43. Fight

It’s interesting how life can work sometimes.

How one random comment can be followed by another random comment. How one plus one doesn’t always necessarily equal two, but a number far greater.

I’m nearing the open area of the cafeteria when I pass Gus and his boys. I wonder if he even bothers going to class or if he really, truly is just a high school bully cliché.

“Miss your little slut?”

There’s no chance that I misheard him. The words cut deep.

I’m carrying a paper bag containing an apple and a sandwich and some chips and a can of generic pop.

It takes me maybe two seconds to turn to my right and raise my hand and ram the bag against Gus’s ugly fat pimply face. It lands somewhere between his forehead and his nose. I was going for the nose, but it doesn’t matter because it did the trick.

A steady burst of blood splats out on the white floor as Gus goes backward, and I proceed to take the bag again and ram it against the side of his big flabby ear.

Then things get blurry, and I’m being both pounced on and pulled away and yelled at and smothered.

This melee seems to go on a long time, but it’s just probably a matter of seconds.

When I finally see the light of day someone’s pulling me back and I see that it’s Oli and it’s crazy how strong the guy is. In front of me is Gus buckled on the ground with a hand covering the geyser that’s his nose as his eyes squint.

That can of generic pop sure did the trick.

His buddies are at his side while a couple of teachers are around us and a whole bunch of students are circling this circus.

I see Mr. Meiners, who shakes his head and jerks my arm and tells me to come with him. 

As I do, I hear something crazy.

Applause.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Mr. Meiners is leading me to the principal’s office, and I’m wondering why he isn’t leading Gus or even seeing if the guy is okay.

“I’m tired of it.”

“Tired of what?”

“If I don’t do something, he’s just going to keep it up.”

Mr. Meiners tugs on my arm and pulls me to a stop. “Listen to me and listen good, Chris. Don’t be stupid. Don’t. Okay?”

I’m shocked, not because of his grip on my sweatshirt or because he’s angry, but because he’s talking in a hushed tone.

“You just don’t get it, do you?”

I shake my head.

“Mind your own business and stay away from trouble, especially that kind.”

“You don’t know what he said.”

“I don’t care what he said, and you shouldn’t either.” He breathes out and looks up and down the hall. “Just stop bringing attention to yourself. Stop being a hero. You gotta see the bigger picture, Chris.”

“You sound like the principal.”

He yanks my sleeve hard enough to make me grimace. “And you sound like some ordinary moronic teen. The thing you just can’t comprehend—that you can’t see—is that you’re not. You’re different, Chris.”

By now another teacher is coming down the hallway with Gus. Mr. Meiners leads me to Miss Harking’s office.

Which stinks, because I was kinda hungry.

Like any ordinary moronic teen might be.