In Hopper's words, El's always just 'kept to herself.'

In El's opinion, she's always just sucked at making friends.

It wasn't like she didn't try to get to know people — it was just hard. Growing up, she was always so shy, so reserved, so happy being on her own that she didn't realize something was a little off until it was too late. By the time she started wanting friends to hang out with, everyone in her school had already established their own tightly-knitted cliques and social circles. She was left behind as an afterthought, forever stuck in the 'none of the above' category.

Maybe that's why, when her dad suggested moving back to his hometown, El had been so excited. Everything about Chicago was starting to grate on her, from the snobby kids at school to the constant reminder that just a couple years ago, Diane (yes, Diane, because El's still refusing to think of that woman as her mother) had walked out on both El and Hopper, leaving them to fend for themselves in the cramped apartment they shared.

Moving to Hawkins felt like shaking an Etch-A-Sketch clean, and El was more than ready for a new, fresh slate —

— She just wasn't quite prepared for how new everything would be.

Hawkins was nothing like Chicago. In Chicago, she'd fallen asleep every night to the sounds of blaring car horns, wailing police sirens, and muffled chatter from neighboring apartments. In Hawkins, there were only the sounds of chirping crickets and distant dogs' barking to accent the night, leaving everything feeling eerily quiet in comparison.

In Chicago, she'd taken the city bus to school every day. There were always interesting things to see on a city bus, like a guy carrying a live pigeon in the front pocket of his trench coat or an old lady who claimed to be an oracle and wore so many necklaces that you could barely see her neck. In Hawkins, El had to take the regular yellow school bus. The seats were a plastic-y brown leather, all the kids threw paper airplanes and shouted at each other, and the most interesting thing to look at was the collage of chewed gum wads left underneath the seats.

In Chicago, there were so many kids at El's school that she was easily able to slip under the radar and go unnoticed. In Hawkins, all eyes were on her the minute she stepped into the hallway on the first day of school. It felt like everyone was sizing her up, instantly identifying her as an outsider.

But that was a good thing, she reminded herself. She needed to be noticed, a least a little, if she was going to make friends here. The only problem was, she wasn't exactly sure how she was supposed to make friends. Was she supposed to just pick a random person to introduce herself to? That seemed too awkward and unnatural.

She wound up eating lunch alone on the first day of school, poutingly thinking about how this was something that both Chicago and Hawkins had in common. She just wished that there was an easier way to find people who were looking for a new friend like she was.

That easier way, as it would turn out, revealed itself to her the following day.

The flyer was taped to the locker right beside hers. The vibrant, artsy design easily captured her attention and she gently pulled it off the locker so she could look at it more closely.

Lead singer wanted! Band auditions to be held Thursday in the Auditorium, 3:00, all Hawkins High students welcome!

El read it over a few more times before folding the flyer into her pocket without much thought. But it was already too late — the idea had wormed its way into her head like a catchy pop song. Throughout the day, her mind continued to drift back to it, her fingers brushed against it in her pocket. On the bus ride home, she kept taking the flyer out to look at it.

El didn't really know anything about music. She'd never played an instrument or been in a band or anything, but she did know how to sing. She was pretty good at it too (at least, she was by her dad's affirmations, though that wasn't saying much, since dads were supposed to say nice things like that). Perhaps joining a band would be the perfect way to make a few new friends and submerse herself into a group.

It was a crazy idea, really. Like, who joins a band just in the hopes of befriending the other members?

Apparently, El.

It's now Thursday after school and El's just finished her band audition. She didn't mess up a note once, and by the looks on the other kids' faces, they all seem pretty impressed. Nevertheless, despite how well El feels that her audition went, it's still a huge relief when the red-headed girl announces, "You're in!"

"I am?" El exclaims, unable to stop herself from smiling. The five students sitting in the auditorium seats nod, and El can hardly believe her luck. They'd liked her! They wanted her to be a part of their group! It's so exciting, she can barely contain herself.

