by Dave Ferraro
The next day, as I hopped on the school bus, all eyes locked onto me. Word had gotten around about my "fight" with Nathan. People whispered. Someone laughed.
"Congrats, Justin. You almost got our best football player expelled," said a guy from somewhere behind me.
I didn't turn to look. I didn't stop moving until reaching the back of the bus and settling into an empty seat next to the window. A wad of paper flew through the air and landed in the empty seat ahead of me. I hunched down and looked out the window, watching as my tree-lined neighborhood vanished from sight and was soon replaced by the tall buildings of downtown Decatur, Georgia, one of many towns swallowed up in the sprawl of metro Atlanta. It was all I could do to ignore the jibes and taunts lobbed at me, but I was in no mood to get my butt kicked by standing up for myself.
I could hardly believe the school board had almost expelled Nathan. They never punished football players, especially not all-stars. The Quarterback Club was legendary for getting its way with anything. I probably should have been more worried about the potential fallout, but all I could think of was Katie and how she'd reward me for coming to her rescue.
After the bus reached the school, I trudged into the basketball gymnasium where school officials liked to corral the students before homeroom began. I looked for Katie and noticed she sat with her two best friends, Jenny Matthews and Annie Holmes. The three of them looked at me, then turned back to each other, glee in their eyes, mouths chattering at light speed. They could be talking about knitting sweaters for all I knew, but it didn't matter. It felt like every stray gaze was meant for me and every moving mouth was gossiping about my fight with Nathan.
I wanted to sit next to Katie. Wanted to see her smile, the curve of her lips, and know the light in those jade eyes of hers was meant for me. Instead, I veered right, walked up the bleachers, and took the first empty seat I found. I cursed myself for my inability to man up and take my rightful seat next to her. Then again, what made me think I even had a chance? My chubby frame, thick glasses, and long hair didn't exactly make me God's gift to women.
A group of Goth students entered the gym. Hoots and hollers rang out from behind me. I looked up and saw Nathan Spelman and the other football flunkies hurling insults at the odd group. My body went cold. I hadn't realized how close I was sitting to them. I tried to make myself small and unnoticeable. My generous proportions didn't cooperate. If the school board had almost expelled Nathan, why was he already back at school? I'd expected a suspension at the least. Stupid jocks get away with everything.
The Goth group, two guys and a girl, tromped past in their platform shoes. Thank God they existed to take unwanted attention off me. I might be nerdy, but at least I didn't look bizarre. As they passed me, the Goth girl's eyes widened and settled on me with such intensity that I turned away and checked for loose boogers. I couldn't tell if she was sizing me up for a cannibalistic ritual or wondering if I might be a good recruit to her group of weirdoes.
I stared at my Lord of the Rings backpack instead and decided now would be a good time to catch up on homework. Pushing my worries away, I made the finishing touches on my History essay due in another week. Going to MIT was my dream. History class wasn't exactly going to get me there, but I had to maintain decent grades across the board if I wanted to stand a chance.
The bell rang. I jammed my books into my raggedy backpack until it was bursting at the seams.
"Woops!" said a deep voice. A large foot connected with my History book and notebook, sent them skidding down the bleachers and into the crowd of students filing out of the gym. Pages of my essay scattered, floating down to the floor to be walked on.
Nathan gave me a sarcastic look of surprise as he and his group of guffawing toadies sauntered past.
"Letters to your mommy?" one of them said.
Pure rage infected my body. I gripped my Calculus textbook in white-knuckled anger. Thankfully, some rational part of my brain locked my muscles in place before they led me to certain doom. I packed up my other books and waited for the crowd of students to die down so I could find my book and essay. My heart pounded anxiously. All that work, probably rendered illegible from footprints.
I retrieved the book from the bottom bleacher as the last few students filed out of the gym.
"This yours?" said a feminine voice.
I turned and was shocked to see the Goth girl handing me a sheaf of papers with dirty footprints all over them.
"Yeah, th-thanks," I said, stuttering slightly.
Her eyes were an amazing light violet hue lost in a sea of black eyeliner. Her gaze seemed to lose focus as if she were looking through my skin and into my mind. I felt very uncomfortable being the subject of that questing stare. I looked down at the trampled essay to avoid her eyes. When I flicked my gaze up again, she was already leaving the gym. I felt like a jerk for not being more grateful, but she creeped me out.
I made my way to homeroom which was bound to be another unpleasant experience since Katie's two best buds sat right behind me. Sure enough, Annie and Jenny's eyes widened the moment I stepped through the door. They huddled together and started whispering. Probably something terrible about me. I did my best to ignore them and dropped into my desk. I shuffled through my essay, wincing at how dirty the pages were. I had planned to type it out anyway. Just as long as I could still read it, I was good.
Jenny tapped my shoulder. "I'll bet you think you're the man now, don't you?"
Annie giggled. "Justin? The man? More like the boy."
I gritted my teeth and tried to think of something witty to say. Nothing came to mind except possibly calling them demonic parasites, which, while descriptive, probably would not help me out with Katie. I made a show of reading my essay, pretending I hadn't heard them from all of two feet away.
"Guys are such creeps," Jenny said. "I don't even know why girls put up with it."
Annie gave the sigh of the long suffering. "Tell me about it. Like that skeezy Alan Weaver. He's such a stalker, always staring at Cindy Mueller like he wants to rape her."
I had a feeling these two would fit right in on a morning talk show some day, gossiping about movie stars, or maybe starring in one of the Real Housewives reality shows so they could tell a national audience about their terrible sex lives.
My eyes wandered toward the open door of the classroom. The hulking figure of Nathan stood there. He bared his teeth at me. Cracked his knuckles. Walked away.
I had the queasy feeling saving Katie had doomed me to an even worse fate.
Chapter Three: Sweet Blood of Mine