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Clayton
Abigail didn’t come back to class. Guess I pissed her off. Harmand, I’m finding more and more, is something of a dickhead. Scratch that, he’s King Dickhead. I really don’t like the guy. Vic, on the other hand, seems like good people. I wander my way down the hall to my next class, Creative Writing 102. It’s a College Prep course and a bit over the top for most of the jocks, which explains why there aren’t any in the hallway.
As I approach, I see papers and notebooks scattered all over the floor with small hands scrambling to pick them up. Upon closer inspection, I realize it’s the nerdy looking kid that was with Abigail at lunch. Everyone is just walking right past him and even stepping right over his hunched little back, just missing his fingers as he pulls them back to keep them from being stomped. They just laugh as they go past.
With a shake of my head, I bend down and he jerks back as I hand him The Prisoner of Azkaban. “You know, if you like this one, you’re gonna love the next one. So much better than the movies.” I give him my million-dollar smile and he shakily takes the book from me, clutching it and his other papers to his chest.
“Th-thank you,” he whispers so low I barely hear him.
“You in this class?” I ask shortly and he nods. I grab his bag and help him get his stuff figured out. “Let’s get you in here and get you to your desk, okay? Name’s Clay.”
“Adam.” He nods, still clutching the book to his tiny chest.
“Good to meet ya, Adam.” As we go inside, I see Harmand, figures the fucker would be in this class too. He watches us as we sit down.
“So, you’ve read the Harry Potter Series?” Adam asks as he puts the book into his bag and pulls out his notebooks, lining them up in rows with his pens.
I nod, sitting down at the desk beside him. “Yup, but don’t broadcast it, I have a rep as a jock to upkeep.” I wink at him and he finally smiles. He’s a cute kid.
“Fucking fags,” I hear Harmand chirp from across the room. “Fag found a new BFF to gobble his nob.”
“You know what?” I stand up so suddenly my chair knocks backward. “I’ve been here seven whole hours and I’ve had about enough of your shit. You got something to say, Bro? Fucking say it!”
Harmand holds up his hands as the teacher comes flying into the room at the sound of the commotion.
“What’s the issue, boys?”
“Oh, nothing a bit of scrimmage won’t handle,” Harmand sneers, fluffing himself up.
“Bring it on, bitch! I’ll level you in ten seconds.” I take steps toward him and Adam tries to grab my hand.
“That’s it! New kid, out of here! I don’t even care what it’s about, I won’t have threats made in my classroom. You too, Mr. Amel, off to see Mr. Stevens. Right now! And if you two come to blows in the hallway, it’ll be the end of your football careers! Do you hear me?”
I don’t even bother to argue. I am royally fucked. My first day and I’m already being tossed out of class. Great, there’s going to be a fucking ass reaming waiting for me when I get home. He’ll be trashed and in a foul mood—maybe I’ll get lucky and he’ll miss hitting me in the face—this time.
