Dirt Poor

THREE - Concrete Floors

           "Alright, I guess the first thing we should do is trade numbers with one another."

           I nearly didn't register Vance speaking to the two of us. Once Mr. Norton gave everyone their group members, we were free to get started. I had pulled out my textbook and went to begin writing down information for our ancient civilization when the chair next to me was pulled out.

           I had stared at Vance with an incredulous nature. I wasn't expecting him to even put himself in my presence let alone in front of an entire group of people. Once he did the entire room went silent in the same shock that I was experiencing as they couldn't believe their eyes either.

           Did he not know the norm? Was I supposed to tell him? Or would he retaliate and humiliate me further in front of everyone? Was this whole thing some kind of setup? I wouldn't put it past Syre to pull some kind of elaborate stunt like this, but I didn't know about Vance.

           But as I continued to sit there and gape at Vance it became more and more clear that what he was doing wasn't phasing him in the slightest. In fact, he barked at Syre to come and join us, to which he did much to his dismay.

           Syre did anything and everything he could think of to prolong his arrival at our-my table. And once he finally did, Vance just continued on like everything was normal. There is no way we had been attending the same school since the 7th grade and he hasn't heard about me and how it was unspoken that I was ignored and alienated. It just wasn't possible.

            I was so lost in my own thoughts that I failed to realize that Vance had stopped and looked back at me.

           "What," he said with a possible hint of annoyance.

           I guess I had been staring. I quickly closed my agape mouth and dropped my eyes with a little dismissive shake of my head.

          Syre scoffed, "I already have yours, Vance, and you have mine, so all we need is yours, trailer."

          I looked up at the nickname to find Vance looking inquisitively at Syre. Right when Vance opened his mouth to say something to Syre, I intervened.

         "I don't have one," I said quietly, choosing to rather lie to them than let them see my prehistoric phone. They already had the latest cell phones in their hands ready to plug in my number.

        "Bullshit," was Syre's response. He aggressively snatched up my backpack and haphazardly dumped my belongings onto the table. The very little I actually owned scattered about with thuds of textbooks before the clunk of my flip phone.

        "See?" Syre held up the old phone between the three of us, "It's right here, trailer."

        Syre flipped it open and punched in his number before pressing the call button. I had no idea how many minutes I had left on the phone. It was mere seconds before Syre's phone lit up displaying my phone number. He snapped my phone shut before dropping it onto the table. I watched as he saved my phone number under the name 'Trailer'.

        "You mind?" Vance asked holding up my phone in question, effectively pulling my attention from Syre.

         I sucked in a small breath before shaking my head. It was weird to have someone ask me permission for something. It wasn't something that was done...at all actually. It was so rare that it even caught Syre off guard and threw a judgmental look towards Vance for even doing so.

        The dynamic between Vance and Syre was a curious one. On the one hand, they sort of ran in the same circles since they both came from astronomically wealthy families, they were in the same sports and had the same luxuries, but on the other hand, they didn't always seem entirely too friendly with one another. Vance was more dismissive of Syre and there seemed to be a level of competition between the two of them. Where Syre was inadequate, Vance was there to step in and make up for the discrepancy.