Wilde Fire

Chapter 25: August 2009

On the first day of eighth grade, Owen and I sat in between Kelby and Ben in the truck, crossing our fingers as we drove to school. My eyes were squeezed tight shut, but I snuck a peek at Owen. He happened to be peeking at me at the same time, and we both laughed.

"You know, I think too much luck is considered unlucky," Kelby joked, shaking her head at us. She pulled out her digital camera and snapped a selfie of her and Ben, who barely glanced at it while he continued driving down the road. "Besides, is it really that big of a deal?"

"Yes." Owen and I say in tandem. It was definitely a big deal to us. The rumor at Owen's baseball practice the week before was that this year, the eighth graders would get to choose their lockers instead of being placed in alphabetical order. This meant that instead of being clear down the hallway from each other, Owen and I would be able to choose lockers closer together.

We were officially best friends, enough so that the friends I had prior to Owen moving to town were sick of hearing about it. We spent the entire summer together, either tagging along with Ben and Kelby or going on our own adventures. When we realized how far apart our last names were in the alphabet and what that meant for the current locker situation, we were determined to find a way around it. As long as Chris Humphrey was right, we were in luck.

But the double-crossed fingers would surely help.

I opened my eyes as Ben pulled into the school parking lot. He parked in the back on the grass like usual. Most days, Kelby would roll her eyes at him and complain about how far she had to walk, before grabbing his hand and heading inside. Sometimes though, as Owen and I walked, I would turn around and see Ben pull her back to him, away from us. He would push her against the truck, his hands on her hips, and kiss her in a way that made me feel like I was intruding just by being in the same air space. Maybe that was why he parked so far away, so he could kiss her like no one was watching every morning before school.

That day, Kelby jumped out of the truck first and ran ahead of us to catch up with a group of friends. Ben got out last, slinging his empty backpack over his shoulder and slamming the truck door closed. He was probably mad that he wasn't getting a romantic kiss on his first day of senior year. Knowing Ben, he would never admit it. As we walked toward the school, I could hear him behind me; his slow, heavy steps in the grass and the constant flick of his lighter as he ignited the flame repeatedly.

Though Owen and I were in a hurry to get inside, I found myself stopping and waiting for Ben to catch up. His long stride caught up with me quickly, and he wrapped an arm around my shoulders as we continued making our way to the front doors of the school. His large hand cupped my shoulder, squeezing gently. Just before we went inside, Ben bent down and whispered in my ear, "I love you, Sidney Bean. Have a good first day."

I turned around to say it back, but he was already gone. He disappeared into the crowd, his presence dissipating before my eyes. "I love you too, Benny," I whispered to myself.

Once inside, Owen made a beeline for the main hallway, where there were a few tables set up with important beginning-of-the-year information. The counselor was passing out schedules, while the principal stood to the side and greeted everyone as they entered. We approached the table. As soon as Owen snatched his schedule from the woman's hands and began to read, he frowned. "Alphabetical order," he groaned, and sulked toward the junior high hallway.

I felt my heart sink. That meant there would be at least twenty people standing between me and my best friend in the hallways at all times. Even worse than that, I would be directly beside Marcus Vance.

I grabbed my schedule and followed in Owen's direction. I could see him at the far end of the hallway, spinning the combination lock. I was almost last in the order, so at least I didn't have far to walk.

I was organizing my notebooks on the shelf when there was the sudden pound of a fist on the outside of my locker door, sending my magnets and photos falling to the floor.

"'Sup, Ginger." Marcus said just before appearing in my peripheral vision. He leaned against his locker, right next to mine as I had feared, his figure looming above me.

I did my best to ignore him as I bent down and picked up my photos. I stepped backward to grab one of the magnets when I heard my locker slam shut behind me, the paper with my schedule and locker combination still inside.

Marcus laughed, opening his own locker and shaking his head at me; the stupid, ugly, redhead girl that for whatever reason, he couldn't stand.

I jumped when, out of nowhere, a hand shot out above Marcus's head and slammed the door closed, nearly catching his fingers in the process. "Hey!" He yelled, his voice cracking at the end.

I stifled a laugh as Owen slapped the notebook out of Marcus's hand and stepped toward me. "Leave. Her. Alone," he hissed under his breath, his eyes narrowed on Marcus, who normally stood six inches taller than him and was now cowering in the corner. "Unless you want another repeat of the winter dance."

The winter dance last year was probably the first moment when Owen saw Marcus's torment, which had been going on for years at this point, and stood up for me. I was licking the icing off a cupcake when Marcus appeared, grabbed my hand, and shoved it into my face. There was blue icing dripping down the front of my pale yellow dress as I ran to the bathroom and cried.

I found out later that, in the midst of slow dancing with an eighth grade girl, Owen ran to my rescue. He followed Marcus into the boys' bathroom and proceeded to knee him in the groin. Marcus ended up throwing up down the front of his dress shirt and the chaperone had to call his mom to pick him up. It was talked about for weeks, and Owen was my hero.

But really, a knee to the nuts was the least of Marcus's worries. He was just lucky that we never told Ben about the bullying. If that were the case, Marcus would already be dead.

Instead of telling the overprotective older brother, Owen made it his duty to save me at all costs. He was not aggressive. In fact, I always thought of him as a teddy bear. But when it came to protecting me, I really thought he would do anything. Luckily, Marcus and his family moved to a new town shortly after eighth grade began, and I didn't have to deal with him any longer. I was no longer the target of insistent bullying, at least for the remainder of that year.

But in the back of mind, I knew that it would never stop Owen from being there, just in case. After all, that's what friends were for. Being there for one another no matter what the circumstances, until of course, we were forced to go our separate ways.