Boys Will Be Boys (v.2)

chapter six - freshmen

chapter six — freshmen

MR. REED COULD TAKE HIS TRIGONOMETRY AND SHOVE IT UP HIS ASS. This was fucking Geometry, it wasn't supposed to be hard. The triangles on the board all blurred together, but I salvaged each of them on my paper as I doodled a man made of triangles. His head was a triangle. His nose was a triangle, and I struggled to find what the length of his nostril was. His body was a giant, right triangle, the angles of his armpits an even 45 degrees each, crotch completing it with a 90. I contemplated making his dick triangular before Mr. Reed tapped on my shoulder and I turned my head towards him, not in the least concerned that he'd 'caught me'. I was still doing the work, just not how he'd like it.

He acted like he hadn't interrupted me, bright smile on his face directed at the freshman whose notes were neat and tidy, pencils at the ready for any obscure notes he'd whisper and then put on the test.

"Work on the rest of the problems in your table groups, and only ask me for help if none of you can figure it out"

Fuck that. I don't want to talk to the freshman.

I was a grade behind all my friends and a class level behind my grade, miserably stuck as the only sophomore in a class full of freshmen taking geometry. It fucking sucked.

"Kieran?" A random Indian kid waved his hand in my peripheral vision and I turned back to my work, eyes only briefly glancing at him. He took it as an invitation to open his mouth more and I scowled, already knowing what to expect.

Do you need help?

I wasn't fucking slow like everyone thought I was. I didn't need help. I had all the work right fucking in front of me. I managed a C in the class, which was literally the grade deemed average. I was average, as in, 'not in need of your fucking help'.

"What did you get for number five?"

I blanched, not expecting that at all. My eyes widened the slightest bit before naturally narrowing again, mouth pursed as I scanned my notes.

Was number five Triangle Guy's head?

His crotch?

The dick I hadn't completed yet?

"Um," I stalled for time intelligently, growing more panicked as I thumbed through my various drawings. Fuck.

What the fuck was number five?

"It's okay if you don't have it, I'll just ask—"

"—No, no. I have it. I just..." I trailed off, one hand under the desk flexing and relaxing in time with the pages flipping.

Fuck, that's too far back.

I flipped back to where I'd began again, looking up when the Indian kid coughed.

"Nah, man. It's fine. I'll just ask Mr. Reed"

"But I did it" I locked eyes with him, my own drilling into his flighty black pupils, which were determined not to meet my gaze.

"I-I'm sure you did, but you can just continue your work. Don't waste your time finding it," He tried answering coolly, slowly getting up and out of the chair. He turned his back on me, quickly stumbling over to Mr. Reed. His mouth was moving at a thousand miles a minute, but I couldn't hear jack shit since the room itself was filled with all the things that made freshman annoying. Freshman chatter. Freshman gossip. Freshman fear.

I hunched my shoulders, starting to feel peoples' eyes on me. They felt slimy and I craned my neck, nose almost squashed flat into the numbers so I wouldn't see them stare. They always stared. Sometimes I liked it, especially after a game of basketball. They would stare, almost hungrily, mouth wide open with praise. I liked that. But this wasn't that. This was the soul-deep stare of Judgement Day that I despised. The one that people dealt out on the daily though I couldn't care less for what they thought.