The Meaning Games

1. Pretty Girls, Ugly Boys, and English AP Latin Teachers

1.

Pretty Girls, Ugly Boys, and English AP Latin Teachers

It was incredibly easy to get an underdog to fall into your trap. 

Avarie Castelo wound a long, thin finger around the back of Jacob Portman's neck; a crumpled sticky note was surreptitiously tucked away from passer-by eyes. Jacob flinched but didn't move from under her grip. You couldn't move away from Avarie, even if, like Jacob, you wanted to. It was a great accolade to be approached in the school's corridors by the most popular girl there, even if she was going to mock you, or torture you. "Jacob," she mocked sweetly. 

She could feel him squirming beneath her grip. His heart sped up. He hadn't caught her condescending tone. Could she be, right now, asking him to a party she was hosting tonight? When she said, "I'm having a party tonight and, well," Jacob thought this was it. But then his hopes were diminished and his heart plummeted into his stomach as she finished with, "could you do my English homework tonight? It's due tomorrow and I'm just so busy tonight. You know how it is!" But Jacob didn't, and never would know what it was like because he never got invited to parties. 

Avarie watched the excitement drain from his eyes. "Sure."

"Really? Oh that's so sweet!"

"Sure," he repeated, not knowing what else to say. He tried not to look at Avarie, but she was staring at him. Her hazel coloured eyes, which had brown flickers within the irises, darted around his face. Then to the note Jacob couldn't see. Then back to his face. Jacob liked Avarie, even though he should hate her after what she did to him, even though she was mean to everyone. She didn't have any distinctive features, not really but she really respected who she was, and pulled off any look. Her shoulder length rich, mahogany hair had layers of black twisted into it and her teeth were perfectly white and wonderfully straight. Her legs were long and she had a great posture. The people of Chevy Chase Village adored her. 

"Thanks, Jacob," she said, pressing her hand into his back, between his shoulder blades. "That's really nice of you." Then she let him go as if he was dirt from under her shoe, wriggling her nose as she passed him and darted off down the corridor. He didn't know everyone was laughing at him until a young, small, shy girl walked up to him and tore the note from his back. Jacob turned around, alarmed, but then his gazed softened with his eyes fell on Havana. Neither of them realised that Avarie was still watching.

Havana held up the note, scowling at the word LOSER that was in a bold, black sharpie. "Be more careful," she snapped, sounding harsher that she'd meant to. It wasn't his fault, she knew, but they had a connection and Havana didn't need him humiliating himself, or her for that matter. 

"Sorry." Jacob muttered. That was the nicest thing about Jacob Portman. He apologised even when he didn't need to. He never wanted to harm of offend anyone. He wondered how the note had gotten there, but wouldn't dare blame Avarie for it. That would be social suicide. Havana didn't tell him how it had gotten there either, even though she knew. 

A low rumble of murmuring erupted within the corridor. Havana snapped her head up, to see Avarie walked back up. She stepped away from Jacob, eyeing him suspiciously. Avarie rushed up to the boy and placed her hand on his arm. "Jacob! You poor thing! I'll find out who did this."
"It's not a problem," he said quietly. "I'm used to it." The echoing of people sniggering at him didn't bother him anymore. Not like it should. 

"Are you sure?" She asked, not giving him a moment to answer. "Well, don't forget that homework." She turned to Havana, dropping Jacob to grab her friend's arm. Her acrylic nails dug gently into Havana's pale skin. When they were out of reach, Havana let go.