FicWad

"Hey, those are nice legs. When do they open?"

The guy resisted a smile and the kids around him snickered again. He'd been cracking the same cheesy pickup lines ever since he'd plopped down on my seat and nearly crushed my hand, which had been resting there so 'carelessly'.

I stared mildly out the window and hoped he could tell from the metallic banging of Screeching Weasel seeping through my earphones he had no hope of being heard, even with a bullhorn and a microphone. So far, all he had been was a creep with remarkable persistence, no more than a fly buzzing around. That quickly changed.

I felt someone's hot breath grazing my ear and suddenly my earbud had been yanked out, threatening to take my ear with it. I didn't need to turn my head to know who it was. Suddenly, I felt a hand on my leg groping around my thigh.

That was it.

"Is there a mirror in your pants? Because I could so see myself in-"

SMACK.

I turned my head, confused, and looked around.

My fist was inches from his face. He was cross-eyed staring at it, seconds from breaking his nose.

I grit my teeth and whirled in my seat, preparing to chew whoever it was out.

Another guy.

This one had shaggy, tangled hair in a wild shade of red; he leaned over the seat with a steady-fast hold on my wrist. And he was glaring in such a skilled way at the douche bag sitting across from me, I knew this wasn't uncommon.

"Gary, pizz off." He said almost lazily, locking steely eyes with the kid. The guy, who still had his hand frozen on my leg, slowly brought it back. The others around pretended to be mildly interested in the scene, but the anticipation in the air was a dead giveaway.

Gary's face went still for a moment; then he assumed what he obviously hoped was a nonchalant gaze, “You don’t have to be such a little bitch,” and flipped the bird to the other one behind me hastily. All the same, he moved his sorry ass out of my space, clutching his bookbag, and scooted off to the middle section of the bus to terrorize more people.

I didn't say a word to Gary-Eater, nor did I look at him again. I shook my hand free irritably from his, staring at the knee of my black jeans, and was about to slam my bag down on the vacancy to ward off newcomers when Gary-Eater slid himself smoothly across the cheap vinyl.

"Hey," He said, extending his hand again, this time in friendly exchange.

"Sorry. He picks on all the new kids. Just need to--"--he paused a moment, as if searching for the right words--"--to keep them in line. I'm Andy. Call me what you like; I get a lot of that."

"I didn't need help." I pulled my hoodie up and over my eyes and turned to the window with my bag propped on my knees.

"Well, did you want to break his nose?"

I realized when I could still hear him I was missing an earbud. I raised my head and searched the front of my hoodie, using this opportunity to answer him.

"Yes."

He laughed a hearty chuckle that sounded a bit like a chicken. "Looking for this?" He twirled the earbud close to his ear and grinned. He had several piercings, including one shining in the middle of his chin.

“You like Screeching Weasel?” His jaw dropped a little.

I looked at him with my face set and rolled my eyes.

“No, I just like to listen to loud music that I hate,” I paused. “All the time. “

He gave me a wary smirk but let me have the earbud back, and he got up and moved.

A few minutes later, I felt the bus slow and screech abruptly to a stop. I still a little pissed off now that Gary was leering at me as he got off the bus before me, flaring me up a little. But what pissed me off more was that at the time, I had really wanted nothing more than to break his nose. To make the kids around me drop their jaws and realize that even though I looked like fresh meat and I had a cast that, in my mind, made me weaker looking, I might not be one to fuck with. And the fact that a certain crazy red haired individual thought he needed to help me.

Speak of the devil, he was right in front of me when I stepped off, jostled by other kids anxious to meet their friends and holdup from other buses unloading their occupants.

He walked barley three steps and then turned around right in the thong of busflow and stepped haltingly in front of me, arms crossed over a Black Flag shirt.

"Wanna come hang out with me and my guys? I mean, it being your virgin experience to Glenbrook?”

I knew the routine. New school, new school district, people that I live in the same city with but completely different worlds. Appearances deceive, teenagers are ticking time bombs with undeveloped consciences, and high school is a big shark tank. I’m not about to risk getting blood drawn. One drop and they smell the weakness, the things that make me different. I’m not like them. These kids, called my peers, with their parents and friends and money and college scholarships after-school sports, friends and shopping trips and their biggest disappointment in life is failing a test. I mean, its Chicago, so they’re not rich. I know that. But even low-middle income is still more than enough to make them look at me with the likes of pity and contempt. In the hierarchy, they consider themselves to at least be doing better than the foster care girl. I’m an orphan, who has no family, who is a one person pack. The world they live in is fake; it’s a game of popularity contests, politics, and sex. It’s like a habitat to observe the corruption of youth. They pass the time with this experiment called high school and I am trapped behind the one-way observation glass of the real world, where the amount of time I spend studying and marks on paper mean that I have less of a chance of working retail or entry-level jobs for the rest of my life, where a boyfriend is an easier translation to ending up with a screaming, helpless sentence to giving up any remaining chance I have in the world. They can’t see me, but I can see them, and I am a part of the experiment even if I’m not on the same side of the glass. I’ve got to keep my back guarded, not get involved with the rest of the test subjects.

