Scholar

Fifteen

That week was possibly one of my worst. Ryan wasn't talking to me, and Chelsea was being incredibly awkward. The week went by slow and uneventful, and the only good thing was that Jeremiah hadn't shown up all week. On Friday, I did something I normally didn't do. I skipped class.

I couldn't bear to be stuck with a pissed off Ryan who wanted nothing to do with me for an entire class period. I couldn't drive home early and leave Chelsea, so I wandered down the hall. Maybe, this was the end of Ryan and I's friendship...or anything-ship. Maybe, that was for the best, though. Nothing could have ever happened between us, and I was stupid for believing anything else. College would be leading us different ways, anyway, and we would probably have stopped talking because of the distance.

After a few minutes of walking and thinking about thing I'd have rather not thought about, I heard a click. I turned around. I saw a boy with his arms crossed in front of me. He was barely a foot away from me.

"Hey, Alex," he said. I crossed my arms and recognized him as a kid who loved to copy off of my chemistry work, Mark.

"Hey," I wearily responded. I looked at him. Something felt off. My heart was pounding, and the hairs on my arms stood up.

"I'm really sorry 'bout this, bro," he said. I raised an eyebrow, and he dropped his arm to his side. I saw it glimmer under the fluorescent light, a pocket knife. Adrenaline replaced blood and was pumped through my entire body. I wanted to run because I knew I couldn't take him in a fight. The only thing stopping we was the fact that there was a dead end behind me, and the only hallway connecting to an exit was blocked by Mark.

"What the hell are you doing?" I asked, attempting to hide the terror in my voice. I could hear the blood rushing through my veins, and my heart was pounding insanely. I tried to keep my breathing under control to stop myself from panicking.

"Something I've got to do," he responded, emotionless. "It's not really my decision." I swallowed nervously. I couldn't stop my hands from shaking. He stepped towards me, and suddenly, someone's arm was pushing me back, causing me to stumble and press my backpack against the wall. I heard the now-familiar click of a pocket knife and looked up in shock to see Ryan standing in front of me.

"Yeah, no," he said simply. "Back off." Mark stood up straight.

"You know I have to, Ryan. Come on, you saw what he did to Jeremiah," Mark justified. Ryan shook his head.

"I said back off," he replied sternly. "We both already know how it ends when I get into a fight." Mark reluctantly stepped back and walked away.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked.

"How did you know that was gonna happen?" I responded, completely ignoring his question. He smiled and shook his head. His smile reached his eyes and, in turn, made me smile a little.

"Word spreads on my side of town. What can I say? They suck at keeping things quiet." 

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Honestly, what would you have done? Be realistic, they don't take you seriously, and you wouldn't have been able to do anything about that." I was silent, mad that he had a fair point.

A silence fell between us. I decided that this was my opportunity to ask the question that's been on my mind on all week.

"So you aren't mad at me for what I said?" I asked. Ryan shrugged. If he shrugged one more time, his shoulders would have fallen off.

"Why should I care? You don't." I felt the same fear I felt when Mark pulled the knife on me. I was afraid of being hurt. I was afraid to lose something. I was afraid to lose Ryan.