"Thank you!" She replies gratefully, "I promise I'll do good!"

The band members smile back before getting up from their seats. El gets off the stage and they meet each other in the aisle.

"We should introduce ourselves," the smaller, quieter boy suggests.

"Right!" The guitarist exclaims, pushing past everyone so he can stand in front of El. He seems so excited that El can't help but giggle at his antics.

"I'm Mike!" he offers, holding out his hand.

El's giggles settle into a soft smile as she reaches out to shake his hand. "You play really good, Mike," she replies, glancing at the guitar slung over his shoulder.

Mike's face flushes pink as he drops her hand. "Thanks!" He smiles back, looking torn between bashfulness and pride.

El's gaze briefly flits over Mike's features as she takes in his pale skin, wavy dark hair, soft lips, and smattering of freckles. She thinks back to the moment they'd just shared, when she was singing and Mike was playing. Their gazes had met, just like they were now, and for those few moments, she'd felt something. Like they were the only two people in the room.

Of course, they're not the only two people. Mike steps aside and the rest of the band members introduce themselves: Max, Lucas, Dustin, and Will.

"Band practice is every Tuesday after school," Will explains after introductions are exchanged.

"At my house!" Mike cuts in eagerly, "We play in my garage, it's pretty cool."

"It's a garage," Lucas says dryly.

"Garages can be cool," Mike shrugs.

"Yours isn't," Dustin teases with a snort.

El watches as they go back and forth, unable to stop herself from smiling. Their banter flows so naturally and playfully, she can't believe that they're even willing to let her in. Now she's just gotta figure out how to fit in with everyone else.

"Anyway," Max huffs with an eye roll. She digs into the pocket of her red hoodie and pulls out two items: a mixtape and a scrap of paper with an address scrawled on it. "Here's where we practice; here's all the songs we play," she explains as she passes both items to El.

"We need you to learn all of our songs," Lucas instructs.

El nods as she tentatively accepts the items from Max. She has to memorize their songs? All of them? By when? And how? El mostly listens to records, so she doesn't have a cassette player, other than the one in her dad's car.

"Is that ok?" Will asks gently.

El swallows back her inner questions with a nod. She doesn't want their first impression of her to be that she's a whiny wimp. She'll just have to figure things out as she goes along.

"Great!" Mike smiles brightly, "So, I guess the next time we'll see you is Tuesday?"

"Yes," El nods again, "Tuesday."

As it turns out, that's kind of a lie. Well, okay: maybe it's not a lie, but it's definitely not true. El actually sees them a lot earlier than Tuesday. One of them, at least.

After school the next day, El skips the school bus and instead walks to Radio Shack. It takes her awhile to find it, but she heads to the downtown area of Hawkins and is able to locate it soon enough.

(Downtown, of course, is highly subjective. It's more like a longer, busier street with lots of businesses on each side, not an actual metropolis.)

She enters Radio Shack, which is surprisingly slow for a Friday afternoon. The store is quiet albeit for the classic rock playing over the radio and the chime of the bell that sounds when she enters.

"Hello?" El calls out, glancing around the empty store. Does anyone even work here? Hawkins is so small, El honestly wouldn't be surprised by any answer to that question.

She gets her answer moments later when a gangly kid carrying a teetering tower of boxes emerges from the backroom.

El recognizes his dark, mussed hair and lanky figure at once.

"Mike!" She calls out happily, elated to have found a familiar face.

Mike is halfway across the store, still carefully attempting to carry the inventory boxes to their proper aisle. He probably should have done this in two trips, but whatever — this way is faster and he's totally got it under control.

—Until he doesn't.

He glances up when he hears someone call his name. The last person he would expect to see standing in the store's entrance is El, and yet, there she is, looking adorable in a pink sweater and overalls and waving at him all excitedly.

Mike, stupidly, smilingly, raises a hand to wave back at her, and that's when his tower of boxes comes crashing to the ground.

El's eyes widen. "Oh no!" She gasps as she rushes over to him, "I'm sorry!"

