The Hierarchy

Mason, Mason White

I sulked over to my locker, tears streaming down my face.  Unlike everyone else's highly decorated lockers, mine was plain and grey; no magnets, no boy band posters, and no pictures, just books.  At the moment the hallway was empty, everyone was still in class.  I started to empty my books into my backpack.  English, Chemistry, Spanish, Math.  At this point my backpack was full to brim, and the fact that it was already falling apart didn't help.

Slamming my locker, I walked right into a brick wall of a person.

He was tall and husky with muscular arms.  A black and white  short sleeved t-shirt stretched across his chest and arms. I reached up to his chin, and I though I was a tall person.

"I'm so sorry, are you okay?" he gripped my arm and reached for the backpack falling off my shoulders.  I had trouble tearing my eyes away from his chest.  Glancing up, he looked into my eyes with such a ferocity that I didn't realize I was holding my breath.  His eyes were a deep emerald, inlaid with gold flecks.

I have to admit that I was taken aback by this guy.  Most would just grunt and walk away, but something was different about him, something almost...I don't know.

"Um, yeah, I uh, I think I'm fine," I stuttered "but I'm not so sure about my backpack."

He had gripped the strap so tightly that it broke off, unzipping everything and sliding all of my books across the tiled floor.  I reached down to start picking my things up, but he beat me to it.

"The Great Gatsby.  Are you into reading?" he drawled with a deep and melodic voice.  Reaching up to comb through his wavy brown hair, he stood up and walked closer to me with my books in hand.

"Sure," I refused to give him any more information about me, I was pretty sure he just wanted something from me.

He stood with an air of confidence, dirty black converse and all.  The olive skin and dark-wash jeans added to my theory that he thought he was cooler than he actually was.  He started walking toward the front of the school, and when I didn't follow, he turned around and waited with an impatient look on his face.

I felt very belittled by this guy. He was so much taller than me, and he was dressed a lot better than anything I could ever afford. With my ripped black jeans and plain white cami, it was clear that he came from a place of money, and that I didn't.

"Where are you going with my stuff?" I shivered and hugged my sweatshirt closer to my body.

He chuckled and turned back around. "Well you don't have a bag to carry it in, do you?"

While he was distracted, I took my hair down from its lopsided ponytail, rearranged my old hand-me-down sweatshirt in my arms, and tried to look a little bit more presentable.

"No, but-"

"That's what I thought," he interrupted, slowly walking. "You don't have to thank me, just remember this moment whenever I need a favor from you."

"What kind of favor could you want from me?  I don't even know who you are," I rolled my eyes and started to follow him.

All those wishes of more tan skin, better clothes, and a cuter backpack faded as soon as I saw how arrogant he was. Punching him in the face started to seem like a really good idea.

"Mason, Mason White."

At this point, I wasn't sure if his helpfulness or his arrogance was annoying me more.