One Big Cliché

Chapter 5

Nicole

          "Do you think you can watch The Dweeb Saturday?" Sarah asks as we set our trays down. It takes me a second to remember why Tyler's in my seat—I usually sit between Sarah and Eddie, but now I'm between her and John. Not that I mind, but seriously, total dysfunction in my brain. We sit, and Sarah takes a bite of one of her mini corn dogs before saying, "I have a doctor's appointment."

          "Sure," I contend, chewing on my own bite.

          I stare at Tyler, who's just staring down at his tray, not touching anything, arms lying on either side of it. Actually, looking around the table, everybody is staring at him except Sarah, who's thinking about something; probably what to say to him. Claire is as blatant about it as I am, John and Max are more discreet, peering up only occasionally, and Eddie and Andrew keep peeping as they talk.

          Before that jerk showed up, there was a blanketed awkwardness around the table. Tyler didn't really speak, although Sarah made her attempts at making him feel welcome. Nobody else really knew what to say, though. Honestly, I think most of us were thinking how, given that he's a quiet white guy that gets bullied, he kind of fits the track record for school shooters. It was even mentioned in the group chat last night, much to Sarah's chagrin. This was before Donavin showed up, of course. If I recall the name correctly.

          Now, we still don't have anything to say, but for a different reason. It isn't so much as awkward as uncomfortable. Claire bitched Donavin out a good one behind his back, but that didn't really help. All it did was make Eddie gloat that he could have taken him, which he couldn't have. It made Andrew pipe up that he'd help, but even with the both of them, I doubt they could do much damage.

          The whole scene replays in my mind as I poke at my tray. Donavin's face red and twisted in a sneer. Their friend's arms wrapped around his chest, a particular set to his eyebrows that I can't quite name. Concern? Anger? Dustin stepped in between us before I could catch any glint to his eyes. 

          But why did Dustin step between us? I saw what Tyler did with his chair, the panic in his pale face, but Dustin? His shoulders had tensed in a way that almost seemed... protective? That doesn't make sense, though. Unless he was protecting his chance at getting decent grades, maybe. Or he just didn't want his friend doing something stupid and getting caught. Even with some fathomable explanation, it doesn't negate the fact that, for just a small moment, my heart fluttered at the sight of his back straightening up in front of me.

          I quickly take a bite and push the memory away.

          Sarah finally comes up with the words she wants to say and, blushing like crazy, turns to Tyler and asks, "So what do you plan on doing after high school?"

          I wince. She did not just ask that. Oh, Sarah...

          He slowly lifts his eyes from his tray to her, staring without any expression. "I don't know. Haven't thought about it."

          Not only is he creepy, but he also hasn't thought about his future, even though it's the second trimester of his senior year. She could do so much better than him. I look at her ponytail, because she's facing away from me, but I can guess that she probably looks flustered, like she doesn't know what to say next.

          I speak up, not bothering to hide the attitude in my tone when I say, "Wow, that sounds aspirational."

          His eyes snap to mine, and—whoa, is that a hint of a smile on his face? Does he actually have the capability of expression? Eddie and Andrew stop talking, too interested in what this new specimen at our table has to say. I think we're all trying to get a feel from him, really. I wonder if he's uncomfortable being the center of attention; from his former seating choices, he doesn't get much.