The Tales of Flesh and Blood

Tria, The Fixer-Upper

I waited a couple minutes after Jaxon and his little crew disappeared completely, then headed further up the hallway, finding Felix pressed up against the corner. He stared at me with wonder and astonishment.

"H-how did you-"

"Drop it," I interrupted, trying to hide the unease building up in my chest. It felt too easy tricking Jaxon and his hooligans like that. "If I were you, I would be finding some way to get out of the school unnoticed before the bell rings. I got him out of your hair for now, but it won't last long."

"Th-thank-you."

I held out a hand.

"Now the notes?"

His face brightened up like a beacon. He was still grinning ear-to-ear when he unzipped his backpack and handed me a blue folder. Opening it, I flipped through the first five pieces of lined-paper to notice that they were covered front-to-back in small, organized structures.

Jeesh, his handwriting was better than mine. I took the papers and folded them in a square, shrugging off my own bag to put them in the smallest pocket.

"Thanks. Now get outta here."

The kid was jumping in pure joy. Before I knew it, he tried to give me a hug. I held out a hand to stop him, retreating back in surprise. Hurt crossed his face. How old was he supposed to be, exactly?

"I don't do hugs," I said, eyeing the toilet paper still clinging to him. "And I didn't exactly help you out of the goodness of my heart. Now, for the sake of the two of us, get out of here before someone sees."

Felix grinned sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That would probably be wise, huh?"

I frowned, though I did not bother replying. Heat rose to his cheeks and he nodded hurriedly.

"Right. Thank-you, again," he said, nearly breathless in the moment. Then, before the poor champ could embarrass himself further, he rushed down the hallway and turned in the direction of the office just as the final bell rang.

Smiling happily to myself, I began my walk from the building as other students filed out of the classrooms, some racing to the big double doors. Kids around me shoved and nudged one another. Chatter buzzed while angry shouts echoed from nearby classrooms; you know, the same old. A couple boys were throwing punches and a small crowd watched, however most people ignored them. Paper airplanes and hoots and hollers flew above my head.

I felt my bag bounce gently on my back and stuffed my hands in my pockets, appearing casual and bored of the commotion when really my heart was pounding in my chest. I now had an odd sixty-five dollars on me, something I did not wish to lose. While it might not have been a lot to most, I've seen kids get placed in the hospital for less.

"Yo, Tria! Where you goin'? We still have some business to take care of," a sudden, obnoxious voice shouted. Holy hell! I turned, spotting a rather stocky boy leaning against some of the lockers. Like every other suck-up in the school, he, too, surrounded himself with other kids who thought it cool to be like him. I raised my eyes to the ceiling, being sure that he could see, and then gave him a wide, exaggerated smile.

"I keep telling you. Find someone else to fuck," I said in greeting, but still made my way over to him, anyway. 

He threw back his head and laughed, as if we were sharing some big joke. The kids around him gave him nervous looks, lowering their gazes when I shouldered through the crowd to stand in front of him. As tall as I may be for a girl, he still towered over me by a good couple of heads. Sometimes I wondered if he got held back a few grades in middle school - before I moved here. He's too big for a high school student, what with his wide shoulders and expanded chest. His arms were big enough to have difficulty reaching into a simple locker, and I was willing to put good money on the fact that he could crush my face with just one hand. Either he had a pretty good deal on steroids, or he was a true descendant of the giants.

"Ah, Tria. You're lucky you're cute," he beamed down at me, his swampy-green eyes light with humor. I scowled, crossing my arms over my chest. Any other kid, and I would have socked him. But I've seen him fight. I could probably get a good punch or two in before he delivered me one that would land my happy ass in the hospital.

"What do you want?"

Landon tilted his head, rolling back his shoulders.

"Did you forget? It's Friday."

I blinked. "And?"

A small frown appeared on his thin lips.

"Fren wants to know your answer," he said slowly.

"Fren? Who the hell is Fren?" What kind of name is 'Fren'? I didn't like where this was going.

"Dog's Brawl, Sunday night? Small dude, blue eyes, thin shoulders? He was wearing a gold chain around his neck. You couldn't miss him."

I shook my head. "One, you could probably rip out a tree sapling with one hand. Everyone is small to you. Two, in case you didn't notice Monday morning, I was drunker than I've ever been in my life Sunday night - which is saying something, actually. Who is Fren?"

What did I do this time? I remembered seeing bits of Landon Sunday with his friends, but not the man he's describing.

The big boy shook his head, reaching into his leather jacket's pocket to retrieve a small, square envelope. With a rather grim smile, he handed it to me. Not looking away from his uneasy gaze, I took it, sticking it in the back pocket of my pants.

"He wants a reply by tonight."

I gave him a slow nod.

"It's nothing illegal, right? I didn't do anything stupid?" Again. My luck of not getting myself arrested would only last so long. Stupid. I should have listened to Hadi when my toes started going numb.

He laughed, though it was not as full as it was the last time. For a split second, a flicker of fear clouded his eyes. He looked around.

"I hope you're joking, Tria. I really do," his voice was lowered, now quite shaking, but close. I took a step back in surprise. What could possibly frighten a big guy like him?

"I'll get whatever this is taken care of," I promised, trying to give him the best reassuring smile I could conjure in a moment like this. He nodded. I backed up, then headed out of the old school, the hairs on the back of my neck rising on end. I did not need to look back to know he was watching me.