Record Store Blues // Steve Harrington

Chapter 2

The hallways after school were eerily quiet compared to its usual rowdiness. Robin and I made earlier plans to meet at our lockers after I had joined a club. I knocked on the door of Room 101 and opened the door.

 The students sat at the desks, taking down notes from the chalkboard. Patrick, my old lab partner from Junior year, appeared to be in the middle of discussing something about erythrocytes before my interruption.

"Hey...Science Club, right?" I said.

Patrick stepped away from the chalkboard and nodded. "What do ya want?"

"Where do I sign up?"

The students looked at each other and whispered amongst themselves. "Sorry, we can't take any more people."

"What do you mean? This is a school club... you're meant to take people in."

"You're going to be behind," Somebody spoke.

"On what?"

"Content."

"Content on what?"

"We have a strict schedule. Last week we looked at virology, now we're on to blood composition. If you join now you won't have a clue what we're talking about." I was dumbfounded. I was in Science Club in Sophomore year and all Sandy and I ever did was talk about 'ET'. 

"School literally started just a couple of weeks ago," I informed him. Patrick turned away from me. "Come on, you know I can catch up. Remember when I was sick for a whole week and still managed to-"

"Marla, I know ya can. But I can't neglect club rules." Patrick said, turning his attention to the chalkboard once more.

*

"How'd you go?" Robin caught up with me as soon as I walked towards the lockers. I recounted what happened. "That's totally ridiculous!"

"Rules are rules, I guess. What about you? What club did you join?" I asked.

Robin slumped her shoulders. "I couldn't even find where the photography club were meeting."

"Anyway," I started off, putting my arm around her shoulders, "I heard colleges focus more on grades than extracurricular activities."

We were about to leave when a storm of heavy footsteps erupted. "Come on, people! The gymnasium needs to scream 'team spirit' or so help me God!" The voice was loud and commanding. The boy held the gym door open and hurried the students holding banners in. Robin and I looked at each other, shrugged in a 'Why not?' way and followed suit.

The gym was packed with the boys' basketball team; they were divided into shirts and skins. The first game of the season was on Friday and the pressure was high. Our shoes squeaked against the gym floor as we made our way towards the small team of students.

"Hannah, please tell me this is not the real banner," The same boy who had yelled in the corridor pleaded, cornering a poor girl. "If I hang this up we'll be the laughing stock of Indiana! How do you think that will look for me? My three year old cousin can paint better than this."

"I'm scared," I told Robin.

"You're right. Maybe us doing the morning news is enough. We don't need to do anymore," She added, slowly backing away.

"May I help you ladies?"

The boy was now standing directly in front of us. Even with his small stature, I felt intimidated and could only choke out a few words.

"Hi, I-I'm Marla and this is-"

"Robin."

"Umm...and we were wondering if-"

"You were wondering if I accept newcomers because you need more things on your application," He said. Is this boy a mind reader? "As a matter of fact, yes I am. Know your way around a paintbrush?"

He handed both of us a paintbrush and a banner that was only half-finished. "I trust that you ladies will correct the damage that she has done." He gestured towards a girl that was leaving the gym, her head hung low.

Robin and I laid down the 'GO HAWKINS!' banner near the bleachers. I dipped the paintbrush into the bucket of blue paint and went over some blank spots, while Robin worked on smoothing out the edges of the letters.

We watched the basketball team practice in-between coats. The ball was passed to Billy, of whom chose to taunt Steve. He mockingly yelled, "King Steve! King Steve, everyone!", even dribbling the ball back and forth.

"Jesus, do you ever stop talking to me? Come on!" Steve shouted back. He stood on guard, his hands defensively outstretched waiting for Billy's next move.

The snarky comment wasn't taken lightly. Billy retaliated by knocking Steve over. He jumped into the air, passed the ball underneath his thighs and made a winning shot. Steve laid motionless on the floor, his face wincing in pain. I don't know much about basketball or sports, but that move was definitely not allowed. The Coach thought otherwise, and applauded Billy on his skills.

The boy from the Decorating Committee came over to us. He closely inspected the banner, ticking off boxes on his checklist. "Well, ladies, I must admit that the paintwork is impressive. I think it even deserves to be placed right where I hung my own work."

Robin and I carefully carried the banner to where the ladder had been set up. He excitingly climbed up it, and ripped off his own banner. We passed him ours and he started to pin it up.

"This is going to look just wonderful on game night," he said. The boy began his descent, eager to pin up the other side. Then, the basketball had become astray and bounced beneath the ladder. Two players carelessly chased after it, knocking over the ladder and the boy and landing on his outstretched hand. The ball emerged from the aftermath and bounced towards me. I picked it up. 

"Is it broken?" The boy cried out in horror. His arm was grossly contorted.

"Maybe." One of the players said hesitantly. I tore my eyes away from the arm and saw that it was Steve who answered. "How bad is the pain on a scale of one to ten?" 

Billy was beside him laughing wildly at what he had partially caused. "They'll have to amputate it."

"Not my arm!" The boy angrily yelled. "The banner!"

I couldn't help but let out a laugh. "The banner is okay. It looks perfect actually."

He gave a sigh of relief. "God is real," he mumbled.

A whistle was sounded. "Harrington! Hargrove! Get back in the game!" The Coach yelled, ignoring the poor boy sprawled across the floor.

Steve grabbed the ball from my hands and dribbled it back to court. Billy followed him closely, and their game of cat and mouse resumed as normal.

"We should take him to the nurse's office," I said. Robin and I supported him carefully at the waist. He groaned as we lifted him up and walked him out of the gym.

"Stephanie," The boy called out. A student looked up from their painting, "Make sure all the banners are done and hung up before you go. There are some pins and tape in a box by the bleachers. And take extra care of the banner near the ladder!" His dedication despite being in immense pain was admirable.

The door to the nurse's office was already opened. "Hello?" A nurse came from the back. We sat the boy down on the bed. The state of his arm required no explanation.

"Hey, we're going to go now. The nurse will take care of you," I reassured him.

"Thank you so much," He said. "My name is Anthony, by the way." He outstretched his unbroken arm, as I shook it carefully. 

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