.
“Gareth, can I speak with Eddie for a minute?” she asked. “I know you need help getting the kit on the stage, so it’ll be quick.”
Gareth glanced at Eddie before slowly nodding his head. “Yeah, sure thing, Ms. B,” he said before he left the office, closing the door on the way out.
Joyce pressed her lips together, crossing her arms. In truth, she wasn’t particularly great at balancing between being a teacher and a mother. A lot of students found it a bit cloying, Eddie included when he started. She was definitely getting better at finding the balance, but it was obvious that she wasn’t particularly great at carrying her sadness when one of her students was going through something.
Eddie was also not really sure how to handle someone showing concern for him. He figured he’d be more acclimated to it after being in Wayne’s custody for the better part of a decade, but it never really clicked for him. It probably was the fact that no one really had solutions for times like this. A fellow student violated him. It wasn't the first time and it would happen again.
“Eddie…” Joyce started.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” Eddie said, “Honestly, I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Honey, how can I help you if you don’t tell me what's going on?” Joyce asked.
“Look, Joyce, I love you… but this has been a whole fucking thing even before you came around and it hasn’t really stopped. So let’s just… drop it.” He opened and closed his hands a few times, searching for the right words to end this conversation. “I just need to get through this year. If I have to take a few slushies to the face, whatever.” He tried to run his fingers through his hair, wincing when it got caught in a particularly massive knot. He turned away from her, catching Steve entering the music room and immediately grabbing a snare drum, following Gareth toward the auditorium.
“Oh, you’ll get a kick out of this,” Eddie said, “Steve ended up helping me get cleaned up afterwards.”
“I’m glad to hear that you two are getting along better,” Joyce said. “I also know you’re trying to distract me.”
“I mean, we also got five minutes before auditions,” Eddie pointed out. He turned toward Joyce again. “How about this? If I get another liquid poured on me I’ll tell you everything.”
The other benefit of Joyce being such a new teacher was that she cared too much about her students liking her to really push conversations like this too hard. She wilted when she realized this, nodding her head before she said, “You’re right, we better get going.”
Once Eddie hauled his guitar case to the auditorium, he felt more at ease. The stage was one of the only places Eddie felt comfortable existing within at this school, the only other place being the music room connected to Joyce’s office.
Eddie bent down, unzipping the side compartment of his bag to make sure he had all the sheet music he was practicing all weekend. His time as a part of the music accompaniment for show choir was over, but he still liked helping out during auditions. If anything, it satisfied his curiosity as to what the incoming crop of talent looked like for the school year.
“I got a music stand for you,” Freak said.
Eddie took a deep breath before he opened up his case. “You guys don’t have to be nice to me,” he said.
“We promised we’d look after each other and we failed,” Gareth said.
Eddie grabbed his guitar, getting the strap over his head before he fit himself between Jeff and Freak.
“I went to the bathroom in a class none of you were in,” Eddie said, “Our plan worked otherwise, so don’t worry about that.”
“Yeah, but…” Jeff started and Eddie decided that was the best time to start tuning his guitar. It was enough for everybody to drop the conversation, focusing on their own instruments.
“My mom’s making breakfast casserole for dinner if anybody wants to come over after this,” Freak said, “She personally invited all of you and everything.”
“Yeah, sure,” Eddie said, “I’m down.”
“Yeah, me too,” Jeff added.
“Why not?” Gareth added.
Freak smiled, continuing to strum his bass. It seemed like they would be able to successfully move past what happened today and Eddie was relieved.
The audition was a pretty simple process. Joyce would sit in the audience, the band positioned toward the back of the stage as the person auditioning stood toward the front. The only request was that the person submitted music by Friday the day before so the band could learn the part. Joyce definitely had students prepare way bars of music than most audition settings, but when chemistry was an unofficial piece of criteria for the group, it was probably for the best.
Steve came in first, which wasn’t particularly surprising as Eddie personally saw him be the first person to sign up. He had selected “Summer, Highland Falls” by Billy Joel, which was an absolutely confounding song choice. It wasn’t even one of his singles, so the guy had to have listened to the album enough times to decide this was the Billy Joel song he needed to sing for this audition. It kind of made the decision to choose such a corny musician to come back around to weirdly subversive.
“Now just go up on the stage and let the band know when you’re ready,” Joyce instructed, pen in hand and ready to take notes. “If you need them to stop, just tell them. We know this can be a little nerve wracking!”
“Yeah, thanks,” Steve said. He turned back toward the band, eyes focused on Eddie.
Eddie tried to maintain an air of dismissiveness, because that was how this was supposed to go. Steve’s brief moments of kindness were not necessarily an indication that they were going to get along beyond Steve pitying Eddie. And Eddie was pretty maxed out on having anybody hang around with him if they were just going to feel bad for him all the time.
“I’m ready to go,” Steve said.
Gareth counted everybody in, Eddie taking on a finger picking part to approximate the piano while Jeff and Freak took on the traditional guitar and bass parts. It was kind of fun having to learn so many different styles of music in a short amount of time, even if none of them particularly liked some of the song choices. Maybe they could look into becoming a cover band if the whole college thing didn’t work out.
Steve swayed to the music, starting to sing with a sense of ease that Eddie didn’t usually see during auditions. His pitch was a little shaky, like he didn’t get to sing as much as he wanted to, but there was a spirit to his performance that a lot of show choir performers sorely lacked. Nothing pissed Eddie off more than to watch someone walk up to the mic for a feature and when they opened their mouth it was technically beautiful, but totally joyless.
Maybe he was more hung up on this shit than others, because he had a really dorky dream that he never really admitted to. But whenever he went to the awards ceremony of a competition, he dreamed of hearing his name when they announced the best male performer award. It hadn’t happened yet, but maybe this year could be his year. If these auditions worked out, it was entirely possible.
As Steve continued to sing, Eddie tried to imagine what it’d be like to dance across the stage while Steve was an arm’s length away. That if Steve could give this energy in all his performances they could easily play off of each other. Because for these few measures of music, Steve wasn’t Steve Harrington, probably disgraced king of Hawkins. He was just some person singing about working through the constant highs and lows of love. And that was the kind of person Eddie could work with.
Another thing Eddie refused to ever admit to was that once they got to the end of the song, he kind of wanted to do something obnoxious. Ask if Steve had a second song or something to extend this fantasy a little longer.
Instead, Eddie just asked, “That’s all you got?”
Joyce immediately admonished him, but Steve just laughed, his nose scrunching up he apparently found it so funny.
“If I get in, there’s plenty more where that came from,” Steve replied.
Eddie quickly looked down at his feet, hoping his hair could obscure how red his face was getting. “Uh, cool,” was all he could come up with.