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Chapter Three


I stopped in my tracks as my eyes widened in awe at the scene before me. A crowd was gathering at my locker. I could feel irritation building in my gut, what do they want now? I thought, sighing as I approached my locker anyway.

“You don’t have to do this man,” I heard Travis’ voice say as he came into view. He was seemingly confronting two blockheads that I didn’t bother acknowledging their birth names (why learn their names when the ones I’ve assigned to them suit them better?)

I winched as one viciously stabbed Travis’ chest with his finger, I diverted my eyes to the other who seemed to be preoccupied with looking ‘scary’. I looked away, paying attention to the plastic trash bag that was now leaking due to his loss grip. Travis and the blockhead were now in a disturbing verbal fight. Surprising, since they didn’t have much words in their vocabulary to exchange.

“You’re such an asshole!”

“Faggot lover!”

I winced at the very err, Interesting words. Bringing my fist to my mouth I decided enough was enough.

“Ehem...” I cleared my throat, which to my great relief brought everyone’s attention to me. They looked at me for a while a bit dazed before breaking to a fit of murmuring.

“So the faggot finally showed up,” the big block said, brushing past Travis (rather rudely if I do say so myself), clapping as he approached me the crowd parting rather from fear than the respect he probably thought he was given.

“Last I remember cigarettes didn’t possess legs and we’re not in a British boarding school, and I was never your junior,” I said calmly. I watched as his face turned into a puddle of confusion, and I refused to let the smirk that was threatening to form at the side of my lips appear, I’m not stupid I don’t just anger stupid bull (ah, new nickname.)

“Don’t play smart with me!” He groaned, grabbing my shoulder roughly. I winched but I didn’t lose eye contact with the dark-haired bull, couldn’t give him the satisfaction of it.

“I’m not playing ‘smart’ you’re too stupid for that,” I said in frustration, pulling his hand off my shoulder. I didn’t quite notice the fit of laughter going on in the crowd until the bull turned over to silence it with his glare.

“I’ll get you for this,” he scoffed as he passed by me (Why so rude?). I rolled my eyes and proceeded to my locker. I groaned at the small bit of garbage, to me it’s more annoying than having the full thing piled in front of your locker. If you’re doing something, it’s better to do it well.

“I wasn’t part of it!” I heard someone say behind me, raising my brow I turned around to find a panicky Travis. His blond hair was a mess. His hands looked painfully tucked into the pockets of his pale blue denim jeans.

“I know,” I said calmly as I shut my locker. There are a lot of things I note Travis for, and cowardly bullying wasn’t one of them.

“Uh... You do?” he asked, rubbing the back of his neck in apparent surprise. I chuckled a little. I seem to be doing that more often lately mostly because of Chris, and partly because of this guy here.

“Of course,” I said, going through the books I had in my hands. It’s bad enough I’m going to be late, but I don’t have to be inaccurate too.

“So, can I walk you to class?” Travis asked as my brows knitted in confusion.

“I can very well handle myself against a whole load of bull,” I said, a little irritated at his offer.

“What?” he asked, his expression coming out a bit confused. I sighed, turning to face him a bit more directly.

“Those two blockheads from a while ago.”

“Oh,” he said with sudden understanding. I smiled, his confusion was a tad cute, sorta made him more than just a pretty face.

“If you don’t mind I must be leaving,” I said, looking down at my watch; twenty minutes late.

“After school then,” I heard Travis say as I headed of class.


Classes passed away like a breeze. I’m not quite comfortable with all the attention I’m getting, quick glances and obvious stares. It’s even worse now that I’m in the cafeteria.

I sighed, checking my messages on my phone. I smiled finding one from Chris. Opening it I tried to muffle my laughter with the back of my sweater sleeve. I couldn’t help laughing and ended up doing it out loud, earning a few stares from nearby tables. It was a picture of a badly drawn man (Did I say badly? I meant horribly) with a fish hook passing through his guts, and not surprisingly the caption read:

I’m hooked to you.

Well that’s interesting, Chris might be an amazing poet, but he’s still a horrible artist, and he could send the whole renaissance era into a coma.

I was brought out of my thoughts of Leonardo Davinci falling into a coma after receiving fan art from Chris from a very unwelcome ‘hey’.

Looking up I was face to face with one of the schools outcasts. The typical gay kid that got bullied repeatedly, I’ve seen him before getting his homework torn in half by some bully. I watched his hands fidget as it struggled to keep the lunch tray up, his eyes avoiding contact with mine. I didn’t say anything just looked up.

“What you did this morning was for all of us... thanks,” he stammered, suddenly finding the courage to look me in the eye. I blinked once or twice before digesting what he had just implied.

“I didn’t do anything special,” I said, feeling bored.


“Can you leave?” I asked, letting my annoyance slip into my tone. His eyes widened enough for me to notice that they were a red-brown color — maroon.

“I was—I was actually hoping I could sit here,” he said, looking down at the floor. The usual me would have said yes, waited for his face to lift in relief, then crush it by saying no. I’m not in the mood today so I just murmured a quick ‘yes’. I watched his eyes widened in surprise before he took a sit on the closest empty chair to him.

“How’s it been?” I heard Sky ask as she grabbed a seat. I farrowed my brows in confusion. Weird, I didn’t see her coming. Her curly hair was held back in a ponytail, her small oval freckled face being more obvious a feature now. Sky and I have an odd relationship. It all started in chemistry class when I figure out I didn’t have my textbook, Ironic right? I had asked Sky to place hers in the center. She had just wrinkled her nose and said “Get your own fucking textbook.” but scooted the book to the center anyway.

“Horrid, people are actually looking at me, some even invading my private space in the name of making my acquaintance,” I said quite calmly as Sky laughed.

“Like us?” Sky asked, resting her head on her palms. Her eyes moving to the kid whose name was apparently Paul.

“Like you guys,” I said, smiling before looking down at my phone not quite believing I was making acquaintances.


“Alex?” Travis asked as I sighed in annoyance. School hours were over, and we were having the usual tuition period.

“What?” I asked, putting my book down.

“Err I was wondering about that... gay thing,” Travis said, drawing imaginary circles on the table.

“What about it?” I asked, figuring if I humored him he’d concentrate more on the task at hand, which was writing his essay on the French revolution.

“Well err, do you like, kiss and stuff?” he asked as his face turned a deep red. I chuckled closing my book. He wasn’t really asking that, right?

“Well of course,” I said, placing my legs on top of my table, my worn out sneakers dangling off Travis’ pile of books.

“Um, okay,” he said, his hand tightening around his pen, the room falling into that odd silence again. I returned to my phone, texting my aunt that I was probably going to be at Chris’ place after school.

“What do you see in him?” Travis asked, startling me. I looked up at him. Did he really want to know?

“I don’t know I just fancy him — why am I even telling you this? You’re meant to be writing your essay,” I sighed in frustration, as I fumbled around with some textbooks that could help him write faster.

“Just one more question,” Travis said sitting up. I raised a brow before sighing.


“Do you guys have se...”

“Do your homework,” I said before Travis could finish. There was no way I was answering that.

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