Unexpected

Unwanted

Scott:

     I sprinted out of math class the moment I heard the lunch bell ring. Luckily, I was the first to the cafeteria (although I had lost my appetite after the incident in the hallway, but the food didn't look that appealing anyway). I inspected the lunchroom, finally deciding to sit at the table in the far corner. Hopefully, it didn't belong to Carson and his buddies.

     I sat on the bench connected to the table. It immediately snapped under my weight and I landed on my rear end. Some people behind me snickered until they caught a glimpse of my face, instantly shutting them up. I groaned. How many people had witnessed my outburst? How fast had word about me spread?

     "Here, let me help you," said a quiet, high-pitched voice from behind me. I turned, expecting to see a girl, but I quickly realized that I was wrong. It was the brown-haired boy from the hallway.

​​​​​     Part of me wanted to ignore him, get up, and sit down at the table in the other corner of the room. If it weren't for him, I wouldn't have been in this position! The kid who sits next to me in Science was kind enough to inform me that I had already made it to YouTube on five different channels. Each video already had a couple dozen views, which would quickly grow to hundreds, or even thousands, considering my luck.

     In summary: I resented a kid I hardly knew.

     Of course, it wasn't all his fault, but he could have afforded to stick up for himself a little. I did that when I was getting picked on at the end of my junior year. . .

     Then I realized: I had a support group, a tiny cluster of friends who always stood by me. This guy had no one. No one to call a friend, no one to let him know it was all okay.

     No one.

     Hesitantly, I took the hand that he offered me, allowing him to pull me up with a surprising amount of strength. "Thanks," I mumbled, making my way to the next bench. "That one's broken, too," he said patiently. I hovered over the next one. "I wouldn't sit there, either." I sighed. The only bench left was the one where the he sat. I plopped my lunch tray as far away from him as I could.

     Hey, it didn't hurt to stick with Rule #3, "Don't get too close to anybody."

     I picked at my food in silence with a feeling that I was being watched. I looked up for a second to see Carson staring me down from the other side of the room, not looking happy. He made a throat-slitting gesture and pointed at me before rejoining the conversation going on at his own table.

    I rolled my eyes.

     "It's been two years since more than one person sat here," the brunette said quietly. I took a moment to inspect him, since I hadn't had much time to do so that morning. He had quite an unusual hair style, the sides and back of his head shaved while the rest was swept neatly to the left, covering part of his face, but he pulled it off. His arched eyebrows hovered over a pair of huge, chocolate-brown eyes. The oversized hoodie he wore displayed the name of a clothing brand that I was unfamiliar with, and he was just about the scrawniest person I'd ever seen.

      But he was just so. . . feminine. I understood why he got picked on so much. Highschoolers ate guys like him for breakfast.

     He blushed when he noticed me staring, causing me to quickly look away, a little rosy myself. I cleared my throat. "I'm Scott, by the way." He nodded. "Mitch."

     "Yeah, Carson said your name in the hallway. . ."

     Mitch's expression turned to one of sadness, making me curious towards his history with Carson. But he quickly recovered by changing the subject. "So, where you from, Scott? I mean, you're obviously new. Everyone knows not to be stupid enough to mess with Carson. No offense."

     I made a mental note to question him later. "I used to live in Florida, but my mom got promoted to the manager of the company she works for. Now we're here." Another nod. Mitch began to play with the carrots on his tray, avoiding the disgusting lump of a hamburger in the far corner. Who worked in this school's cafeteria?

     "Why are you sitting here, anyway?" he asked suddenly. I was caught off guard. Where else would I sit? I'd probably get kicked out of any other table. The relationship between the tablemates probably took years to build. Barging in would be more awkward than it was here with Mitch.

     "Nobody wants to be stuck with the new kid. Except for you, apparently." 

     Mitch shook his head. "That's not how things work at Martin. You do something to get you recognition, bam! There's your ticket into the fast lane." He pointed to a rather large table in the center of the room surrounded by kids. Some stood while others sat for there weren't enough spaces.

     "Standing up to Carson. . . you're practically a legend. Should've taken your chance with the 'popular' group, but I'm not sure if they'd accept you anymore, considering you're sitting with the unwanted gay boy of Arlington."
I looked at him with sad eyes. My experiences in Florida seemed like nothing in comparison to his. Yet he was completely unfazed, as if he had accepted it all.

     I wanted to comfort him, but what could I say? Don't worry, it's gonna be okay. Yeah, that'll convince him. Experiences like this are supposed to make you stronger. You'll benefit from this in the end! Cheesy.

     I know how it feels to be judged by your sexuality. . . Whoa, a little too far.

     But he was struggling. Maybe I could just. . .

    Mitch stood up to leave, but I grabbed his wrist, startling him. "Mitch. . ." I trailed off.

     He shook his head and left.