I pretended to sigh in disappointment and shifted my weight on my leg. “I’ve got to get to class. I really like learning, y’aknow?”

I pushed past him impatiently.

_______________________

“Hey, you’re that chick that almost broke Gary Steven’s nose, aren’t you?”

The girl was grinning at me. I had to do a double take on her; she had long black hair, an nose ring, notched eyebrows, and a shirt that said Never Be Silent. I instantly liked her.

My whole day has seemed to be a series so far of people who would get right up in my face so I couldn’t help but respond to them. That, or I had been zoning out continuously through out the day and was just now making this self-awareness.

We were in my 4th period of the day, right before lunch. The rest of the day had gone by pretty uneventful, although as lunch drew closer I was starting to get a bit worried about if I would have to eat alone. No one likes to eat alone. Off guard, I cocked an eyebrow and respond. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“My brother stopped you from breaking his nose. He said you just whipped around without any warning and was ready to knock him out,” She was sitting in the seat in front of me, and was leaning forward excitedly. “It was all he was talking about this morning, how this chick was crazy.”

“Your brother’s Andy?” So Andy had been more impressed than he let on. “Uh yeah. So, why are you so excited I almost broke his nose?”

“I used to date that asshole over the summer, and he cheated on me. I already kicked his ass when it happened, but I like seeing him get shut down.” She grinned again. “I almost wish he had let you do it, but then again Andy probably didn’t want to see you get charged with assault on your first day. I’m Janelle. Call me Jan. I like your hoodie,”

“Thanks,” I said, musing over the fact that she said the exact thing Andy had said, she had to be his sister. So, you’re new aren’t you? You want to sit with us at lunch?”

______________________________
At lunch I walked with Jan from the PAC, which is basically the performing arts center. It’s a medium sized building in which all the performing arts of the school are crammed; theatre, tech theatre, band and dance.

I learned a lot about Jan in the five minute walk to the cafeteria; she was a fast talker. She had worked for several non-profit animal cruelty prevention organizations over the past few summers, she worked at a music venue downtown to support her local music scene, and she and her brother were seniors. I walked with her to the cafeteria, already starting to like her a lot. She was certainly different, and not the least bit shy about it. When we got outside the cafeteria she stopped me short. “You go on ahead, I bring my own lunch.” When I looked questioningly at her, she explained. “I’m vegan.”

“That’s cool. I couldn’t be, I like bacon too much.” I grinned. Suddenly Andy sprang out of nowhere and attacked Jan. “Mee too!” he said, growling and pretending to bite her. She swatted him away, calling him a meat-junkie, and Andy turned to me. “Hey its you. Knocked anyone else out yet?”

“No, hanging up the gloves for now. I might break my other arm.”

He laughed at this and he put out his hand again. “No hard feelings?”

I hesitated before shaking it in a friendly manner, giving him a smile as a peacemaker. “I was just kind of pissed you wouldn’t let me kick his ass. He’s a prick,” I smirked.

Andy shrugged. “He’s just like that, y’anno? He’s not worth it. He’ll leave you alone. He probably knows you could kick his ass,”

Andy and I went inside and stood in the line. Andy had a walkman in his pocket and was thrashing his head. Something I learned very quickly about Andy was that he didn’t say much unless he had to. That something turned out to be Jan stayed outside to talk to a group of friends at picnic tables outside the doors. Andy and I went inside the lunchroom to get food. When we came outside, Jan was waiting for us with another girl.

“Videl, this is Allie,” she introduced her. Allie had short brown hair, bangs, and round cheeks. Allie waved hi shyly. Jan led the way as we walked around the lunch room to the far side of campus to a wooden platform in the middle of the lawn to eat. Waiting there was a collection of other people, friends of Andy and Jan, and we went around the circle and introduced everyone. All of them had at least one piercing besides ears, a Mohawk and a few green or pink hair colors. There was one guy, Bob, who kind of rattled a little as he moved around. They were all interesting to say the least. Once we had settled down with our food, a turkey sandwich and iced tea for me and a hamburger for Andy, we all started to laugh and joke and get more comfortable.

