hater ⇔ c.h.

eight; haters gonna hate

"Okay, Eli!" I yelled, staring up at the lights and screens reigning high above the stage floor. The most capable of our crew were working on final touches for the lighting.

He flicked a few switches and a soft buzz sounded, followed by a bright, white light flashing. Soon the colors changed from white to blue, to red and then purple.

"Great! That's good!"

A few security guards were walking around the outline of the stage, also some other employees who were wheeling things around the room. Everyone was busy. The whole stadium was filled with rushing bodies.

I looked back to where Eli was standing at the control panel, which was stationed in the back of the floor seats. There was a clearing around it, then the regular chairs about ten feet away, in which was occupied by a few other people who were watching Eli and I. They were supposed to be helping out, but apparently their phones seem to be more important than making sure we don't screw up a sold out show.

"Playback on the video!"

Shouting like this probably wasn't great for my voice, but how else was I supposed to communicate with tech?

He nodded and pressed another button which resulted in the screen before me playing lyrics that I knew all to well. There were also some images and random blobs of color, but all in all, nothing was wrong with it.

I cheered, hopefully giving Eli the hint that we were done with tech. Cameras were also already in place, the set as well. The only things left to do were final sound check and some last-minute printing. Everyone is going home around four, then I assume most of the staff is coming back to enjoy all of our hard work and watch the concert.

It's Friday, an amazing band is performing and everyone is super pumped. Well, except for Jordan. He's been miserable ever since finding out that I was, in fact, taking that job on Monday. As I've been informed, this is all over his personal opinion on the unsaid band's attractiveness.

Like he knows. Maybe I'll come to the conclusion that they're all not-so-hot assholes.

"We're all done up here!" I exclaimed, bouncing in a circle on the brightly lit stage. My friends at the tech station cheered along and began to make their way out of the stadium with an excited wave goodbye. They were extremely intelligent in the technological area, so they could leave when the lighting, audio and video components were taken care of. Unfortunately, I am not that smart. I'll be here until everything is done. This way, I may see Boys Like Girls in sound check. Although, now that I think about it, we are done everything so I guess I'll have to waiting until tonight.

"Tegan!"

Aha, maybe not.

I followed the sound of Steven's voice, which came from somewhere around the left side of the stage. It seemed as if he was backstage, just behind the curtain. "Steven?"

"Yes-uh, okay, just one second."

Some of the crew slowly emerged through the curtains, only revealing that there were five of them and they seemed to be carrying something. I quirked a brow, eyeing each of them suspiciously.

They all had a grip on the object from underneath, and as they slowly lugged it towards me I could see that it was a massive speaker.

"So, um-"

Given the fact that I am vertically challenged, I could not see over the speaker that probably weighs more than myself.

"Ste-"

I couldn't even tell where he was. It was such a big load that I couldn't get around or tell who was who. The men are all relatively the same height and two of them are on the opposite side of which I can see.