I almost skived off the next class, but since the teacher was one of the few teachers I had that was nosy enough to suspect that there was something going on, she let me slide with quite a bit. I figured I could go ahead and show up and just catch an hour of sleep before lunch. Finding my English class takes some doing.

I’d woken up hours after the beating, cleaned my side the best I could with the strongest liquor I could find in the house, and then smoked myself numb as I wandered around town the rest of the night, which resulted in the stupor I was in and made it pretty difficult to negotiate the halls.

I manage, though, and Mrs. Erickson, the remedial English teacher stares at me as I walk into class twenty minutes late, tossing the note meant for the nurse on her desk and settling myself into a seat in the back without a word. The class begins to mutter as she picks up the note and looks at it, then, more closely, at me. I lay my head on my arms and stare at nothing, and she clears her throat loudly, gathering the class’s attention, and resumes the lesson. Bless her.

I’m almost asleep when a low “hssstt!” jerks me into alertness. When it’s repeated a moment later, I look up to see the pixie from first period leaning over the back of her seat, staring at me with wide eyes. She mouths, “You okay?”

I give her an abrupt nod and lower my head again, hoping against hope that this time she’ll leave me alone. My skull throbs, and my stomach is churning; my face aches, and my side is on fire.

Less than a minute later, I feel something being pressed into my hand, which is hanging off the edge of my desk. As I flinch away, I feel slender fingers brush against mine as they instinctively spasm closed. I jerk my head up in time to see her spin around quickly.

I look down and see, clutched in my hand, a cleverly folded piece of paper with my name scrawled in flowing, girly script across it. I slowly, and with a few false starts, get it unfolded and read the message inside, scrawled in the same loopy writing: “I still want to hear about this fight you were in last night! Sounds exciting! Meet me in the cafeteria for lunch, okay?” The paper is bordered with differently-colored flowers and…kittens?

I look up and stare in confusion at the brown hair cascading down the chair in front of me. Why would she want to talk to me? Does she really expect me to sit down and spill my guts to some girl I don’t even know? I re-read the note twice, and come to the genius conclusion that I’ll just avoid the cafeteria for a week or so. If I avoid her for a while, she’ll just give up. It’s not like I have any money to buy lunch, anyway… Crumpling the paper, I lay my head on my arms again, letting the note slip from my fingers and drift in and out as Mrs. Erickson tells us about the book we’ll be staring the year with.

A little while later, I’m nudged by an elbow on my forearm and I raise my head, looking around blearily. The goth boy that sat next to me nods toward the front of the room. He’s standing, staring down at his desk and is shoving his notebook and a copy of The Great Gatsby into his backpack. The rest of the class is gone, and Mrs. Erickson is smiling at me from beside her desk. In her hands are a copy of the book and some papers I can only assume are the syllabus and homework. I swipe my hand across my face and follow the goth kid toward the door. Mrs. Erickson holds out the book and papers as I approach.

“Are you alright?” she asks softly, keeping hold of the book as I lay my hand on it. Her eyes seek mine. “If you’re as sick as you look, Duncan-" she lays a slight emphasis on the word 'sick', and I feel a flash of resentment at the knowing pity in her tone- "Why don’t you go on home? I can have the office call your father; you can get the rest of your assignments tomorrow…”

She trails off when I don’t meet her gaze, keeping my own fixedly on the book in her hands. She releases it after a few seconds, and I slowly lower my arm to my side.

“Thanks, Mrs. Ericks'n. ’m fine now.” I flick my gaze to hers for a split second and flash a tentative smile before hurrying out the door. I can feel her eyes following me and force myself to keep calm until I've rounded the corner and am out of sight.

It’s lunch, so I head outside, winding my way through the throng of students, nearly all of which are heading for the cafeteria. Once in the courtyard, I head for a spot in the back corner and collapse under the tree nestled against the chain link fence that surrounds the school. Pulling my knees to my chest, I put wrap my arms around my legs and lay my aching forehead on my knees. Tugging the hood of my sweatshirt over my eyes, I close them and thank the school system for the solid forty minutes to myself.

“THERE you are! How’d you get over here so fast!? I didn’t even see you in line! Ahh, there we go.”

I open my eyes and watch in amazement as the new girl plops down cross-legged in front of me, balancing a black plastic lunch tray on her lap. She glances at the ground around me: “Hey, Duncan, where’s your lunch?”

I stare at her for a moment, then blurt out, “Why’re ya' even talkin’ t’ me?” It hangs in the air a moment, and then she laughs.

“Well, if you don’t have anything, you can share mine. I’ll give you my veggies, and, uh…” She lifts a glop of some bark-colored gelatinous mush in her spoon and watches as it drips back onto the tray, “I think it’s pudding?” She grins at me, and my initial confusion and fear is rapidly replaced my growing irritation with this girl. All I wanted was a few minutes of sleep!

