Текст книги "One and Done"

Автор книги: S. Briones Lim

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Chapter 2

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

The rumbling of the crowd egged me on. I swung once and reveled in the feeling of Dwight’s cheek against my fist. I could have sworn his skin even molded against the bones of my knuckles, wrapping itself around each crevice. Yup, it was definitely going to leave an imprint on his face. I branded that motherfucking bastard.

“Break it up, break it up!” Our vice principal, Mr. Elliott, rushed forward, toupee flapping in the wind. He reached down and grabbed us each by our biceps. Despite being such a gangly looking fellow, our vice principal was actually pretty strong and easily ripped Dwight and I apart. A bead of sweat rolled down his wrinkled forehead, and his breaths came out staggered, as if the adrenaline was too much for his lanky body to take. “What is going on here?”

“Oh, you know, just bonding.” I took a step back and yanked at my cotton shirt, which clung to my sweaty body. I smirked when I spotted Dwight wiping away a drop of blood that had leaked out of his nose. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t help but grin at his pathetic state.

Mr. Elliott wasn’t as amused. “Tyler—office, now.”

My mouth dropped open. “What about him? That jerk—”

“Does not have a record, and you do. I don’t think I’m going out on a limb by assuming you started this fight, no?”

“Circumstantial evidence and profiling.”

The triumphant look on Dwight’s face made my fist twitch, desperate to punch him once more. Luckily, Mr. Elliott spoke up, distracting me. “Mr. Mansfield, you’re not getting off that easy.”

His eyes widened, showing a level of fear that made my already non-existent respect for the boy plummet even more. “What? Why? You just said this was Jesse’s fault.”

“He may have started it, but you surely partook in it.”

“Well, I’m not going to sit around and allow myself to get punched in the face!”

The thing about Mr. Elliott is that he didn’t take shit from anybody. As he eyed Dwight, a calculating look brushed over his eyes, causing our star receiver to visibly cower. “That may be so, but I’m still giving you detention after school.”

“That’s football practice!” He was practically whining. I loved every second of it.

“You should have thought about that before.” Pursing his lips, he turned to me. “Now you…”

“Yes?” I asked, failing to look innocent.

“Office. Now.”

***

Mr. Elliot’s office was like a second home to me. I leaned into the cushioned seat, which was placed right across from his desk, and sighed. I had sat in that chair so many times before that I was pretty sure the outline of my body was permanently imprinted onto it. Tapping my hand against the cherry wood armrest, I gazed around the office and took in the sight of various trophies, awards and diplomas—things I was sure I’d never get. At least not in this lifetime.

“Jesse, Jesse, Jesse.” Mr. Elliott dropped a giant sized file onto his desk. It was stained with coffee and dog-eared with a number of different colored papers sticking out from inside. The folder had definitely seen better days.

“I take it that’s not a homecoming present for me?” I quipped.

He narrowed his eyes. “I find it funny that you think you’re allowed to attend homecoming this year. You’re lucky you’re still even allowed to go to this school.”

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. “Oh, boo hoo. I was just kidding. I don’t care about that crap. When have I ever gone to a school dance? Trust me, not my cup of tea.”

Mr. Elliott pushed aside my file and clasped his bony fingers together. “Mr. Tyler, let’s talk.”

“Thought we already were,” I murmured, keeping my eyes down.

“It’s been my experience that children—”

“I’m almost eighteen,” I snapped in annoyance.

“Children are those who act with a certain level of immaturity and, I’m sorry to say, that’s you.”

I snorted.

“As I was saying, in my experience children,” he looked at me pointedly, “who usually act out are those who are suffering in their home lives.”

I shifted uncomfortably and shielded my eyes.

Mr. Elliott cleared his throat. “As you know, we have great resources here at school. I know at your age it may seem embarrassing to ask for help, but—”

I cleared my throat and folded my arms tightly around my chest. “I don’t need any help.”