"It's okay!" Mike assures her, "I was just...I mean...I shouldn't have been carrying so many."

El gives a sheepish smile as she wrings her fingers together nervously. "I shouldn't have surprised you like that."

"It's no big deal," Mike shrugs in response, though his face is still a little flushed. He's wearing what El assumes to be the usual Radio Shack uniform — a short-sleeved button-up shirt, a striped black and grey tie, and a plastic name tag.

Mike Wheeler, she reads as her gaze lands on his name tag.

El Wheeler, she thinks instinctively, for some completely insane reason. Oh god, what was wrong with her? Why did she think that? She literally just met him yesterday, and she doesn't even know anything about him. She doesn't even like him like that, at least, she's pretty sure she doesn't. Why did she have to be so weird?

Mike takes note of the uncomfortable look on El's face and he realizes that she probably came here because she needs to buy something, and he's like, totally ignored that.

"Anyway," he says as he straightens up. He adjusts his tie as he tries to look more professional than he actually is. "What can I help you find?"

El eyes him with a hesitant smile. "Shouldn't you pick those up?" She points out, motioning towards the boxes.

"Eh," Mike shrugs, "I'll do it later. I'm here 'till like, 9:00, so I got time. You're more important."

El's eyes widen with surprise, and that's when Mike realizes he totally just sounded like he was flirting with her, or something.

"I mean, helping customers is more important," Mike adds hastily, "Since it's like, my job."

"Right!" El nods quickly, "Of course!"

An awkward silence settles over the pair as they both eye each other expectantly.

"So..." Mike begins slowly, "What can I help you find?"

El realizes that this entire time, he's probably been waiting for her to say something, and she's just been blinking back at him like a total wastoid.

She really does sucks at making friends.

"I need a Walkman!" El answers quickly, "To listen to your band's tape."

"Our band," Mike reminds her with a smile.

Despite how flustered El still feels, she can't help but smile back at that. "Our band," she echoes happily.

Mike knows he's not supposed to like El — and he doesn't — but that still doesn't mean that he can't be nice to her. Because that's all he's doing. He's just being super nice to his new friend that's totally not attractive in any way. Yup.

"So," Mike continues, clearing his throat a little, "What kind of Walkman do you want?"

El's brow crinkles in confusion. "What kind?"

"We have different models," Mike explains, "They're all gonna have different specs, battery life, adapters…"

When El only stares at him blankly, Mike realizes that she probably had no idea what he's talking about.

"C'mon," he smiles, motioning for her to follow him. "I'll show you."

"Thank you," El replies gratefully, following Mike as he guides her through the aisles. As he walks in front of her, El can't help but check out his figure. He's tall, a good 6 inches more so than her, and she has to crane her neck back to look at the top of his head. His hair is somehow even messier from the back — stray curls stick out in haphazard directions and El finds herself fighting back the urge to smooth them into place.

As they come to a stop in front of an aisle of portable cassette players, Mike places his hands on his hips and eyes them in an almost confrontational sort of manner.

"As you can see," he says, motioning one hand over the selection, "We got a lot of options."

"I see," El nods, moving to stand beside him. She eyes all the various models, still pouting in confusion. "I guess…I don't care what kind I get — I just need a regular one."

Mike gives her a small, offended gasp, and for a moment, El worries that she actually upset him, but when she turns to glance at him, she notices that he has a playful glint in his eyes and a slight smile curving his lips. "You don't care?" Mike questions, still feigning indignation.

El holds back a giggle and decides to play along. "I don't," she shrugs indifferently.

Mike makes a wounded grunting sort of sound as he places his hand over his heart. "You're killing me, El," he wheezes.

El isn't able to stop herself from giggling at that, and the sound leaves Mike feeling a little starry-eyed. The sound of her laugh is just as pretty as the sound of her singing, and Mike knows that he would be completely happy to listen to both for the rest of his days.