“No, I’m serious,” I say, sitting up straighter, “Why th’ shit are ya’ talkin’ t’me?”

The smiled fades slightly from the girl’s face and her eyebrows come together slightly. “Well, I…I guess to get to know you a bit. We already have two classes together, so we’re gonna see each other every day…” She takes a bite of a carrot stick. “Plus, I don’t have any friends yet, so I guess to be friends, too.” She finishes with another bright smile.

I snort and lean forward slightly, instantly regretting it as fire flashes through my torso. “Didja’ happen t’ see any'a my friends while ya were nosin’ around fer my lunch?” I sneer, curling my lip. The girl shakes her head slowly, the smile now completely gone from her face.

“ ‘S ‘cause I ain’t got none, new kid. Go make yer little friends somewhere else. I ain’t got time fer you.” With this, I lean back against the tree, glaring at her and folding my arms across my chest. I watch her quickly gather her things and leave, and I close my eyes. I’ve still got another good half-hour to sleep…

“You stupid asshole!” A shrill voice cuts through the blackness, and, as my eyes spring open, a thin hand with multiple rings makes solid contact with my cheek. My head snaps to the left and my hand rises to deflect more blows as I growl, “What th’ fu-“

A pointed shoe connects with my right shin, turning my protest into a yelp of pain.

“What th’ SHIT!?” I glare up through watering eyes at three figures standing in front of me. The one on the right, the five-foot four Barbie doll, takes a step closer and crosses her arms across her chest, glaring down at me. She’s accompanied by two hulking jocks dressed in matching varsity soccer jackets. “Th' hell d’ya want, Letti?” I snarl.

Letti uncrosses her arms to gesture wildly, yelling, “The new girl is in the bathroom crying because of your sorry ass!” She pulls back her hand for another slap, and I spring to my feet, my right hand curling into a fist as I narrow my eyes.

“Don’t.” My voice nearly cracks from my fury, and I struggle to keep it steady. “Eva’ fuckin’ hit me again, Letti. Why the fuck would I give a SHIT what th' new girl is doing?”

Letti’s face flashes fear and she falls back a half step. She regains herself quickly, though, and shoves me backward. “Because it’s your fucking fault, you shit-eating burn-out! All she wanted was to be friends with you, god knows why, and you just go and pull some CLASSIC Duncan bullshit like this!”

“Listen here, ya’ stupid little skank,” I begin, stepping closer. A strong hand on my chest brings me to a halt, and I look over to see Letti’s boyfriend Chad, now surrounded by half the varsity soccer team, staring at me calmly.

“Watch it, skeeze.” Chad tells me, a mockingly calm expression on his face. My anger doubles, but with Chad and all his buddies, I knew I didn't have a chance. Closing my eyes, I take a breath and force myself to calm down, reminding myself that I'm in no shape to handle even one of them right now.

“Letti, th’ hell d’ya' wan' me t' do?” I sigh and open my eyes, letting my gaze cross the yard, taking in the rest kids, “Outta everybody at this fuckin’ school,” I spread my arms to emphasize my point and let a sneer creep into my voice, “D’ya' really think that I would make a good 'friend' fer yer new girl?” Letti glares at me.

“Of course not,” she sneers, throwing me a contemptuous look, “But you crushed her, you dick. You have to make it right.” She emphasizes her point by jabbing a finger into my chest, next to where Chad’s hand still rests. It takes more control than I would have thought to not forget Chad’s presence and throw a punch. Chad, as if reading my mind, steps closer to Letti, and I narrow my eyes at the both of them before replying.

"How th' fuck am I supposed to make it 'right', Letti? Ya' wan' me t' go an' beg her t' be friends 'r some shit?"

"Yes."

I gape at her, my mouth actually dropping open as my brain sluggishly worked through the idea.

"Yer fuckin' kiddin' me."

"Do I look like I'm kidding, slime ball? I'm sick of you running around this place like you can do whatever the hell you want. It's time somebody stepped up and made you take responsibility for your shit."

I glance questioningly at Chad, like he'll be able to explain Letti's thought process. He just glares at me, though, and I move my gaze back to Letti.

"I ain't gonna fuckin' apologize t' some bitch that can' handle a little yellin'."

"You will, if you know what's good for you," Chad tells me, frowning slightly as he shifts his weight, "And you'll show Letti some respect if you don't want to get even more fucked up."

“Tell ya what, Letti. If y' c’n swear on yer unborn demon-spawn that you’ll never speak to me again, then I will go an' see what I can do fer yer precious little new girl.”

Letti glares at me for a second before pushing Chad’s arm down. “Fine.”

“Fine.” I growl the word and start for the doors. Letti calls out after me, “She’s in the third floor girls’!” to which I throw over my shoulder, “That’s talkin’ t' me. We had a deal, bitch.”