Social Clique

4.

The bell rings for the next class. I quickly grab the rest of my books out of my locker and stuff them into my school bag before walking off to to my next class. As I make my way down the hall something hard hits the back of my shoulders, sending me skidding forwards. I drop everything and fall to the ground on my knees. I look up, just in time to see a smirking Paxton walk off with two other 'friends.'

That's how it's been these last few weeks. After he attended the first party with Mike he has continued to go to them - only earning the reputation that Mike wants him to, I guess I helped create it too. I never wanted for him to become something cruel and hard like he has.

I start to collect my scattered things before walking off to my next class. I bow my head and walk into the classroom and sit down at the first desk in sight, which happens to be at the back of the classroom near Paxton's little group. I shake my head, contemplating how I could ever get stuck here.

I lean over my desk and open my bag and fetch out my history book and pencil case before settling back down in my set, waiting for the teacher to come in and begin the lesson.

Halfway through the lesson, when I am writing down notes from the class board, something hits me in the side of the head. My head snaps up and I slowly turn it to look into Paxton's direction.

He's sitting in the back corner, with all his little friends surrounding him, as well as a hand full of scrunched up paper balls. I shake my head once again and go back to my work.

A few minutes later another ball hits my head. This time I don't bother looking over because I know it's him throwing them, he always is when we sit this close together in class.

When the bell rings, ending this class. I drop my things back in my bag and zip it up. I stand up, push my chair in and then grab my bag, pulling it onto my back. As I walk out of the classroom, from the corner of my eye I can see Paxton sitting at his desk, lost in thought - away from the world.

This time, his face isn't cruel and hard, almost vulnerable. As the weeks past since the first incident his face has turn into this had cruel mask, but on slight rare occasions it would shine through like it has now and leave me mesmerised by what I've lost and the thing I continue to keep missing out on.

I stand there for a few seconds before I see his snap out of his day dream and look directly at me. My eyes go wide and I take off walking down the hall, wanting to put some distance between up, not wanting another close encounter with him.

As I near the front of the school, I stop dead in my tracks, my maths book. I've not taken it out of me locker. I spin around and walk back down to the locker rooms. As I walk near my history class, I notice that the door is half closed. As I get closer to the door, I can hear voices - one being the angry history teacher deep voice yelling at someone in there.

As I walk past the doorway, my head automatically snaps in that direction to see what is happening inside the classroom. To my surprise Paxton is the one inside there being scolded.

Mr P is standing, both of his palms flat on either side of him. He is slightly leaning over the desk, looking down on Paxton, giving him an intimidating look.

I walk just past the door, then I find myself stopping and listening in on the conversation.

"What's happened to you?" Mr P asks, anger no longer in his deep, rough voice. "You used to be one of the top students in my class, in your year, but now you've completely changed. You act up in class and don't do your work. If you don't hand in this next assignment then you are going to fail this unit and then you wont be able to play on the football team." Mr P goes onto explain.

I gasp, he's going to get kicked off, he can't! Everything goes quiet inside, that's when I continue walking down the hallway, acting like I had not just tuned into parts of their private conversation.

After I've taken a few steps down the hall, Paxton storms out of the classroom, throwing the door out of his was. It flies out behind him, hitting the inner wall of the classroom - a huge bang erupts from the room, sending a cold chill down my spine.

I stop in my tracks and turn my gaze towards the door, not wanting to draw further attention to myself. I patiently wait for Paxton to walk past me, but when I don't hear any retreating footsteps, my head snaps up, just to see Paxton walk right in front of me.

"What are you still doing here?" he asks, running his eyes up and down my body. I blush from his gesture before returning my gaze back down to the floor.

"I forgot my maths book," I reply quietly. Ever since the incident in the cafeteria, I've not been able to look him straight in the eye, how can I, he's changed so much, I can't bare to look into the eyes of the monster I've created.

"Oh, okay. I guess I'll see you later." As Paxton goes to walk off, I find my hand reaching up and grabbing hold of his tanned toned arm in my small pale hand.

For the first time in weeks, my eyes wonder their way up to his blue one, I find myself getting lost in them once again. "I can help you in your history assignment, like old times." I say, smiling at the thought of being able to hang out and talk to him again.

One of the most fun times we've had together was when I used to help him with his history assignments or to study. My fascination about our countries history seemed to make something inside of him come alive, the sparkle in his eye was something extraordinary to be able to observe.

His face turns from the calm poker face to a raging, angry one. His thick black eyebrows completely drop causing a mass of wrinkles to appear above his eyes - on his forehead. His jaw clenches and then un clenches. "It's rude to eaves drop on private conversations."

I gulp, my heart beat begins to pick up pace. I hadn't meant to offend him, but there again, I've never been good with words. When I'm only trying to help out a person in need, I only end up offending them or just plain on making the problem/ conversation worse, if only they could just see the side in my that truly wants to help them.

"I just don't want to see you get kicked off the football team, you've just made it on there. And your dad will be so sad too, you just made captain, he's be so disappointed if you where to get kicked off." My head drops, afraid of what his next sentence will be.

Instead of another angry outburst, I feel his rough hand softly slip onto my soft pink check, slowly sliding it's way under my chin before guiding my head to look up into his eyes once more. His face is now softened to a sad one.

"I just, I guess I could use the help." He frowns looking at the floor.

"I could come to your house on friday and so then you can hand it in before the weekend." I say, a plan already forming inside my head.

"Okay, I can do that." He nods. He lets go of my chin and walks off in the opposite direction, off in thought once again. I find myself smiling to myself as I continue to walk down the hall to my locker. Maybe I could work with this and try to mend our broken relationship back to the one we once had.

I can only hope.