FicWad

Sorry I'm bad at summaries.

I walked down the damp hallways of my high school, not so much as glancing at the students passing me by. They all looked the same to me; curious eyes, pale skin, laughing eyes. They also looked at me the same, all of them. I was nothing but fresh new kid meat. A new face to study sullenly, a new set of eyes to look cautiously into. A new hairstyle to make fun of. I counted all the people passing me, and not one of them had my uneven cut: long, dark bangs on one side, fading red stubble on the other. And I don't mean ginger red; my hair had been dyed a deep shade of blood red over the summer, but it hadn't lasted too long.
And neither was I, evidently; I read it in their stares. Who's this new kid? Who's the faggot? Who's the emo? All their eyes asked the same questions. Was he smart or was he dumb? Was he a clown or a prick? Did he have siblings? Yet everyone seemed anxious to come close enough to me to ask these questions. I nibbled my lip ring; maybe to some of these kids, they weren't worth asking.
I sighed and heaved my slipping gym bag back up over my shoulder. First hour of the day was to be spent in ratty clothes, chasing around some ball, getting tripped by some jock. Such was life in gym class... for me, anyway. I was the only boy in my old school who wasn't cool enough to stand with the other guys in packs around the gym, sneaking peeks at girls' bouncing breasts as they jumped to spike a volleyball. No, I was the one in the corner, cleaning the dirt from under my fingernails and acting like I was too good to care about fitting in. I mean, I don't go out of my way to conform, but it would be nice to be the one throwing golf balls at the dorky outcasts instead of actually being on the receiving end.
It would also be nice to have a girlfriend.
I chuckled at the thought. Yeah, right. For one thing, girls were more of a plan B for me; I was more on the homosexual side, though I welcomed thoughts of sex with girls. But most of that stayed a fantasy; I only ever came close to that becoming a reality when my best friend, Angelina, tried to pull a fast one on me. I would have accepted, had I not had a boyfriend at the time. And technically, I was still a virgin, except for that one time when my boyfr--
Shoelaces!
My feet flew right out from under me and I crashed to the linoleum, landing smack on my tight little ass. I flushed red from head to toe as the bottom of my gym bag ripped and a Fangoria magazine skidded across the floor, along with my eyeliner, gym clothes and a can of cherry Coke. People stopped to gape at me. And here we have Exhibit A, I swore I heard a little voice say from somewhere among the sea of staring faces.
Just then, a sandy haired boy with biceps like rocks sauntered over and picked up my tube of Maybelline. He rolled its smooth black cyllindrical surface over and over in his hands, studying it as if it were some sort of candy. With a flip of his hair, he cocked his head to look at me.
"Hey, little girl," he said smoothly, "you dropped something." He dangled the eyeliner tube between thumb and forefinger, like it might bite, hovering it way over his head. I scrambled to my feet, trying not to rub my sore ass dramatically, and tried to jump for it. Like a dumbass, I was unsuccessful; it's hard to be successful at reaching things when you're only, like, five feet tall. Mr Sandy McBigot only laughed and I mentally smacked myself. Yeah, you're totally not provoking him at all, Frank, I thought, disdainful of myself.
I crossed my arms and glared up at him with determination, but before I could say anything he snorted and turned away. I peeked around his bodybuilder's frame just in time to see him drop my stick of eyeliner from at least 7 feet in the air, and then stomp on it with his huge red Ecko. I gawked furiously as his clones gathered around him to laugh at the black mess of makeup and plastic on the floor.
"Ooh shit." Girls giggled and boys sniggered around me as I stared at what remained of my eyeliner. Was I going to let this slide? Hell no. I took enough shit at my old school. Now was time for a change. I cracked my knuckles for dramatic effect and took long strides after unsuspecting Sandy McBigot and his cronies as they swaggered away from me.
Suddenly, hard hands grasped my shoulders.
"Are you new here?" whispered a voice behind me. I whirled around furiously, wondering who the hell had the nerve to get in my way and how he must not like his nutsack very much.
But as I met his eyes, I couldn't say anything. I couldn't move. I melted on the spot. My mouth hung open and my eyes locked onto those deep, olive green eyes. And right then and there, I'm pretty sure I fell headfirst in love and broke it.
He didn't seem to notice how stupefied I was by his graceful presence. But he was staring straight at me, rather quizzically. And suddenly, like a flying brick, I remembered he had asked me a question.
"I-I'm new here," I stammered smoothly.
His shoulders seemed to relax slightly. "That explains it," he sighed.
"Explains what?" I sighed back, only I sounded more dreamy than exasperated.
"Why you'd even think to pick a fight with them," said the kid. He smiled slightly as he looked me up and down. I couldn't help but blush stupidly.
"You're going to need some help. But seeing as the bell rings right about now-" he whipped out a pen and took my hand. I flinched at his touch. His skin was pale, but really warm. A welcoming warm, not a clammy, sweaty warm. He wrote down three digits with a flourish. "-this is my bus number," he said. "Meet me out there by my bus after school today. Seems like you need a tutor." He looked me up and down once more before nodding at the bell, then rolled his eyes. "I'm Luke. I'll talk to you later, noob."
I stared after him. It took fifteen minutes for me to register the insult.