Time And I

One

You get used to people staring at you once you give them a reason to notice you. Whether or not you're wanting the attention doesn't matter. I never asked for my peers to stare at me as I walked down to class, but with my hands bandaged, I was essentially asking for it.

It wasn't so much the bandages itself, so much as the curiosity of how I was injured. Ever since Devon Quid got suspended for punching the quarterback on the first day back from summer break, everyone looked for the next person who would pick an unnecessary fight. Without the school's residential loner around to intimidate others, everyone had looked for the next him.

It made sense why they would look to me to fill his role. It wasn't as though I was popular to begin with. Most people would run away whenever they saw me freshman year. I had long black hair back then, which had since been cut down to my mid-neck. Gray eyes weren't the most natural color to stare back into, and mine being heavily outlined in black kohl didn't help either. Add in violet lips, and I have the look of the next outcast down.

It wasn't as though I was trying to fit in. I had the look of a future rock star. I'd be the drummer of the biggest rock band in the world. I just needed to join a band first.

Anyone who knew me knew the care I took in taking care of my hands. Why I would try to damage them in a petty fight would be fruitless. I was already internally freaking out over the damage that had already been done.

"Damn, Mel," Buddy winced as he watched me walk over to my desk.

Buddy Valentine was the only reason I was not outcasted in the traditional sense. I was envied because of him. But after having been his best friend through his middle school days of being bullied, we were close. And now, being the apple of every girl's eye, they all wished to be as close to him as I.

"What did you do?"

"Jeanie was rearranging her studio because her replica of the Master Sword came in. As we were hanging it up, she wound up losing her grip, and it fell on my knuckles."

"Jesus, are you alright?" he panicked as he grabbed my hand. Dried blood was already caked onto the bandages, but the bleeding had long since stopped.

"Yeah, I'll be alright. I just hope it doesn't leave a scar."

"Are you still going to be able to drum?"

"I'll end up like Richard John Cyril Allen if I have to. But the doctor said I'll be fine. I just need to keep my hands bandaged for a couple days."

"Let me know if you need help with anything. Note taking. Book carrying. Driving."

"Thanks for the offer, but I'll be fine. See?" I said as I made a fist. I winced as I squeezed my hand, and Buddy instantly grabbed it. I snorted as he glared at me for faking, but I saw the opportunity, and I took it.

"I actually happen to be worried about you, you know," he pouted, as our teacher stood up from her desk.

"I'm sorry," I whispered to him as Mrs. Bustier began her English lesson, and I smirked at his pout.

Mrs. Bustier called me to her desk as everyone left. Buddy offered to stay back with me, but I promised him I would meet up with him later.

"Mel, I was hoping you could do me a big favor."

"Why me?" It wasn't as though I was any teacher's favorite student, or even a trustworthy one. I was just as average as everyone else.

"Because you're the only person who might say yes."

This was new. "What's up?"

"As you may or may not know, Devon Quid's expulsion ended a week ago."

"So?"

"He still hasn't come to school. I was hoping you would bring over his classwork... maybe convince him to come back."

I take it back. This wasn't new. "Why me?"

"Because people are always staring at you every day. If anyone can relate to him, it'd be you. You can talk some sense into him."

"Are you saying he gets anxious when people stare?"

She didn't say anything.

"Is that really the only reason you're asking me?"

"If anyone could be the friend he needs, it'd be you."

I licked my lips as I thought it over. More than anything, she most likely asked me since Devon didn't scare me. I'd shared multiple classes with him since we were freshman. He always was a loner, not having any friends. Well, at least none that had his back when he needed someone the most.

Whenever it came down to being paired up, we were always the last two (unless Buddy was in class) left over. It never bothered me to work with him. Typically he wouldn't say anything, but any time he did, he was polite. Suddenly, the staring thing made more sense.

"Do you have his address?"

Mrs. Bustier jerked her head up, surprised. "You'll do it?"

"You just asked me to..." I trailed off.

"No- I mean, yes. Yes! Thank you. Would you be willing to bring his other assignments as well?"

"Might as well," I shrugged.

I agreed to meet her at her office at the end of the day. She'd pick up the rest of his assignments on her lunch break, and I'd collect it before I'd leave. It'd be weird to see him outside of school. I wouldn't qualify him as an actual friend. He was definitely more a school friend, like the kind you'd only ever see in school, but if you ran into them anywhere else, you wouldn't even make eye contact with them. Maybe a nod, if anything.

But Devon was nice, in my opinion. Sure, what he did to Jett wasn't nice or anything, but he was kind to me. Maybe it was because we were both outcasts in our rights. We were able to click that way. No matter what, he was a good kid in my eyes.

Buddy stood outside the classroom with some of his friends and a few admirers. As I walked to my next class, Buddy excused himself and ran up to me, flinging his arm around my shoulders and stepping in tune with me. "What happened? Is everything okay?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?"

"Mrs. Bustier never asks to see you."

"She just had a favor for me," I explained. "Since I know Devon, she wanted me to bring him his missing classwork."

I stepped out of Buddy's grip due to him stopping in the middle of the hall. I turned back to face him, staring at his panicking face. "You said no, right?"

"Why would I do that?"

"He snapped." Grabbing my shoulders, he pushed me against the lockers, out of everyone's way. "I know you've parented up with him in class before, but he punched Jett. Unprovoked."

"Who cares?" I admitted. "I'm doing our teacher a favor. Lord knows I'm going to fail something and need to boost my grade. This could be the leverage I need."

"You're mental," he stated, as I pushed his arms off me.

I snorted. "Nah. I'm metal."