Beginning of Secrets

A Book, A Salad, A Bully

"Ew, salad," Leonardo exclaimed as he emptied the brown bag his mother packed him. His cropped amber hair seemed to wilt at this discovery. He tugged on his black leather jacket, which never lost its original shine, before brushing his hands across his black skinny jeans, covering his stilt-like legs. His silver chain necklace swayed across his chest as he pouted over the meal.

"Your mom told me she wants you to eat that," Lucas chimed from across the lunch table. He was not as stylish as his taller friend. He wore a blue and white striped polo with a pair of tan pants and white sneakers he cleaned the night before.

"What am I, a rabbit," he exclaimed as shook the container in his hand. His narrowed eyes matched the spinach being tossed around in the container. "I told her I'm trying to gain weight. Plus, salad is the sad man's food. All this has done is made me depressed."

"Why do you not pack your own lunch?" Carvington asked, his Slavic accent prominent, as swirled his spoon through the mashed potatoes on his lunch tray. His shaggy shoulder-length brunette mane jolted as he moved his gaze to his redheaded friend. The shorter teen wore a maroon sweatshirt, a size too big, with 'Texas' printed in worn down white lettering on the center. His bootcut jeans had specks of dried paint dusted across the upper left leg and the bottoms were crushed underneath his tattered black sneakers.

"Trust me. I've tried," Leo explained. "My mom said 'she wants to be able to take care of her baby before he leaves her.'"

"You definitely still are a baby," Jessica joked. Her long lush umber ringlets bounced as she cackled at her jab at her friend, Carvington, Lucas following suit.

Leonardo rolled his eyes. "I'm going to get something to eat, and hopefully figure out what I'm going to do with these pile of leaves."

"You're not going to eat that?" Jessica asked.

"Nope," Leonardo said.

"Then, can I-"

"I'll eat it," Carvington interjected before snatching the container from the other side of the table. Leonardo simply walked off as Jessica backhanded Carvington's arm.

"Fatass," she exclaimed as she struck him again. "You already ate my other sandwich, Lucas's apple, and let's not forget your own lunch!"

"I did not have breakfast. Also, I am not fat." Carvington grabbed his fork and inhaled the leafy greens.

"Are you gonna be this hungry tonight?" Lucas asked, watching him devour the salad. "Should I ask my mom to get more food?"

Jessica gasped and covered her mouth, eyes wide. "I totally forgot about your party," she squeaked. "I already agreed to babysit the Robinson's. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," Lucas said with a comforting smile. "Your gift was more than enough. Plus, Carv's probably going to eat enough for two. Hopefully, that will tame his hunger for a while."

"I do not eat that much," Carvington protested as he pushed the empty container back to Leo's brown lunch bag.

"Barely a minute," Leonardo muttered in awe as he placed his tray on the table. "You should enter a hotdog eating contest."

"I don't like pig flesh," Carv said, glancing at his digital watch. "Lucas! 30 minutes."

"Thanks," Lucas mumbled as he pulled the book from his backpack. He opened the paperback book and placed the bookmark next to him.

"What's that?" asked Leo.

"The book your mom gave me. It's really good." His eyes never drifted from the page as he gave his answer. As he began to turn the page, a meaty hand snatched the book away from behind him.

"What do we have here?" the thief asked.

Lucas turned around, spotting the perpetrator. Drake sneered at the book in his letterman jacket. He was accompanied by the rest of the football team. Lucas shifted his eyes around the room. "Give it back," he demanded weakly.

"I don't know if I should," Drake said. "I mean it's so weird how you have time to leisurely read, but not help me rewrite my essay after I paid you to."

"I promised a passing grade!"

"I got a B, and we said my desired grade. All I want is my money back since you're not going to tutoring me anymore."

"Drake, come on. Leave the kid alone. It's not that deep," one of his comrades said.

"Like I told you before, I'm not giving you anything. It's not my fault you're an idiot," Lucas spat.

Drake's jaw tightened. "Drake-" another started as he reached for Drake's wrist.

"No," Drake said as he snatched his arm away. "He's a jerk. He told Mr. Arnold I'm stupid and now everyone thinks I'm an idiot."

"Well, I guess the people have finally learned the truth," Lucas laughed.

"You know you're really starting to get on my nerves," Drake said as he roughly pushed Lucas' shoulder back. Before Lucas could even say anything back, he heard a thud and his assaulter was flat on his butt on the ground followed by the gasp of his comrades. He looked up to see Carvington drawing his arms back to his sides. Carvington's eyes were darkened and narrowed as he stared down the attacker. "What's your problem?"

As Drake jumped to his feet, Carvington moved in front of Lucas, blocking him from the others. "If you have a problem with him, then you have a problem with me," he said, his voice cutting their shock like a sharpened blade.

"Lukey's a big boy, why doesn't he fight his own fights," Drake pipped.

Lucas grimaced. "I can take care of myself," Lucas stated unsurely, looking up at Drake.

"Prove it," Drake threatened, moving towards Lucas. He stumbled back again as Carvington pushed him.

"Stay back or I will not hold back," Carvington said menacingly. Jessica struck Leo's arm, getting his attention, before motioning towards the brewing conflict. Leo nodded, understanding her silent message.

Leonardo leapt to his feet placing himself between the two. "Let's not be stupid," Leonardo joked holding his arms up to each of their chest. Drake smacked Leo's hand away with the back of his hand. "Ow." Leo frowned rubbing his hand with the other. "Seriously, you guys need to calm the fuck down. Let's all take a deep breath."

Carvington balled his hands into a fist. The tension between the two suffocated their friends. Lucas shot out his hand and gripped Carvington's wrist. "Stop," he said. "It's not worth it. Plus, I'm pretty sure there's an organization against that. I don't want Voices Against Violence of Dumbasses to come for you."

"Drake, you know Coach won't let you play if you get into a fight," Drake's friend said. "We can't beat West Lake if you're on the bench."

The two stared each other down. Neither showed any signs of breaking away.