“So have you met anyone cool here?” Jan asked me.

I shook my head. “You guys are pretty cool, I haven’t met much of anyone else.” She was taking out her own salad and tofu stir-fry. Andy wrinkled his nose at this, which Jan rolled her eyes at. “How do you know its gross if you never tried it, ya carnivore?” she said exasperatedly.

“Hey Jan, why do vegans give such good head?” Jan rolled her eyes again. We were going to get along just fine.

“Cause they’re used to eating nuts! Oww!” This had earned Andy a smack to the head.

We all laughed.
________________________
After lunch, Jan had walked me to my next class, which was English. After English I hurried off to World History. By my last class period, I figured my day would be passing fairly uneventfully which was a good thing in my book.

My last period was First Semester Guitar, which I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why I would have been taking it if I was apparently pretty good. I hadn’t thought too much of it since the accident. It made me a little nervous getting into this strange part of my brain. It was scary how easily it had happened to me; that I didn’t know parts of my own self, but my own nature made me determined to find out.

This last thought was what gave me the nerve to walk in the door of the classroom and settled myself in the corner of the room, as far from the rest of the class as possible. Jan had helped me find it, telling me to watch out for the asshole of a teacher, which I was grateful for. Jan seemed to know every question and thought I had today; it might have been just because I was new and it was obvious, or because we were getting on as well as I thought.

Thankfully I was one of the first in, and I chose a desk to isolate myself in the corner of the room. As the rest of the students started to file in, I looked out the window, keeping my gaze there. The teacher was among the last to shuffle in, like he thought he was too cool to be there. I might have been wrong though.

“Students, welcome to First Semester Guitar, where you will learn the basics. It is a required course for all intermediate music students, so after this semester you will be able to place in the advanced class. I am your teacher Mr. Marcus. Now, I trust everyone has a guitar or can get access to one. We weren’t supplied with any extra ones this semester.”

I rolled my eyes at this. I had expected that.

Mr. Marcus raised his hands again to speak, and the door burst open and in rushed a boy.

The teacher shot his eyebrows up as the boy moved quickly past him, head down.

"If you could join us on time from now on, that'd be wonderful. Sorry we can't abide by your schedule.” He thought he was being funny.

“Sorry,” he mumbled to the teacher, keeping his head down and moving quickly to take a seat in the other corner of the room that was unoccupied. He, like the rest of the students, had a guitar case slew over his shoulder. The teacher gestured at him, and looked to the rest of the class. “Well, it seems everyone else had partnered up, Miss Marquee? You have experience in basics, is that right?”

“There’s not much I can do with this anyway,” I said, lifting my arm and sighing.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to wait until its healed. How long is that going to take?” The teacher asked next.

“They said 4-6 weeks.”

Mr. Marcus groaned. “That’s almost the entire semester. So do you have experience? At all?”

“Uh, yes. No. Not really.”

“No, not really?” He squinted at me. “Well, which is it?”

“No. Not really.” I repeated.

Mr. Marcus sucked in a breath.”Well, I guess you’ll have to work with a partner, at least for the time being. Do you have your own guitar?” He blinked obnoxiously at me a few times.

I hesitated. “Uh, well, it was stolen.”

The other students in the room snickered as it seemed like I was throwing every excuse in the book at him. Mr. Marcus blew out through his mouth and crossed his arms. He looked at me as if I was lying through my teeth.

“Is there anything that hasn’t gone totally wrong to stop you from completing Guitar Basics, Miss Cloud of Black Over My Head?” He said blinking rapidly; he obviously thought I was trying to make him look stupid. I grit my teeth.

Before he could say anything else, someone cut him off.

“I can work with her,” it was the guy in the corner of the room; he had blurted it out, causing me to turn slowly in my seat and stare stupidly at him for a moment.

“Good then,” gruffed the teacher, ready to be done with the pair of us. “Alright, pair up and lets start working on the first page in the book,” He clapped his hands began passing around the instructional workbook.

The boy was still staring at me nervously from across the room, and after a second he popped up out of his seat and walked over to my desk, standing in front of the one opposite mine.

“Can I sit here,” he gestured at the seat.

I glanced up, pretending not to be surprised. “Free country.”

He was wearing an argyle sweater, a pair of shorts and black knee socks, and a black trucker hat that covered his eyes. The part that you could see was covered with glasses. And he had these ridiculous sideburns covering the sides of his face. He quickly sat and set his guitar case next to him. I noticed he was still awkwardly wearing his backpack, but I didn’t say anything about it.