Was that too mushy? Probably. Either way, he's now determined to keep her laughing.

"Walkmans — Walkmen, if you will — are like, amazing," Mike continues.

"Walkmen!?" El giggles harder. It's so stupid — Mike's so stupid, because that joke isn't even really that funny, like, at all, and yet, El finds herself unable to stop the giddy feeling bubbling up within her. She feels stupid and happy. Stupidly happy.

"Walkmen," Mike nods seriously, "I mean, there's just so many different kinds, you gotta take this decision process seriously." He steps forward and picks up a couple examples to show her, holding them up as he continues to speak, "Like, we got your basic model, simple, classic, auto-stop capabilities, kind of boring."

"I don't want boring," El smiles, shaking her head in feigned disdain.

"Exactly," Mike nods, "Now we're on the same page. So, then we got fancier models — these ones can play tapes, and they have AM/FM radios, auto-reverse capabilities, the whole nine yards. We also got some ones that come in colors, like the WM-20. It doesn't come with a radio, but it's pink, so you could like, match your sweater."

El snorts as she eyes the metallic-pink player and glances down at her sweater. "That's true!"

"So," Mike concludes gravely, putting the players back on the shelf, "All I'm saying is, you might wanna take some time to seriously think about this. I mean, this is probably the biggest decision you'll ever make."

"You're right," El nods, crossing her arms as she mirrors his serious demeanor.

A beat of silence passes as El examines the different models. Mike watches her, gaze soft yet speculative, giving her a few minutes to decide before asking, "So, what's it gonna be?"

He nonchalantly runs a hand through his hair as he smiles at her, and something about that simple, completely insignificant action just does something to her.

Mainly, it makes her suddenly aware of just how many freckles he has, just how adorable his little smirk is, and just how dorky he looks in his uniform. She finds herself suddenly unable to hold his gaze and quickly diverts her attention back to the Walkmans (Walkmen).

"Uh...this one," she mumbles, grabbing the pink one as she blushes profusely.

"Interesting choice," Mike remarks.

El, still blushing like crazy, only shrugs in response. Great, so now she's forgetting how to talk.

"Well, if that's it, I'll just check you out," Mike says, wincing as the words leave his mouth. Check her out? "I mean, I'll cash you out," he amends.

El holds her Walkman tightly as she gives Mike an anxious smile. "Thank you."

She's gone from lighthearted and playful to quiet and anxious again, and Mike starts to worry that he might have done something wrong. Maybe his joking around had been too much for her? He needed to try a more casual approach.

"So," Mike begins nonchalantly, turning his back to El as he guides her down the aisles and towards the cash registers, "Do you like everything so far?"

El's certain that her heart literally stops at that. "W-what?"

"You moved here from Chicago, right?" Mike clarifies.

Oh. He was asking if she liked Hawkins so far. Not him. Thank god. There's no way she's willing to tell him about the butterflies fluttering in her chest, let alone how much she likes him so far.

"Right," El nods, trying to calm her nerves, which are suddenly feeling insanely jumpy, "I haven't seen a lot of Hawkins; it's only been two weeks, so I'm—"

And that's when she trips.

The next seconds pass by in a flustered, high-speed blur. She's too distracted by Mike, too lost in thought, too focused on not blushing that she doesn't see the boxes that Mike left scattered on the floor. El trips over one of the boxes and makes an embarrassing yelp. Mike turns around just in time to see her reel forward. El, completely out of balance, tumbles towards him, sending them both falling to the floor. Mike lands back-first on the tile floor, sending boxes flying in all sorts of directions. El, breathless, lands on top of him, causing her to gasp and Mike to grunt at the impact.

Mike blinks up at her, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly ajar.

"I'm so sorry!" El gasps again, utterly humiliated. "I'm so clumsy and stupid and—"

Yoko Ono, Yoko Ono, Mike repeats as he tries (and fails) to look at literally anything other than the girl lying on top of him. He promised his friends that he didn't — wouldn't — like her. Liking her could lead to dating her and dating her would ruin things...somehow...he's not exactly sure how, though...