The corners of his mouth turned down slightly. “We have a staff of great counselors who can help you turn that restless energy into something productive. You don’t need to go down this path of destruction.”

Productive as in smashing Dwight’s face in again.

“Listen, Mr. Elliott, I have no problems. I really have no idea what you’re talking about.” It was a blatant lie. We both knew it. Everyone in Bethel Falls High knew it. How else can you explain my clothes reeking of alcohol—not all me, I promise—and anger issues? Sure, some girls loved that whole ‘broken rebel’ thing I had going on, but honestly I would give anything to be normal. Just a regular schmoe—another Dwight…well, maybe not him. He’s a douche.

“I see…” Mr. Elliott’s voice trailed off and his eyes lifted, meeting mine. There was definitely pity in them, which I hated more than anything else. I’d take furious yelling over pity any day. He tapped his fingers against the desk and sighed. “As much as it pains me to say this, I’ll give you one last chance.”

I lifted my eyebrows in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“You screw this up and you’re out,” he clarified.

“Of homecoming?” I was skating on thin ice and I knew it, but nothing was more hilarious to me than the thought that I’d care about some bullshit dance.

His eyes narrowed. “Of this school, Mr. Tyler.”

I licked my lips and tried my hardest to maintain a straight face. As much as I hated school, there was no way I could get kicked out. Where would I go? What would I do? It wasn’t as if Daddy Dearest would take me in with open arms, and I sure as hell didn’t want to spend 24/7 with my mother.

“Okay…so, what do I have to do to stay in?”

“For you not to get into any more trouble!” He threw his hands in the air as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

No guarantees.

“Whatever.”

“That’s not all,” he interjected.

I let my head fall back and silently groaned. “I knew it was too good to be true.”

“I want you to volunteer for a school activity.”

“Wait, what?” I grasped the armrests and leaned forward. “I must have heard you wrong, because it sounded as if you want me to partake in extracurriculars.”

He shook his head in exasperation. “I think the only way you’ll learn to respect this institution is by promising some of your time and effort toward it. Seeing as your grades are surprisingly satisfactory—”

“What, do you really think I’m that dumb?” I snapped in annoyance.

His jaw clenched. “Don’t make me regret giving you this chance, Mr. Tyler.”

I pressed my lips together and looked away. Expulsion suddenly didn’t seem so bad.

He took a deep breath and ground out, “I’m sure you need some other stimulus to make sure you keep your idle hands busy and out of trouble. I think working with the school will be good for you. Teach you some responsibility.”

“There’s really no getting out of this, is there?” I asked hesitantly.

He shook his head. “I suggest you start looking for clubs to sign up for. They’re filling up quickly.”

“Surprisingly,” I murmured. This fucking sucked. Not only would I have to endure school during its regular hours, but I’d actually need to stay afterwards? So fucking lame.

Looking entirely too pleased with himself, Mr. Elliott scribbled some notes into my file and slammed it shut. “Do this right, and I may consider letting you go to homecoming after all.”

“I thought we’d already established that I think school dances are wack.”

“Good luck.” With that, Mr. Elliott diverted his attention to his computer, making it obvious he was done with me.

With a shake of my head, I stood up and walked out the door.

***

“Volunteer? School club?” Stephanie burst out laughing, flashing those ugly braces once again.

I narrowed my eyes, waiting for her to calm down, but after about a full minute of snorting, hysterical cackling, and tearing eyes, I turned to Rocky and sighed. “This is bullshit.”

“Well, you got off easy,” she shot back, surprising me.

“What do you mean?”

“Why start the fight with Dwight to begin with? That was beyond stupid.”

Because he asked you out? We both know the answer to that. Come on, Rocky.

I growled. “It’s because he’s been trying to get under my skin since freshman year. From the swirlies and wet willies of ninth grade to the face punches and name calling of senior year. I can’t take it anymore, Rocky. I just can’t.”

