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There was a commotion on the community center stage as a pair of teen boys got into a fight about how exactly the third met the second. They were helping set up for the community band. They were the only ones there at the time.
"You know you can just ask me?" The third spoke up causing the other two to glare at him. He shrugged and sat back. "By the way you're both wrong anyway."
“But you didn't start school with Phil until middle school.” The first said pointed at the second.
“I didn’t have a class with you until we were in eighth grade? I am right about that right?” The first boy, Phil, asked.
“Yeah, we didn’t have a class together till eighth, but we met before we started middle school," the third huffs and raises his hands out to his sides, "And right here on this very stage too." The other two looked at him with baffled looks.
"Really?" the third nodded and leaned back in the chair that he put down.
“Yep, I even talked to you too.”
“Clint, I don’t remember ever meeting you here at SPAC.” Phil was starting to look distressed.
Clint lets out a little laugh. "Then let me tell you." Clint sits back and the other two pull up chairs as well.
"It was right before fifth grade. . ."
Clint sighed as he walked onto the stage to help set up for the community band. As he passed one of the older volunteers handed him a stand and pointed to where he needed to take it. When he went back to grab another stand he saw another boy around his age. Which may make this more bearable.
Clint tapped him on the shoulder as they both walked back. The boy turned to face him and smiled. “I’m so glad that I’m not the only kid here today. Though I haven’t noticed you in the band.”
“I’m not in the band. I like listening to music. My brother works here and dragged me along to set up today.” The other boy nodded and they started walking again.
“I’m glad that your brother did that. Not many kids our age would be here in the middle of the summer. Most just want to go to pools and such.”
Clint shook his head, allowing the other boy a glimpse of his hearing aids. “Me and water don’t get along.” Clint wanted to cut his hair but they didn't have the money and he refused to let his brother close to his head with sharp things. He still had a scar from letting him do it before. Never again. The boy didn’t make a commit on it other than a low hum that Clint could barely hear.
They were both handed stands as they continued to talk. It was inconsequential stuff, and none of it would have identified either. After the stage was set up Clint went to find his brother in the lighting rigging. As he sat on the edge of the rigging listening to the music, he watched the boy from earlier. The boy got a solo near the end of one of the other songs and the band director pointed him out to the audience.
“Now normally I’d let the audience read the program for the soloists, but today we had our youngest member do one and I need to point it out. Phil Coulson please stand.” The boy stood. “Phil, had that wonderful clarinet solo that you all just heard. And he’s not even started middle school. I can’t wait to see where this boy goes.” The audience gave such an applause that the rigging shook. Phil’s face had turned beet red. He didn’t hide his face though.
The band director continued on with the program as Clint thought about that name. Phil Coulson, he’d needed to remember that. Maybe just maybe he’d been in his class come the start of school. He’d already been kinder than most other boys their age ever had been.
“. . . Phil was the only reason why I knew that people around here may be more accepting then the places that I had been placed with as a foster child.”
Phil stood there dumbfounded. “You alright?” the last boy said. Phil gave a tiny nod. “You don’t look like it.”
Clint glared at the last boy. “Tony shut your mouth, please.” Tony did so.
“Clint, you once asked me why I learned sign language.”
Clint’s face scrunched up. “Yeah you said it was for a kid that you only ever met once.”
“I thought I never met him again, but it was you. You were the reason I learned sign language.” It was Clint’s turn to sit there dumbfounded. They had both influenced the other in ways that neither saw coming. Tony started to laugh and Clint shoved him so hard that he ended up falling into the pit. Luckily unlike when Clint had fallen the year before the net held and he was uninjured.