"You're fine," Mike replies, voice a little hoarse.

El's cheeks flush a delicate shade of blush as she gives him a bashful smile. Her lashes flutter as she glances down shyly and bites down on her lower lip. Up this close to her, Mike can smell her rose-scented perfume. His gaze falls to the lip she's tucking into her mouth, and he feels as if he can already taste the cherry chapstick that leaves her lips looking pink and soft.

He can practically hear Dustin's voice in his head, yammering on about Yoko Ono and everything going to shit, but—

Screw it.

His friends are going to be so pissed if they find out he couldn't keep his word for literally more than 24 hours, but whatever. El is just so pretty and nice and her laugh is incredible and there's no way in hell that Mike's going to ignore all of that.

"Well...at least the Walkman's safe," Mike jokes, motioning towards the item still secure in El's grasp.

El turns to glance at it, as if she'd forgotten it was even there. Then she's snorting and laughing again, and even though Mike's sprawled out on the ground he could almost swear he's floating.

"That's the biggest priority," El giggles, turning to grin at Mike.

"Obviously," Mike grins back.

As El looks down at Mike, the butterflies in her chest start to feel more like pterodactyls.

She shouldn't like him. After all, she just moved here, and he's one of her first real friends ever. You're not supposed to like your friends, at least, El's pretty sure you're not. But maybe it'd be okay if it was Mike...there were always exceptions to everything, right?

Before El can dwell on this further, they're interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. El and Mike, startled, glance up to see a short, older man wearing a Radio Shack uniform looking down at them, a confused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Shit.

Mike and El squirm out of each other's way as they scramble to their feet, both burning with embarrassment.

"It's not what it looks like!" Mike exclaims breathlessly, adjusting his tie.

"What does it look like?" The man asks, raising an eyebrow.

As El tries to collect herself, she glances at the name tag the man's wearing: Bob Newby, manager.

Aka, Mike's boss.

El's eyes widen as guilt washes over her. Because of her clumsiness, Mike's probably going to get in trouble at work now. Gee, what a fantastic friend she was.

"It looks like we were...you know," Mike answers, looking flustered, "but—"

"—We weren't!" El cuts in helpfully, "I slipped and Mike caught me."

"It was my fault!" Mike adds, "I left these boxes on the floor..."

El waits for Mike's boss to get mad, maybe even snap at him, but that doesn't happen. Instead, Bob only gives him a chastising sort of smile and shakes his head.

"Well, this is why we clean up stuff when we drop it," he says lightly, "So we're not tripping over each other like a bunch of blind mice."

"I'm so sorry!" Mike laments, "I forgot, but I promise it won't happen again!"

"It's alright to get distracted," Bob says with a knowing smile, "But I still need you to keep things orderly around here."

El glances at Mike just in time to watch his face go from pink to crimson. "I-I wasn't distracted!" Mike insists, not making eye contact with El.

"Right," Bob says, still giving Mike that knowing smile.

Mike likes his boss. Bob's always been nothing but nice to him, he treated Mike like family, even, but right now, Bob is making this entire situation so much more awkward than it needs to be.

"Well, I'm going to just...help her pay...for her thing," Mike replies weakly.

"Alright — while you do that, I'm going to log the new inventory," Bob explains, holding up a clipboard, "Did you see the stereos we got in? They're pretty nifty!"

"I bet!" Mike nods, smiling awkwardly.

Bob gives them one last wave before walking over to the stereo aisle. Mike, head ducked low, hurriedly leads El over to the cash register.

"Sorry about that," he mumbles as he starts to ring El up.

"Sorry?" El echoes, confused.

"For being a wastoid?" Mike offers, glancing up at her.

"You're not a wastoid," El assures him, giving him a soft look.

"No, I am," Mike replies, reaching out to take the Walkman from her so he can scan it, "You just don't know me well enough yet."