Stephanie finally quieted down, prompting Rocky and I to look over at her in annoyance. Wiping tears from her eyes, she asked, “So what club are you looking into? French? Debate? Ooh, how about water polo? I’m sure those banana hammocks would look really cute on your little willy. Oh, wait, it’s not so little, is it? I’ve heard stories.”

“Shut up, dipshit,” I muttered.

“What about if you join Art Club?” Rocky piped up. Her cheeks looked flushed, and I couldn’t help but wonder if she was getting sick.

“I doubt my knowledge in graffiti and vandalizing counts as art, Rocky. Thanks for the thought, though.” I laughed.

“I’m serious. We’re always looking for models.”

Stephanie jabbed Rocky in the ribs. “Ah, you just want him to pose naked so you can see his willy for yourself.”

Rocky and I both wore identical masks of horror. I glanced over with a sneer. “Didn’t I tell you to shut it?”

To my surprise, Stephanie didn’t have a smart comeback. She merely shrugged. “Just trying to make you feel better.”

“Well, you’re not.” Feeling an overwhelming need to ease the sudden tension, I blurted out, “You know what? Maybe I will take art. Won’t be too bad, considering I have a friend in there.”

Rocky flashed me a weird look. “Well, we have a meeting after school if you want to go with me.”

“I don’t really have a choice.” I sighed.

“Okay, friend. I’ll see you then.”

Stephanie snorted silently with a shake of her head.

***

My knee bounced up and down, causing the wooden table to shake. Rocky’s hand shot out and pressed down on my thigh. “Stop it.”

“I can’t help it,” I hissed. “I move around when I’m restless…and when I want to run away.”

Her eyes twinkled as the left corner of her mouth lifted up in amusement. “Could it be that you’re nervous?”

“Nervous? Nah, I’m never nervous.” I glanced around and wiped my sweaty palms against my jeans.

“Really? Because you’re not doing a very good job of hiding it.” She giggled quietly and looked around the classroom. “I promise there’s nothing here to be worried about. Besides, I’m here with you. You’ll be fine.” She paused. “And I promise you won’t have to strip.”

I blushed and quickly looked away. As I gazed around the classroom, I quickly realized I didn’t recognize about half the students who filled the room. I spotted a group of bougie looking art kids staring back at me as if I were some wild animal that had just been let out of its cage.

“I don’t get people sometimes,” I growled under my breath.

“What was that?” Rocky asked, busying herself by sharpening a stick of charcoal.

“Nothing. Forget about it.” I shook my head and diverted my attention on the cracks of my plastic binder. I ran my hands over the sharp slivers of blue and sighed. Those bougie kids wouldn’t know one thing about having to reuse the same school supplies every single year. They wouldn’t know how it felt to duct tape the cardboard backing or find new screws for the metallic clasps. I was like a savage to them. I couldn’t really fault them for staring.

Just as I was tempted to get up and leave, a petite young woman with bright corn-colored hair walked into the room. Her ivory skin almost glittered under the fluorescent lights. Had it not been for the quirky, cartoonish smile on her face, she would have been pretty hot. She had that sexy librarian thing going on—complete with black rimmed glasses, which sat primly on her freckled ski jump nose.

Rocky glanced at me and narrowed her eyes. “Are you checking her out?”

I shrugged, but didn’t say a word.

“That’s Miss McMillan. She’s the new art instructor,” she explained to me as if I cared.

My eyes widened in surprise. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-three years old, and so not what I pictured an art teacher to look like. “Well, this class just got more interesting.”

Rocky’s mouth dropped open. She glanced over at our teacher and frowned. “Remind me again why I invited you here?”

I smirked. “Is someone jealous?”

Rocky’s cheeks burned brightly. In a clipped tone, she replied, “I just think you should be a little bit more careful about your…your…”

“My what?”

“Never mind. I never did understand your shenanigans.”

Just like that, all humor left me. “That’s not what…oh, forget it.”

Probably sensing us talking about her, Miss McMillan walked toward me and extended a pale, slim hand. “Hello, you’re new here.”

