Sorry, I'm Not

Part 3

Everything seems to fall right back into its perfect place. There’s really no reason to stress over the situation. I mean, seriously, there’s no way a single being could change the perspective of an entire high school.

If anything, I should thank him. Already, I’ve had dozens approaching me after my teary exit. It’s possible that that Reese kid just made me even more pitifully famous than I already am. Lovely, because now there’s an opposition, and everyone loves a good case of democracy. Yes, especially when there’s an invisible law that needs to be passed; the law that Donatello should be bowed to like a king. Reese the ignorant will have no other choice than to take back his words. Not when the whole school is for me, looking at me, paying their full attention and devotion to me. Of course no one will be for his cause, please, would you rather give pity with a sense of satisfaction, or ignore the hurting in sin?

I lavish my hand over my freshly bleached scalp; it crinkles under my touch. Walking down the halls with might, I notice the pack of whored out wolves crowding around Reese and his locker, I laugh under my breath. He’ll pay for what he said, ohhh he will.

He feels their presence almost immediately but doesn’t seem to care. The kid even took time to fill up his backpack, sling it over his shoulder, and recompose the tilt of his snapback.

Eventually the pack realizes that just standing around him with puffed out faces and snooty expressions isn’t grabbing his attention in the least. A chiwawa faced blonde makes a very obvious fake cough, making Reese sigh on the inside. Now he has no excuse to procrastinate the inevitable.

Putting on the most gentlemanly smile he can muster, he turns around. “Hey ladies.”

They scowl at his efforts.

“Ya, stop with the sweet talk, it’s like seriously nauseating.”

His expression fades to a silent monotone.

“So I think you know why we’re here.” She clacks her lips, staring at him like he’s a piece of meat.

“I have an idea.” He stares off with hard eyes.

“Ya,” clack. “So like, when someone comes in between me and my queer best friend Donny they’re gonna be expecting something back, Reed.”

“It’s Reese.”

“Whatever homophobe.” She throws up a hand in diss form, wacking her inhumanly long eyelashes past her eyebrows.

“So, are you going to beat me up now?” Reese chuckles, but immediately puts it away when he finds all five girls glaring.

“Ew, no.” When she forwards her attention down the hall, it’s obvious to say that Reese will soon start to take this threat seriously.

Five boyfriends; enslaved ones to be exact, plow down the hall with wife beaters and biceps. I wonder if Reese has nice arms under his emo poser sweatshirt…, well I guess the amount he benches doesn’t give him much of an advantage versus a fleet of six foot tall douchebags.  

“What are you waiting for? Beat the shit out of him!” She hollers.

The heel of his shoe squeaks in spin, and he throws himself down the hall in a desperate sprint.

                 

***

My mind screams at them to run faster. I hate how Reese caught some distance, his black sweater and backpack disappearing behind a wall. Breathing sputters as I try and keep up in the action. After closely knitting the corner we see him in sight, and after feeling our presence he picks up speed just to have his snapback topple off his head. It’s trampled then spit out behind us.