On Your Nees

"Hey, Vic, did you see that guy? He came in here trying to join our frat, wearing these faggy little boots. Ya, know like in that British band? What a sissy!" Ernie spouted, slapping his knee.

"You mean the Beatles?" Victor replied, leaning on the wall.

"Well, uh, yeah," Ernie scratched his head.

"The band you love?" he crossed his arms.

"Yeah..." Ernie shifted his weight uncomfortably.

"All because you didn't like his shoes? I thought only chicks noticed that stuff."

"Are you callin' me a queer? Cuz I'm not," Ernie huffed, storming out the door.

"Okay, whatever...I'm gonna grab myself a drink." He muttered to himself as he jumped the last few stairs and walted into the kitchen.

* * *

Across the gym was a group of three boys surrounding a smaller one. Victor didn't recognize the last kid. The others, however were regular trouble makers; Stanley--the muscle, Bruce--the brains and Leo their little leader.

Bruce was getting red in the face yelling at the poor kid. Leo was leaning up against a wall smirking. Stanley backed up for some room and charged at the kid, throwing him back into the wall.

In four strides Victor was there, yanking Stanley off the kid, holding him up by the scruff of his collar. "You two," he said pointing at Leo and Bruce, "get over to the principal's office. Right now. I'll follow up with you shortly. And take him with you." He shoved Stanley their way.

The new kid was crouched in the corner, the hood of his grey sweater pulled over his face. Victor took a deep breath and walked over to him. The kid had a bloody nose from the attack. "What's your name, kid?"

"Oliver Skye," he answered quietly with a thick Scottish accent.

"And what happened here, Oliver?"

"I don't believe those boys liked me because of my accent."

"Maybe. Some people can't accept differences," he pulled the kid up. "Maybe you should toughen up; not take their shit."

Victor sent one of his favorite students, Jennifer, with Oliver to the nurse's office. He himself went to Winslow, the principal's office. Winslow was a pain in his ass, always treating Victor like the lesser man.

The office was completely empty, expect for himself and Winslow. "Adams, why did you send my son in here?"

"He and his little gang were harassing one of my students--"

"Can't do your job?" Winslow sneered, "Maybe if you had been rather than daydreaming, you could have prevented it."

"Look he gave the kid a bloody nose. Maybe if you did a better job of parenting your son wouldn't be such a dick," Victor spat, "Just cuz he's your kid doesn't mean he should get special treatment."

"Enough!" He retorted, "Just because you were the head honcho when we were in college, doesn't mean you are here. I'll change the kid's schedule so he'll have your class at a different time. He's new, it won't be a problem. What's his name?"

"Oliver Skye." Victor mumbled.

"Ah, yes our little Scottish exchange student," He walked out from behind his desk. "Shame this happens on his first day."

"Indeed," Victor sighed.

"I'll be giving Stanley a two week suspension, the others a week of detention," Winslow muttered, "You however, will be suspended without pay for a week."

"For what?" Victor squawked.

"Professional misconduct." Winslow smirked, "Finish the day out and go home."

***

Victor had three more class periods after his meeting with Winslow. The rest of his school day, he felt like he was stuck in the mud. On the way home, he picked up two six-packs of his favorite beer, it was cheap but went down real smooth.

He was still a few blocks off from his house, when it dawned on him that he didn't have to be miserable the whole week that he had off just mopping around. There was Nicole, the woman from his blind date. She seemed nice even though he had been stupid, she'd given him her number. He bet she was really sweet. Victor had always been told that a guy should wait three days before calling a girl for another date. One day early shouldn't hurt.

He gazed down at the cell phone, in the corner it was flashing red showing low-battery power. He grimaced, hoping he still had enough juice to make the call. He glanced at the number he had rewritten onto the back of a business card, then back to the screen making sure he dialed the number right.

The screen faded black, "Fuck!" he chucked his cell into the passenger seat.

He slowed his car down as he saw a beat-up mini-mart/ There was a good chance that they had at least a pay phone. Quickly, he looked around for any oncoming traffic. Seeing that there was none, he swung into the parking lot, seeing two pay phones. Victor eagerly leapt out of the car, almost forgetting to place the emergency brake let alone lock it.

As he jogged over to the pay phone, he felt around in his pockets for change and was short of a dollar. He slumped back to the car to scrounge around for more change. He looked on the floor and under its mats and found a quarter and nickel. Then he proceeded to wiggle between the driver and passenger seats into the back feeling in between their crevices. His hand latched onto what felt quarter sized but just turned out to be a rather large button. A faint shining on the back floor proved to be his final quarter.

Giddily, he grabbed it and ran over to the pay phones. The first one's cord drooped to the ground with the phone cut away. His heart sank a little, but then he noticed the other phone was in working condition. It, however was a little preoccupied at the moment with a pretty little lady. He glimpsed back over towards his car, wondering if it would just be better to go home and charge his phone when he realized that his car door was wide open. Victor could just leave it open and watch it, but he really didn't want to risk having something stolen when his back was turned. So once again, he rushed over to slam the door shut and lock it.

He staggered back to the phones, feeling like luck was betraying him. He caught a glimpse of the first lady walking away but another stepped up behind her appearing to make a claim to the booth. He silently cursed her as he prepared to fall in line for now he has seen in the window of the market, 'No Public Phone Calls.' By great chance, she realized that something more important awaited her in the market and she pressed on.

Victor wiped his sweaty hands on his pants and plucked the number from his pocket. His fingers shake and twitch as he dials her number, hopefully punching in the right number. He'd have to wait for the voice on the other end to say hello.

It began to ring, his heart caught up in his throat.

***

The lights were out, the store empty and she was at the door locking things up tight for the night. Nicole was becoming impatient with Victor, he should have called by now.

Her cell phone sang out that she had an incoming call. "Hello?" she didn't recognize the number, one of those eight-hundred ones.

"Is this Nicole?" A voice rasped, send a chill down her spine.

"Yes, yes it is. Who may I ask is calling?" she inquired.

"It's Victor, sorry trying to catch my breath." He wheezed, "My cell phone died, I'm calling from a pay phone."

"Oh Vicky!" she perked up, "It's good hearing from you."

"Nicci, look I--"

"It's Nic," she spat.

"Well I thought that if I'm Vicky, that you're.." he stammered.

"I know, but I prefer when I am referred to as Nic."

"Well anyways Nic," he paused, "I was wondering if it wasn't too early to ask you out on a second date."

She yanked on her hair and twirled it on her finger, "Let me think on that."

His heart plummeted down to the pit of his stomach. Victor must have seemed to desperate. He moved to fast. It was a shame because he really liked her, even if it had only been one date.

"So when do you wish to see me?"

"How about Wednesday, say six?" he was beginning to feel a little hopeful again.

"Great. You can pick me up from the store, I'll be closing up around then."