“Guess so.” I shook her hand lightly, fearing that if I squeezed tight I’d break her seemingly frail bones.

She nodded and smiled. “I’m Miss McMillan. And you are?”

“Jesse.”

“Do you draw? Sculpt? Paint?” Her eyes darted over to Rocky. “Or are you just a lovesick boyfriend who can’t stand spending time away from your true love?”

Rocky and I stiffened simultaneously.

“I didn’t realize I was in drama class,” I joked uncomfortably.

Miss McMillan’s wild eyes bounced between the two of us. Smiling sheepishly, she bowed her head in apology. “I guess that was a bit inappropriate.”

“You think?” I grunted.

“So…um, Jesse was it?”

I nodded in annoyance. Just like that, the sexy art school teacher fantasy crumbled at my feet.

“What are you here for?”

“I was told you needed models.” I shrugged my shoulders, feeling even more stupid than I had before. It didn’t help that the same bougie kids started snickering beside us. Once again I felt the familiar twitch in my fist, only this time it was accompanied by a bit of soreness.

Damn that Dwight and his hard face.

Miss McMillan sighed quietly. “Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved. We have a pretty introverted bunch here who don’t take to new kids nicely, and it’s been quite hard to get some new blood in here. Nice going, Rocky.”

Rocky blinked in embarrassment. “Uh, yeah.”

Our teacher grinned and clapped her hands loudly, startling everyone in the room. “Looks like we have a new model joining us!” Pausing to run her gaze over my face, she smiled. “And by the look of that jaw, whew! You ladies are going to have good practice drawing classic Grecian features.”

I don’t blush. I promise I don’t. At least not usually.

“So…Jesse, was it?” Miss McMillan mused as she walked over to the corner of the classroom and grabbed a wooden barstool, subsequently dragging it to the middle of the classroom. “Why don’t you take a seat in the center of the room and we’ll begin.”

“Sit there?” I practically screeched.

She nodded with a smile.

“Right in the middle of the classroom?” I glanced over at Rocky, who shot me a teasing grin.

“Ugh, you can’t be serious,” a nasally male voice called from beside me. I turned and spotted a pale face covered in painful looking zits.

“Patrick, do you have anything to say?” Our teacher turned at her waist and crossed her arms over her chest. The act exaggerated her cleavage, causing every male in the room to ogle in wonder. Though the sight didn’t hold the same weight for me as Rocky’s cute bra did, I couldn’t help but look.

Rocky’s elbow dug into my side. “Stop staring. That’s rude.”

“I’m a teenage male. It’s biology,” I hissed.

Patrick scowled and replied, “I don’t know about you ladies, but I’d rather not draw this guy. Can’t I stick with a still-life or something? A bunch of eggs and vases seem much more interesting to me than a pop star wannabe.”

Miss McMillan eyebrows furrowed. “I’m pretty sure Jesse is much more interesting than three hardboiled eggs.”

“I beg to differ,” he mumbled.

Okay, the next moment may not have been my proudest, but hey I couldn’t help myself. After dealing with Dwight and a bunch of pretentious rich kids, I was on the verge of snapping.

Sneering at the pizza-faced motherfucker, I grabbed at my crotch and shook it around. “I may not have eggs, but at least I have these nuts.”

“Jesse!” Rocky gasped beside me.

Miss McMillan rolled her eyes. “Are you sure we’re not in drama?”

Looking as if he had swallowed rotten fish, Patrick argued, “Why can’t someone like Rocky do the modeling instead of this freak? I don’t want to spend an hour staring at a dude. I’d rather appreciate the female form.”

Okay, Mr. In-Desperate-Need-Of-Zit-Medication just landed on my shit list for more reasons than one. He wasn’t going to spend an hour staring at any female form, let alone hers. Snapping my head around, I glared at him, picturing what it would be like to torture him a bit. Maybe Stephanie was onto something with that weird fanfiction of hers.

