Don't Panic - B. Hargrove

FIVE

The next day, Billy had to come to terms with having been right. He sucked at Chemistry. The big red F on the top of his pop quiz circled in judging doodles was evidence of that. Well, at least his expectations had been low from the very beginning. His mind wasn't working in that way.
Math, English, Spanish, he could deal with that. But everything that included more complex formulas and required careful calculations were just not working for him. And chemistry was basically all that in the most annoying way.

He had no idea how he even made it that far in High school. His understanding of physics was as equally bad, biology even worse, and his complete graduation had been hanging by a threat for at least the past four years. His whole academic career solely depended on his basketball skills, the only thing he was really, undoubtedly good at. That was the exact reason why he had to make team captain. He needed the credits for a scholarship, perhaps leading him to more than a community college path.

Billy had never admitted it to anyone, but he wanted more from life than his father had ever achieved. Living comfortably, without being dragged into the military service or a job he hated wholeheartedly, was the goal. Yet, he knew that it was highly unlikely actually to happen. Maybe that was why he had given up on his grades all those years ago. Or it was the fact that no one had ever helped him out getting the hang of the curriculum he hadn't gotten in class. He wasn't exceptionally bright and had never claimed to be, but he wasn't dumb either. Just gifted in different areas. And that was utterly fine with him. Getting his grades up to at least average wouldn't be so bad, though. Until then, the F would do.

He lifted his gaze, eyeing the boy at the other side of the table. David Byers wasn't smiling, nor did he show any sign of emotion. He briefly glanced at his A and put it aside as if it didn't matter. He just scratched the tip of his nose and returned to his notes. It was a warm day, but David was clad in a thick, knitted sweater anyway that hung off his frame like a tent full of tiny holes that let the T-shirt underneath shine through. The different shades of brown made him look washed out and muted, the blue of his eyes the only color standing out from the scheme.

Billy couldn't imagine why someone would choose to dress like that, but on the other hand, he couldn't imagine a more popular style on the boy either. The mush of muddiness suited him strangely as if it was made for him.
Billy adverted his gaze, changing his sitting position loudly, which made the other boy look up at him, gaze almost offended by the noise.

It flickered over Billy, who was scratching his chin lazily and wandered down to the paper in his hands, where it settled on the F shining through.

David hadn't expected the boy to do good on the test, as he had noticed how little he had written down. But he had hoped for him to score at least a few points. He had never seen a zero score in his whole life, and never in a million years would he ever receive one himself. It was just impossible. But he pitied the boy who had just moved, the urge of helping to settle itself into his mind as it did so often. When he could teach Steve, who was an academic trainwreck in his own right, how to write, he could surely do something for that other boy too.

He was good at teaching, straightforward, and surprisingly patient with his students. Since he was helping Steve out, the older boy had gotten himself to a solid average in every subject, with an occasional B spicing up the success.
David was incredibly proud of that achievement, and maybe he had just a soft spot for the complex cases, but he would really enjoy another one. He tilted his head as he looked at Billy, how he stared down at the test, most likely pissed off by its entire existence.

"I could help you with that, " David blurred out, and the boy's gaze glued itself to his face in slight suspicion. The intensity of it was too much for the petite boy to endure, so he averted his gaze to the side. Billy noted that with a frown.

"Helping me with what?" he asked, suspicion swinging with every word.

"I could tutor you. I'm good at every subject." David answered, showing his test as proof.
"Why would you do that? You're desperate for a job?" Billy raised his dark eyebrow further.

"No, I don't want money. I just like to help." Favid shrugged indifferently. Billy huffed.

"Yeah, right. Good Samaritan. You're gay or something? "

"It was just an offer," David concluded that he had wasted his time and turned his attention back to the notes he was making on Steve's essay.

"I don't n, need your help, "Billy huffed again, crumbling up the pop quiz in both of his hands rather aggressively and throwing it across the room, hitting the trashcan with ease.

" Nice shot." David instinctively commented, being used to the basketball team's demand for the constant praising of their skills. Billy eyed him again, but this time, the other boy didn't dare to meet his gaze at all, uncomfortable about how hot it felt on his body. But surprisingly, Billy wasn't as hostile.

"You're weird, Byers. Very weird." he simply said before minding his own business. David had been called weird many times before, and how it had rolled off the other boy's tongue had been one of the least insulting times. He couldn't help but be puzzled by that. He had suspected Billy to be more like Tommy, who called him weird as, a slur that was as equally hateful as all the other ones.

Billy had just noted it like, it was a fact, and he didn't care about it or him at all. David's standards weren't high, and to him, that made the older boy a lot more sympathetic, and he felt they could coexist without much trouble. Perhaps Billy's indifference would even transfer onto the other boys. It was a silly little hope, but it was enough that he briefly smiled at the other boy as he left for the break.

Billy had noticed the slight expression of kindness but didn't pay it any mind. He had other things to do. As he leaned against his car, blowing cigarette smoke into the air while watching the other students chat in their groups, his gaze fell on David again, who was sitting on the hood of Steve Harrington's car writing on a college block while Steve and his girlfriend were making out next to him. It was such a weird picture; he couldn't look away.

The boy was so unfazed by his friends' behavior; it was like he had zoomed out into a completely different dimension. Dangling his feet, he seemed more comfortable than he had ever seen him, and it was almost cute, in a childish way, of course, how he even smiled to himself-weird boy.
But Billy had to cut him slag for being so unapologetically himself.

"You wanna fuck up the fairy?" Tommy asked as he approached, having noticed his new friend's stare.

Billy peeled his gaze off David and glanced at Tommy's cruel smirk.
He was nothing more than an annoying little shit, and with every day, Billy learned to dislike his presence more.

" Why bother?" Billy finally responded and took another drag of his fag. Byers wasn't worth the trouble.

"Because his face screams for it." Tommy shrugged, spitting onto the asphalt of the parking lot. Billy's gaze flickered back to David, brows furrowed. That boy just wasn't bothering him at all. Why was Tommy so fixated on him?

"Just let him be. He's boring as hell." the older boy decided.

"Yeah, right." Tommy puffed his chest, trying to impress the other boy. "Why bother. He's just a nerd."

Billy lazily flicked the bud of his cigarette away.

"Tell me about that keg king again. That's Harrington, right?" he asked. Tommy nodded, looking at the mentioned boy.

"He's not what he used to be." he snarled.

"Looks to me like Hawkins could use a new king," Billy announced, pleased by the idea of claiming that title for himself.
"I'll show him how it's done at the Halloween Bash."