Anything But Ordinary

6: You Don't Love Me Like Obama Does

Josh Fransechi's POV

"So, the cafeteria is where you go for all meals. Make sure you sit with the right group of people. You can hang out with me and the people I sit with if you want. If you make other friends, you can hang with them, but this is Barrington 101," Oli started, and I nodded, letting him know I was listening.

"Over there," he pointed to a table of people in white, navy blue, all shades of pink, and striped red, "are the preps. Stay away. They're super fake, and will make your life a living hell. Next, are the 'computer nerds,'" he gestured to a table full of laptops. What should I have been expecting? "They're okay. All age groups sit with them -- they're kind of cold at first, but they get used to you. Over here," this time, he gestured at a table of mainly dark colors, worn by kids who looked a couple years younger than me. "Those are the straightedges. I hang with them sometimes."

"Oli, what's straightedge?" I asked, like a confused child, almost embarrassed.

"No drugs, no alcohol, no premarital sex. Easy in theory, hard in execution."

"Okay, thanks. Continue?"

"Yea, they're pretty cool. Is she over there?" Oli sounded like he was talking to himself, but I ignored it. "See her? Over there? The short one sitting by the girl with the blue mohawk and the other girl with the red hair." I nodded. "That's Sam. She knows everything that goes on in this school, and she'll tell anyone, for a price."

"Wow. I thought they were straightedge?"

"Ew, not sex. Money, or food, and stuff. Most people say she donates most of her funds to charity, but I think she doesn't donate as much as they think. But yeah, she's straightedge, so she found another way to have fun and make money. She's actually really nice. I'll introduce you sometime."

"I'm getting the wrong vibes, here. Who else is there around?" I asked.

"Over there, you have us music nerds," he gestured to the table we were at last night. "They're my favourites out of everyone here, but I fucked up and now they don't like me."

"How about those people in all black that're really tall and scary looking?"

"That's Ronnie Radke and his group of assholes. Stay away at all costs." He quieted down. "Don't do what I did."

"Okay, Oli, can we sit now? I'm starving." I started my walk to the table from last night, setting my tray down only to realize Oli didn't follow me, and was now surrounded by 'Ronnie Radke and his group of assholes.' I did what any normal best friend would do. I intervened.

Apparently, facing off with guys that were really tall and all muscle didn't really intimidate me. I was used to being the big kid, as an older brother, and former . . . bully. Here, however, I was small. I couldn't fight them, and I couldn't run, because I didn't want Oli to get hurt.

"Who's your new whore, Oliver?" one of them, who wasn't the tallest, but certainly the dickiest -- I could tell already.

"He's not a whore!" Oli shouted, earning him a punch in the face from the dick man. I lunged to grab one of the ones that had him by his arms, only to get caught myself.

"Seriously, who is he. I'd love to know," dick man said, but Oli stayed quiet, getting him a knee in the stomach.

"I'm Josh! I just moved here from England! Stop hurting him!" I shouted at the group of assholes that surrounded us.

"Stop hitting him? No. Who do you think you are? Ehh, whatever, I'm feeling . . . generous, today. I'll let you off easily this time, and this time only. Don't get in my way. Go half on the new kid. Go . . . triple on curtain man."