School Spirits | I Don't Do Friends

4- Badmouthing The Dead

Caroline never used to mind school. She didn't have many friends, but she also never really dealt with the drama of it all. She never really went to events, that meant more time alone, which she tended to prefer. It got lonely sometimes.

However, now school was a nightmare. Everyone seemed louder, people were meaner, the work got harder. It was hell.

The worst thing about school was some of the other kids. A loud minority who love making it harder for everyone else.

Like the basketball team. She will admit, most of the hate she harbored for Wally came from him being an athlete. Not everyone who plays sports is an asshole. Then there's James Stevenson.

Captain of the basketball team, super competitive, major dick.
He thought the world revolved around him, but he was just the next star player. Someone that coaches and local sports fans with gush about going pro. Only for him to end up in an office somewhere.

His voice, like nails on a chalkboard, immediately caught Caroline's attention.

"Yeah I mean, it's a shame but there's no way it would've taken him anywhere you know?"

Caroline immediately understood what he was talking about.

James had consistently tried to one up Wally, at everything. How much he could bench, how many girls he could get. Everything.

James was so full of himself, he thought he was winning a game Wally didn't even know he was playing.

Caroline understood that it wasn't her fight. That Wally wouldn't want her to cause a scene just because James decided to talk shit.
But she cared about right and wrong more than anything else, and the penalty for badmouthing the dead was heavy.

"Wally was good and everything, but there's no way he'd get a scholarship to the school I'm going to next year."

She marched up to him and the other guy he was talking to, Philip Heart. Phil didn't want to be there but got roped into the conversation after 5th period. It was obvious he was looking for an escape, but James wouldn't stop talking about himself.

"James!" She called.

He turned around, unsuspecting.

Caroline pushed him into the wall. He nearly fell to the ground, the last thing James was expecting was for some chick to shove him. So it was pretty easy.

Wally stood there in shock, he tried not to let James' talk bother him. James didn't know him. He will admit he got a sense of satisfaction seeing that jerk get pushed.

"If I so much as hear his name out of your mouth again, we're going to have problems." Caroline pointed in his face, red with anger.

"Are you threatening me?" James stood up, furious.

"What are you scared? Scared of lil' old me? Get a fucking life, asshole!" She sounded. People in the hallways stopped to watch.

"I can't imagine what was going through his head, hanging out with a bitch like you. He was a fucking idiot."

That was Caroline's last straw. They had problems now.

James didn't expect her to swing, nobody did. It was a reach to get him square in the jaw but she managed.
His face twisted with pain as he fell back into the wall again.

A teacher broke it up a few seconds later, just long enough for Caroline to feel the satisfactory sting of her knuckles.
She was immediately taken to the principal.

"Why'd you hit him?" The principal was leaned back in his office chair, he seemed bored.

To be honest, the principal expected someone to shut James' up sooner or later. Though he didn't expect this loner to come marching into his office.

"He was talking shit about Wally Clark! If it wasn't me it was going to be someone else."

"Language, Ms. Wispe." He reminded.

"Right sorry, sir." She choked on the last word.

He let her off with a call home and a few detentions.

Her father picked her up.
"I got a call about you hitting Stevenson?" He grumbled through the open window of his truck.

"Before you get mad-" Caroline started, but was interrupted by her father's hysterical laughter.

"Ha! We're you get him?" He chuckled as Caroline climbed into the truck.

She was surprised, but not too surprised.
When her father would drink he'd share stories of fights, usually him winning them.

"The jaw." She giggled.

"Did he cry?"

"A little."

"Good, that's the way you're supposed to do it." He started the truck and pulled away from the pickup lane.