I felt my wall slowly halt in the mental building of it that had begun as soon as I’d walked in the door. I mean, the guy was wearing an argyle sweater on the first day of school. How intimidated could he make me feel?

The guy grinned a little, and looked over his shoulder at the teacher. ”Its funny that you stood up to him, he tends to be kind of an--"

"Mr. Stumph, and how did you sneak past me with that hat?" The teacher had been walking slowly down the aisle and quickly snatched his hat off his head, causing his face to go into panic mode for a second as he reached for it.

Mr. Marcus thrust the hat back into his hands, which made him scowl as the teacher walked away.

"An ass, "he muttered, still scowling.

“Well Mr. Hat,” I began, “How are we going to do this? I’m not gonna be much help. You’re new to the class, I am a cripple that can’t remember how to play; I probably won’t pass this class cause this—“ I held up my arm “—doesn’t come off til semester is almost over, and I don’t care too much about passing anyways, now what?”

He laughed awkwardly, his little scowling session long forgotten, and pushed his glasses up his nose at this. “We can fail together, Miss Cripple.”

I almost laughed but I caught myself midgrin and forced my face to be stone again. “That’s Miss Cloud Over My Head Cripple to you,”

"Touche. Then its Argyle Sweater Hat Man to you then.”

I allowed myself a small grin back at him.

“Miss Marquee and Mr. Stumph, if you’re quite finished.” Mr. Marcus had come back around to our aisle to sneer at us. “Would you mind joining the rest of the class?”

I narrowed my eyes and set my stare past the hat guy. “I don’t know, can you lay off us?”

The class, which had erupted in quiet snickers, dissolved into quietness. I bit my lip, my mouth having moved before my brain. It always happens that way, and waited for the cold sting of reprimanding that was sure to come.

Mr. Marcus was regarding me cooly, clucking his tongue against his teeth. “Uh-huh. Detention it is, Miss Marquee.”

I started to roll my eyes at this but was stopped short by a painful tinge in the side of my head. Forcing my eyes to stay open, I slapped a hand to my forehead and struggled not to moan in pain.

Mr. Marcus was frowning at this, and looked at the guy for answers. “What’s going on?” The guy was staring at me as well, slightly taken aback, but when I met his eyes he seemed to understand.

“I have a headache.” I managed out, sucking on my teeth to contain the throbbing sensation in my head.

“Yeah,” The guy said quickly, now only looking concerned. “She has chronic migranes. This could be really bad. Do you see dots?”

“Yes,” I answered in a mumble, still holding my head, even though I actually was lying now.

I stood up. “I need to go to the nurse,” I said in a rush, feeling queasy.” The guy stood up with me. “She really does need to go. She has to take her medication. I’ll take her, she doesn’t know where it is.” He said in a decided tone.

Mr. Marcus was busy looking stupefied, but shook his head slowly at me. “Fine. Just go. Take her, and come back.”

The guy grabbed my bookbag, slung it over his shoulder, and took my arm and put it over his other shoulder. He guided me out of the classroom, and once we were in the hall, he closed the door and let out a sigh of relief. “I wasn’t sure that was gonna work, but you really needed an escape out of there didn’t you?”

“Actually, my head is killing me. Can you show me where the nurse is?”

The guy looked at me with widened eyes. “Oh shit, I thought you were faking it. You know, to get out of detention.”

I gave a small laugh and walked alongside him, matching our steps together. “I’m not that smart. My head actually hurts. But you know, you’re not a bad actor. You really got me out of there. Oh and, you can let go of me now.” I added.

The kid quickly slipped his arm out from around me and flushed a little. He was still holding my bag, “I insist.” He said.

“Thanks, I guess. So, acting?”

He grinned. “Uh—yeah. Thanks, I’m also in theatre here. I acted for a few of the student movies last year, and a couple of plays.”

I hummed, and thought a minute. “What period do you have it?”

“I have it fourth. I’m a junior. You?”

“I have fourth period theatre too, but I'm a senior. How come I didn’t see you?” I asked, slowing down a little.

“Oh uh, I was there. I’m—kind of quiet. We’re here.”

We had arrived outside a brown door that read NURSE’S OFFICE.

“Thanks. What’s your name?”

“Patrick.” He said, smiling with his lips closed. He grabbed the door handle with the free hand that wasn’t around my waist and helped me inside.

The nurse inside had another kid laying on the cot, a couple sitting in chairs.

When she saw me, she told me to take a seat and she’d get to me.

I looked at Patrick. “I’ll be alright. Thanks for helping me out there.”

He gave me another lip-smile and tilted the brim of his hat to me and scooted out the door. me and scooted