Miss McMillan quickly stepped in between us both, blocking my line of sight. “Da Vinci, Raphael, Picasso—do you think any of them minded staring at a ‘dude’ for more than an hour at a time?”

“Michelangelo did have to detail David’s dick,” another student pointed out.

“What do you say, Patrick? Care to emulate the masters?” Throwing my binder onto the floor, I proceeded to rip off my jacket, eliciting shocked gasps from around the room. “It’s really no problem. I have no qualms being naked.”

Rocky reached over and pinched me in my side. “Stop it.”

“What?” I asked innocently, spotting the familiar burn of her face. I had meant to get under Patrick’s skin, but seeing how worked up Rocky became felt just as good. I grinned triumphantly.

Miss McMillan straightened her glasses and glanced around. Realizing that she was about to lose full control of the class, she pulled out a nearby chair and readily hopped on. Placing two fingers in her mouth, she let out an ear-piercing whistle. We froze on the spot. “Quiet, everybody! Now listen up. As much as I don’t appreciate Patrick’s sexist comments, he does bring up a good point. Maybe we can use a female model for variety. Rocky, you okay with that?”

Rocky’s cheeks flushed as her head whipped around. “No. No. No. No.”

I elbowed her in the ribs. “We get it.”

“Shut up,” she whispered. Her face curled up into a little pout, and all at once my resolve came crashing down. She loved this class and here I was ruining it for her, just like I always destroyed everything I touched.

Shutting my eyes, I shook my head, suddenly feeling numb. “You know what? Maybe this was a bad idea.”

Rocky threw me a look of warning. “Jesse. I know what you’re thinking, and no. You need this club to stay in school.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do, then? I can’t draw or paint and apparently I can’t model either.” I threw a snide look at Patrick, who immediately looked away.

That’s right, pussy.

I was about to stand up to grab my things when I heard a raspy voice croon, “I want you to model for me, Jesse.”

I looked up in surprise and spotted Sarah Jacobs eyeing me like a hawk. I had no idea she was into art, let alone a member of the club. It wasn’t as if I kept tabs on her or anything, though it was hard not to know about her. It was no secret around school that the girl…uh…got around.

Rocky stiffened and shifted uncomfortably. “Are you sure you can’t draw?”

“Uh, I wasn’t really expecting a private modeling session,” I admitted, trying to remain collected.

Miss McMillan frowned. “I wasn’t suggesting anything of the sort. Can’t get in trouble with the school board now, can we?”

I smirked and snuck a peek at Rocky, who looked as if she was silently fuming. This was certainly not what I expected when I agreed to join the club, but like Mr. Elliott had warned me, I really had no choice. Eyeing the paint stained barstool, I pushed myself up from my desk and begrudgingly stalked my way to the center of the room. “If Pizza Face over here doesn’t want to draw me, it doesn’t mean nobody else does, right?”

“Right,” Sarah cooed seductively.

Patrick groaned, causing another surge of irritation to run rampant through my veins. I gritted my teeth and sat down, making sure I was facing his direction. Purposely, I unbuttoned the top of my Henley and smiled seductively. “Give it your best, Pizza Boy.”

“Look over here, Jess,” Sarah called out to me.

My head snapped around automatically at the sound of my name. My eyes widened when I realized Sarah had stripped off whatever weird army jacket she was wearing, revealing a very thin camisole. Keeping her eyes on mine, she ran her tongue around her lips and shot me a wink.

Seriously?

Rocky cleared her throat loudly. “Jesse, can you face me? I want to get you at another angle.”

I couldn’t help but smile at Rocky’s tone. It was shy, angry, and somewhat territorial. Without hesitation, I turned around and faced my friend.

“Hey! Now I can’t see him!” Sarah protested.

I drowned her out and remained focused on Rocky’s big eyes. Though her drawing board blocked the rest of her face, I would bet any amount of money that she was sporting the usual blush that I had grown to love so much. Whenever I looked at her, it was as if it were just us two in the room—perhaps the world. Soon the other students became nothing but white noise in the background.