"Then I should get to know you better," El offers offhandedly. She almost wants to wince, because holy shit, did she really just say that? To his face? But as the words leave her lips, she realizes she doesn't regret any aspect of them. She really does want to get to know Mike better — she wants to get to know everyone in the band better, really. Plus, once she says it, Mike gets so flustered that he nearly drops the Walkman, and it's one of the most unintentionally cutest things El's ever seen.

"Y-you should!" Mike finally manages to stammer in reply, hurriedly placing the cassette player inside a plastic shopping bag. He doesn't know if El meant that in a flirty way, or anything, but from how hard his face is burning, she might as well have.

El pays for her Walkman, Mike hands her the bag, and then she's walking away from him, leaving him in a starry-eyed, rose-scented trance.

"I'll see you Tuesday?" El asks over her shoulder as she heads towards the door.

"Tuesday," Mike replies dazedly, unable to stop the dopey grin that spreads across his face.

El smiles back, grabs the door handle, and before exiting, stops to look back at him one last time. "And, Mike?"

Mike pauses, looking back at her hopefully. "Yeah?"

"I really like Hawkins so far," she says, giving him a pointed look.

And now Mike's got Magic stuck in his head again.


It's Tuesday afternoon, around 3:30, and El's late for band practice.

The rest of the band is lounging around Mike's garage as they wait for her to arrive. The door is wide open, giving them a wide view of the driveway and the small grassy field that lies beyond it. Though they're in the midst of September, the air that wafts into the garage still radiates with the remnants of summer warmth.

Mike's parents had been generous enough to let them use the entire garage for their band. The space is decorated with posters of their favorite bands, mismatched furniture they managed to find at thrift stores, a few strands of Christmas lights, their instruments, and a new addition: a mic stand.

As they wait, Will is sitting at his keyboard, idly practicing a couple chords. Mike is seated on one of the mismatched couches, drumming his foot anxiously. Dustin is seated behind his drum set, feeling so bored that he's almost ready to fall asleep. A few minutes prior, Max complained that her hair was making her neck feel too hot, so both she and Lucas are seated on the ground as he braids it for her ("You know how to braid hair?!" Dustin had asked teasingly, to which Lucas pointed out that his mom made him do Erica's hair all the time, so Dustin really needed to just 'calm his shit').

Time ticks by, accented only by the distant hum of cicadas, the faint notes of Will's keyboard, and the muttered swears of Lucas' fumbled attempts at a French braid.

5 more minutes pass, and then Dustin once again finds himself drawing attention to the obvious. "So, is she even going to show up?" He finally grumbles, "Or is being late to stuff just like, her thing?"

"Give her time!" Mike frowns, glancing over at Dustin, "She doesn't know her way around town yet!"

"Hawkins isn't that big," Dustin mumbles, "It shouldn't be that hard."

"Give her a break," Will instructs sympathetically, "You got lost trying to find the Chemistry room, Dustin."

"That was like, only twice!" Dustin defends, "When I was a freshman!"

"The first time was when you were a freshman, the second time was when you were a sophomore," Will points out.

"How!?" Max snorts. She can't turn her head, on account of Lucas braiding her hair, so she settles for throwing Dustin a judgmental look out of the corner of her eye.

Dustin, unable to think of a valid excuse, simply makes an annoyed whine in response.

Max mimics his whine, and of course, that moment of them making absurd whining sounds at each other is the same moment that El finally arrives.

"El!" Max exclaims in surprise (and a bit of embarrassment, because now El's totally gonna think that they're all a bunch of spazzes), "You're here!"

"Hi!" El smiles, stepping into the garage entryway and waving at everyone.

"Hey!" Mike beams, waving back as he straightens up on the couch.

"What took you so long?" Lucas adds dryly, finishing off Max's braid with a hair-tie.

"I accidentally went onto Piney Wood Drive," El explains, rubbing her arm as she smiles apologetically, "Instead of Piney Wood Lane."

"That's fine," Mike rebuffs, waving her apology aside, "I make that mistake like, all the time."

