Clever's Will

Chapter 2

"Do you want us to wait with you?" Virgil says to Milly as we stand outside the school's main office.

"I think it'd be a good idea," Milly says. "The more faces he can recognize the better."

"So," Virgil says. "It's a new guy, then."

"Hoping for a girl?" I tease.

"A guy can dream."

"His name is Willis Greeley," Milly says. "He's in our year."

"Shit," I say. "New kid in the middle of a semester and it's his senior year."

"That . . ." Virgil says. "That's something."

"Here, of all places too," I say. "He'll never find a place . . ."

Mindless conversation passes the time until Willis finally makes his entrance. He's not some grand muscly piece of ass that moved here from mysterious hot guy town. In fact, like any of us, he's just a kid; hands shrugged in his pockets, hood pulled up, and eyes locked on the ground. Even though he tries to blend, he can't escape others noticing him. This place is too small; he's definitely going to get attention.

"Willis Greeley?" Milly says.

Virg and I shoot each other wry glances as we notice Milly's cheeks go bright red as his dark eyes meet hers. He pulls down his hood and Milly exhales. God, this would be fun. The guy's attractive, but he didn't exactly stop your heart and make you melt. Then again, Mil is a sucker for tall guys with dark eyes. Eh, he has good hair too; a nice brown colour, pretty messy, but it falls in the right places. Virg had tried to achieve that look . . . it didn't work very well.

"It's Will," he says. "And you're with the welcoming committee?"

"Yes!" she says, far too quickly. "I-I'm Milly."

Virg snorts, and I elbow him in the gut. I couldn't really blame him, though. Milly actually stuttered. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't struggling to maintain my composure. That's when Will glances at us.

"I'm Clever," I say, giving Milly a much-needed chance to breathe. "And this is Virgil."

Will raises an eyebrow at me, and it takes me a moment to figure out the reason behind his reaction. Right, I'm clever, I have to be careful about the way I introduce myself.

"Oh," I say. "My name is Clever. I'm not just . . . bragging."

"Your actual name is Clever?" Will says, a smile creeping on the corners of his lips, his eyes narrowing. "That's very . . . unique . . ."

"Yep," I say. "Funny story that, but we've got a lot to show you, right Mil?"

"Um, yes," Milly says. "I guess we'll find your locker . . ."

Time before class had never been this entertaining. Milly, the poor girl, is basically tripping over herself. Virg and I try to keep our snickering to a minimum, but it's not easy. This is Milly's one major flaw; she can't handle herself around guys . . . well, not the ones she finds hot.

Eventually Milly walks him to his first class, and right after he agrees to have lunch with us Milly blurts out a quick goodbye and hurries down the hall. For a long moment Will stares at Virg and I as we do everything in our power to not burst out laughing; I can only imagine how constipated we look.

"I . . . guess I'll see you guys at lunch then," Will finally says.

"Yeah," I say. "See you then."

He nods, and walks into class. The poor guy; he probably doesn't realize that Milly is only but the first of many . . . and definitely one of the least extreme. He'd have a stupid amount of girls to pick from. It'll be . . . a sight to see.

*

Luckily, classes don't drag by today. I get through by mindlessly taking notes and occasionally staring out the window. When lunch finally comes, it takes conscious effort to remember to meet Will at his locker before heading to the usual spot. When I arrive, I see he's not alone . . . and no, Milly and Virgil are nowhere to be found.

In fact, I see a pair of girls from sergeant peppy's band of populars talking his ear off. The poor guy seems to be suffering.

It's typical, I know, to hate that popular group in high school. In all honestly, I give no shits about how many selfies they take, I don't care if they say "like" after every second word, I don't even care if they talk shit about me, because that's all their words will ever be. However, what does bother me is when they start acting obnoxious. I don't like it when they walk around like they own the place. I don't like it when they can't separate fiction from reality, and begin emulating what they see on TV or the internet, like mindless zombies hunting for a personality. It's pathetic, really; so naturally, I have to intervene.

It doesn't take much effort; my mere presence is enough for the girls to look at me uncomfortably and walk away.

"Thanks," Will says. "They were nice, but . . . a little pushy. They don't exactly take no for an answer."

"I guess they wanted you to dine with them?"

"I don't think I would have been able to eat," Will says. "All they want to do is . . . interrogate me."

"Interrogate you?" I say.

"Yeah," he says. "They were asking really personal questions."

"Shoe size?"

He glances at me, his eyebrows rising. "How did you know?"

"It's a small community," I say. "And they're a loud bunch. Mostly everyone is aware of their obsession with penises."

"Ah," he says. "But that's a myth. Shoe size has nothing to do with . . ."

"You know that," I say. "I know that, but it's fun when they don't know that. Think of the potential hilarity."

"I'm sure it'd be a sight to see," he says. "I just hope I won't be at the butt end of the joke again."

"Honestly, Will," I say. "Everyone in this school is bored of seeing the same old shit all the time. You're new, so you're going to be at the butt end of everything for the next little while."

"Well," he says. "So much for laying low."

I shrug. "Things hardly ever go according to plan."

"I'm starting to learn that the hard way."

"It won't be so bad," I say. "They'll calm down . . . eventually."

"Clever," Will says, his voice softening. "This first day is . . . nothing like I thought it'd be. Milly has been . . . nice, walking me to my classes and all, but I'd rather you do it. You're the only one who doesn't make me nervous. I just have the one class left then I'm out of your way."

I feel a knot forming in my stomach. The poor guy, and here me and Virg were laughing at him and Milly . . . we didn't even think about how he'd feel about it. Damn, I feel like such an ass. I'm no better than those obnoxious girls.

"Sure," I say. "I'll talk to her. It's no trouble at all . . . what class?"

"Art," he says. "Right after lunch."

"Then it's really no trouble," I say, picking up my voice. "Because I have art too."

"That's convenient," he says.

"Very," I say. "Art's fun. It'll be a good break from . . . well, everything."

"I'm glad, then," he says with a tiny smile. "Thank you, Clever, really."

"You're welcome," I say, flashing a smile to match his. "Really."