Lost in the Rhythm

The Inherent Homoeroticism of Band Uniforms

[flutechick128] what the fuck noceda

[flutechick128] why did you just steal my wristband and run away

[flutechick128] give it back tomorrow and never fucking come back to my work again

The messages had been read a week ago.

Amity didn't know why she kept clicking on the conversation, even after it became increasingly clear that Luz wasn't going to answer. It wasn't even a conversation, really. It was just her yelling into the void only to be left on seen by the girl she'd made her rival after only one day of school.

Meeting Luz was the worst thing that could have possibly happened to her.

A week into the semester now, the two had hardly exchanged words since Luz had barged into her work and started acting like a toddler, but there was still a tangible tension in the air between them during every band rehearsal. Luz's love for showing off was the worst thing about her. Every day in jazz class, she'd volunteer to improvise, and every day, she'd do amazing. Sure, she'd come from prestigious Glandus, but she was still the best saxophone player Amity had ever met. She was outstanding, even considering where she'd transferred from. The thought made Amity's blood boil.

A voice drifted through the thin walls of her room. "Mittens! You're gonna be late! Hurry it up or Mom is gonna beat your ass again!"

"Shut up, Emira," she yelled back. She clicked out of Instagram and shoved her phone into the pocket of her denim jacket. She needed to stop stressing about Luz before interacting with her siblings- already Emira liked to tell her that it was obvious when she was thinking about Luz because her face got all red.

Of course it did. Thinking about Luz made her really, really mad.

Checking to make sure she had everything in her backpack, plus her two instrument cases, she rushed down the stairs in time to see her siblings waiting for her in front of the door to the garage. Edric leaned against the wall, lazily scrolling through his phone, but Emira kept an eagle-eyed watch for her baby sister. "Let's go. I'm driving you today," Emira said.

"Why?"

"There's no musical rehearsal after school, so we might as well."

"Seriously?" Amity huffed. She liked it when her siblings had musical rehearsal, because it meant that she'd have the house to herself for at least a few hours. She could practice in solace, silently agonize over her social life... whatever she wanted to do, and she could do it all alone.

"Well, there's ensemble rehearsal, so Ed still has to go, but I don't." She cackled. "Imagine not being the lead."

Edric rolled his eyes. "Too bad you got kicked out of the pit, Amity," he chirped, not looking up from his screen.

"Edric! Don't pour salt in her wound," her sister snapped. "You know that's a sensitive subject." She waved her hand at Amity. "Come on, let's go. Can't have the Banshee Orchestra's top flute player coming in late to practice."

Amity grunted and followed her siblings into the garage. The Banshee Orchestra's top flute player, she thought, but not the Banshee Big Band's top saxophone player. She clambered into the passenger seat of Emira's car before Edric could, leaving her brother to mutter dejectedly in the back on the ten-minute ride to school.

The Blight estate was massive, composed of a huge courtyard and an elaborate manor set into the Midwest countryside that looked very out of place among the fields of corn and soybeans. Learning to back out of the long driveway and through the entrance gates without hitting them had been Amity's least favorite part of learning how to drive (okay, maybe after parallel parking.) It was huge, perfect for the random parties her parents hosted all the time for no particular reason.