"You make the mistake of getting lost to your own house all of the time?" Lucas inquires flatly, rising to his feet.

"Way to pull a Dustin," Max snorts, following Lucas' lead.

Mike and Dustin both make indignant exclamations at the same time, earning a few laughs from the rest of the group.

"Anyway," Will continues once the laughs settle down, "We're glad you're here, El."

"Thank you," El replies gratefully.

As Mike looks her over, he notices that her Converse sneakers are sporting fresh dirt and grass stains. "Did you…walk here?" He asks concernedly.

El follows his gaze down to her feet. "Uh, yeah," she mumbles, "I don't have a car, so…"

"You shouldn't have to walk so far!" Will frowns, "You should have told us you didn't have a car."

"It wasn't that bad," El hesitates, "I used to walk everywhere in Chicago."

"Well, if you ever want a ride anywhere, you can let me know," Max offers, "I'm the wheels for this band."

Max points to something outside of the garage, and El turns her head to spot the dingy, windowless white van parked in the driveway.

"That's your — our — van?" El asks doubtfully.

"Yeah, I know it's pretty sketchy-looking," Max admits. "But that's what makes it kind of awesome, too."

"You could add our logo to the side," El offers tentatively, "Maybe that would make it look less…"

"Creepy?" Lucas offers dryly.

"Yes," El smiles sheepishly.

"We could…" Max begins hesitantly, "But…"

El eyes her curiously. "But?"

The other band members exchange reluctant glances, each daring someone else to finish the sentence.

"We don't have a band name!" Mike finally admits, wincing slightly.

El blinks at them, waiting for them to all laugh, because they have to be joking, right? What kind of band doesn't even have a name. But then a few seconds pass, no one laughs, and El painstakingly realizes that they're being 100% serious.

"We…don't have a name?" El asks slowly.

"Not really," Will admits.

"Then what do people call you?" El exclaims incredulously.

"No one really calls us anything," Max shrugs, "People don't really know about us."

"What about when you play shows?"

"We've never played a show," Lucas grumbles.

"Never!?"

"We tried to play at the spring formal last year!" Mike pipes up, "But they got a DJ instead."

El stares at them blankly, completely at a loss for words.

"Hey!" Dustin snaps defensively, "Just because we don't have a name, and nobody knows about us, and we don't write our own songs, and we've never had a gig doesn't mean we're not a real band!"

"Right!" El nods quickly, though she still looks pretty baffled, "Of course."

"And, if you're going to be in this band, you gotta know our rules," Dustin continues, eyeing El seriously.

"Rules?" El repeats, frowning.

"The stupid rules," Max sighs as she tilts her head back to the ceiling and rolls her eyes.

"They're not stupid!" Dustin exclaims, "We established them when we first created our band!"

"He's right," Lucas nods, "El has to know them."

"What are they?" El asks anxiously.

"Number one," Lucas begins, counting off the first rule on his finger, "We don't lie to each other and we don't keep secrets from each other."

"Two," Dustin chimes in, "If you draw first blood, you gotta apologize first."

"First blood?!" El pales in alarm.

"It's one of their geek sayings," Max explains, "Basically, don't start shit unless you're willing to apologize."

"Oh," El relaxes.

"Three," Dustin continues, "You gotta know how to play an instrument, obviously."

At the third rule, El hesitates. She makes an uncomfortable sort of stammering sound as she looks away, not really making eye contact with anyone.

"Is everything okay, El?" Mike asks worriedly, brow furrowing as he looks her over.

"I don't…" El begins feebly, "…I don't know how."

"How to what?" Will questions.

"Play an instrument," El mumbles.

Now everyone but El are the ones left in stunned silence. Awkward glances are exchanged, and El feels her heart sink low in her chest.

"Why did you join a band if you can't even play an instrument!?" Lucas eventually scoffs, crossing his arms as he eyes El skeptically.

