Porter's locker is next to mine. He's that guy nobody really likes because he's a complete douchebag. However, since he isn't into dumb shit like Dungeons and Dragons and he's rich, he's never quite at the bottom of the social tier. We have three classes together but I don't talk to him. I think he's friends with Crispin.
"I saw you," he says one day.
"Oh yeah?" I reply, because I'm not a complete douchebag. "Where? The mall?"
"I live like two blocks away from you, dumbass. I saw you in your car."
"Okay." God, I haven't been at school ten minutes and I want to hit someone.
"So you and Crispin are hooking up, huh?"
I wonder if I look like people do in the movies, when they go all stiff and scared shitless. I try to play it cool. "What?"
Porter slams his locker shut and leans against it with a smarmy grin. "You might want to be more careful when you make out with another guy in broad daylight."
That must have been when I drove Crispin home on Saturday morning. It was pretty early, like seven-thirty, so I had figured that no one would be awake to see it. "Thanks for the tip." Do I sound nonchalant or like I'm about to piss myself? Given how quickly my body is going hot and cold, I'm not sure I'd be able to tell if my own urine were running down my leg.
"Anytime. Thanks for signing me in to P.E."
"For fuck's sake, Porter," I grit out in a low voice. The shit did pick a perfect time to blackmail me—no one is paying attention to us yet, but I can see LeAndre heading my way for first period.
"Or you can buy me lunch," Porter offers. "But why don't we save that for tomorrow?"
It just gets worse.
We're coming out of Spanish class. I don't think I caught a word of it, my mind was filled with ways to get out of being Porter's bitch. Just my luck that the art hipsters are in front of the door.
"Hey, cocksucker," Jay says, and shoves Crispin so hard that he falls over. His books fly out of his hands, his pencils skitter across the floor; his breath comes out in a huge whoosh as he lands on his back. What the hell? Everyone sees it, but not even his friends do a damn thing. They just watch or look at each other, like
ZOMG, like, jocks, right? We're so persecuted.
Oh my god, I hate everyone today.
The words burst out of me before I even think. "Jay! You goddamn jackass! What the hell is wrong with you?" Sticking a finger in his face I yell, "Leave him alone, or I swear to god I will put my foot
so
far up your ass, your fucking teeth will fall out!"
Jay gapes for a moment and the whole hall goes silent. Shit. Shit. Everyone is staring at me. What do I do?
Think, Aaron. Think.
LeAndre steps forward and extends Crispin a hand. "Not cool, man," he says to Jay, who looks like he's about to kill me.
"Aaron." Coach's voice booms into my ear. I'm in deep shit. "Come with me."
Detention. Again. Morning and afternoon until the end of the April, and I've been barred from my damn senior prom. My parents are not pleased.
"Jay isn't in there with you? That's bullshit," LeAndre tells me in Calc.
"You're telling me," I whisper back. "You'd think because the season's over Coach would quit letting him get away with every fucking thing."
"But bro," Le Andre pauses with a laugh. "Your voice was so loud. It was like the voice of God, I swear. There's not way you could have gotten away with it."
I shrug, trying to pretend that the heat rushing to my face has nothing to do with my feelings. "I was already in a bad mood, I guess."
LeAndre doesn't get to say whatever he was going to because Mr. Mendoza has us split into groups, but he gives me a look that does not bode well, like he knows I'm hiding something. My gut twists through the remaining forty minutes. When we pick up our backpacks he casually asks, "Do you have any classes with Viera?"
I shake my head, relieved that it's a question I can answer honestly. "Just gym, and I see him around when I have detention. He's an office aide."
"Huh." He nods thoughtfully.
"What?"
"Naw, you just seem to know him a little. I've never seen you so mad, is all."
I really wish I could say something LeAndre would appreciate, like
Yeah, in the Biblical sense
, but instead I freeze up like a teenage popsicle. Is it obvious? Am I obvious? What if my parents find out? I'm not ready to tell them yet. Will they still let me go to college?
A punch on the arm snaps me out of it. "Aaron, it's cool," LeAndre says. "You did the right thing. Jay will come around. Everything will be cool."
Am I just imagining that he means more than just that Jay will get over being yelled at?
"What reason did Coach give?" Crispin asks later as he walks me to study hall.
"Profanity and threatening another student. I'm lucky I didn't get suspended."
"And Jay gets nothing," he says wryly.
"Yeah."
"Of course," Crispin snorts. "Can't have the precious all-star in detention."
I don't respond. Frankly, I'm sick of this self-pitying, all-people-who-play-sports-are-evil attitude that his group holds.
"Thanks for standing up for me."
"Yeah." I'm not really in the mood to be set up as his fucking jock in shining jersey.
"Are you going to get in trouble at home?"
"Already did." Damn it, I don't want to talk about this anymore.
"Sorry."
"Why can't you just defend yourself, Crispin?" I snap. "You're a goddamn black belt."
He actually stops in his tracks. "I beg your pardon?"
We have to wait for the Model U.N. dorks to pass us, and then I continue, "Like it's all up to me because somehow my life got set up so that I'm friends with a bully. If you were fucking some guy in band, you wouldn't ask him to defend you."
Crispin folds his arms. "If I were fucking some guy in band, we'd both be out."
