School’s never really fun. I mean, sure, some people like learning. I have my days where I become a little bit of a nerd, but this year I really mean it when I say school’s not fun. Even after all of the first week bullshit blew over, it didn’t get fun.
Each new day that I arrived, Devon and I fell into the same routine. This happens every year, but usually our traditions are more interesting and less irritating. She meets me at the door, and she’s started bringing us both coffees, thank god. We visit my locker and glance across the hall. Enter Steve, bothering the same poor little blonde haired freshman.
This morning is no different.
“Steve. This is getting old,” I snap, sipping my coffee and glaring at him. He gave me a devilish smile and slung his arm around the little girl, who looked so uncomfortable that she might start crying.
“Get your slimy hands off of her,” Dev says from off my right shoulder. We’ve been saving this girl every day for the past two weeks. It’s almost October; shouldn’t this girl have learned to stay away by now?
“Hey,” I acknowledge the freshman. She looks up at me with scared eyes. “Why don’t you just avoid him?” I ask. Her deer in the headlights look is kind of cute.
“She wants my body,” Steve winks, trailing his free hand down his body. I admit it, it’s nice. He’s tall with blonde hair, green eyes, and a very nice eight pack. I know this because he was in my gym class last year for swimming.
Devon giggles while I roll my eyes. I keep my gaze intently on the freshman and wait for her answer. She knows I expect one.
“He waits for me at the door. The moment I walk in he’s got me,” she says with wide eyes, flinching as Steve visibly grips her tighter. What a freakin’ creep.
“Steve let her go. She hasn’t done anything to you, why can’t you just forget her and move on?” I asked, noting that I sounded like I was talking to an angry and possessive ex-boyfriend about an ex-girlfriend, rather than a childish senior boy hitting on an unwilling underage freshman.
He rolls his eyes at me and lets her go, for which she smiles gratefully. The bell rings and Steve tells me he’ll see me in first period before he walks off. The girl looks at me with awe.
“What?” I ask. She’s still got that deer-in-the-headlights look. It’s not as cute anymore.
“How do you get him to listen to you?” She asks me. I shrug and smirk.
“Guys are easy to control if you know what you’re doing. You, my dear, just don’t know what you’re doing,” I stick my hand out for her to shake, “I’m Celia Jones.” She tells me she’s Megan Wright. Through the next thirty seconds I tell her how it’s going to go.
I’m not usually a controlling girl. I like to sit back, enjoy the ride, and let everyone else actually try in life. I got my lazy attitude from my father; it’s a curse. But just this once, I was considering taking a proactive approach in this little girl’s safety. She didn’t deserve to be walked on by a slob like Steve.
“After school, meet us across the hall,” I pointed at my locker, “and I’ll take you to my house. We’ll teach you a few things about boys that you’ll need to know over some hot chocolate or something. My mom always brings home Dunkin for me.” She nods meekly and scurries off to class.
I grab Devon’s hand as a goodbye gesture and head off to my first class. Thankfully Matt is here today, because I don’t think I could stand being alone with Steve anymore.
“Hey, Ceil,” he greets me with a smile. I’m very pleased with the progression of our friendship. We’ve gone from unrequited obsession and easy obliviousness to the budding possibility for an actual friendship. Matt’s easy to talk to, though he does steal my breath away from me sometimes.