El pauses, looking a little hurt. "You said you needed a singer. I know how to sing, so…"

"Exactly!" Mike snaps, frowning at Lucas, "She's our lead singer! Why does it even matter whether or not she can play an instrument?!"

"It's band rules!" Dustin snaps back.

"The rules don't even matter!"

"Yes, they do!"

"How is she going to read our sheet music?" Lucas points out, "Or know anything that we're talking about?"

"She can learn!" Mike insists.

"How?" Lucas, Dustin, and El ask at the same time.

Mike, feeling unexpectedly put on the spot, reddens. "I…I can teach her," he stammers, turning to look at El, "I can teach you how to play the guitar, if you want."

"Really?" El asks, drawing in an excited breath.

"Sure!" Mike smiles shyly, "It's pretty easy, and then you'd know how to read sheet music, and how to coordinate with the rest of us better."

"That's a really good idea!" Will nods, "The more you know about music theory, the better."

"But we can't stop rehearsals just so you can teach her stuff," Lucas points out, "The rest of us still have to practice too."

"So, I won't do it during band practice, then," Mike shrugs, "El and I can practice on a different day."

"When?" El inquires.

"Well," Mike frowns, racking his brain as he thinks through his schedule, "I work Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and we have band practice every Tuesday, so…would Thursdays work?"

"Thursdays would work!" El nods, looking increasingly excited.

"Awesome," Max shrugs, "So it's settled then."

"Yeah," Mike nods, and then it really hits him. He's just arranged weekly one-on-one, totally private guitar lessons with El, the girl that he has a crush on even though he's totally not supposed to.

This can't end well, he begrudgingly thinks, but then he glances over at El again, and she's giving him the cutest little smile, and he realizes that this is actually the best thing to ever happen to him.

"Great," Dustin mumbles. He knows it's probably terrible of him, but a part of Dustin almost feels disappointed. He's still not thrilled about El just walking right into their friendship like this, and he can't help but think about how much easier it would be if a simple rule fracture was enough to send her off and get things back to normal.

"Can we actually get practice started now?" Max asks, walking over to pick up her bass. After sitting around for so long, she can feel herself starting to get fidgety. She doesn't like being in one place doing one thing for very long, it drives her crazy.

"I'm ready," Will nods, cracking his knuckles.

"Did you listen to our songs?" Lucas asks, grabbing his guitar as he watches El carefully.

El nods. "All weekend." She turns to throw Mike a conspiratorial grin, and Lucas can't help but feel like he's left out of some kind of inside joke between them.

"Good," Mike grins back, rising to his feet and grabbing his guitar, "Why don't we start with something easy?"

"Like what?" El asks, walking over to the mic.

"How's I Melt With You sound?" Mike suggests.

"Probably bad, since we're going to be playing it," Max jokes wryly.

"But that's one of the songs we're actually really good at," Will is quick to defend.

"Good point," Max shrugs, flipping her braid over her shoulder, "I guess we don't suck all the time."

There are a couple of sonorous, off-kilter minutes comprised of various musical notes as the band tunes up their instruments and El warms up her voice. Then, once Dustin gives his drumsticks a few introductory taps, the band launches into the song, sounding way better than El admittedly expected, all things considered.

El begins to sing, and her voice, still as melodious as it'd been at her audition, meshes with their music as easily as if she'd been singing with them for years.

Their music reverberates through the amps and throughout the garage, filling their ears with a new warmth. Though both Lucas and Dustin are reluctant to admit it, deep down they both realize that the song does sound a lot better when they have someone to sing the words.

They're still not planning on admitting that anytime soon though.

As the song winds down to the bridge, El's soft humming buzzes throughout the air, making the entire room feel a little hazy.

"I'll stop the world and melt with you," El sings, glancing over her shoulder, and for a fleeting, purposeful moment, Dustin could almost swear that her shy gaze lingers on Mike.

Dustin frowns, but keeps playing, willing himself to believe that he's just imagining things.

Mike smiling, has to force himself to do the same.