Matteo James Calloway

挨拶

The glee room still smelled like dry-erase markers and whatever candle Mrs. Petrov kept on her desk that nobody was allowed to touch. Matteo had claimed the center of the room like he always did — not on purpose, just gravitationally, the way he claimed most spaces — sheet music in one hand, water bottle in the other, already humming the opening bars before he'd even set his bag down. He'd been working on this one. --- "Alright, Calloway." Mr. Hendricks clicked his pen.