I hadn't spoken to Dave since our confrontation at the throwing rings. That didn't bother me in the least, something about him had always rubbed me the wrong way. That being what it was; I needed him now. Rather, Hatchet needed him. More specifically, Hatchet needed all of us; Dave included, and he needed to see us getting along.
So I went to where Dave always was after school, the weight room.
I heard him before I saw him. He was grunting and yelling as he 'exploded' up from every rep of whatever he was doing. A band of baboons rose their voices in a supportive chorus as I opened the weight room door. Dave was struggling with what looked to be about a four hundred fifty-pound squat; his support team huddled around the bench. With a grunt that sounded above the baboons' calls; Dave lifted the weight then slammed it back into the bracket on the bench.
"Nice squat, man!"
"Getting' it, man!
"Hell-uv-a squat, man!"
The baboons tried to form sentences but kept mistaking 'man' for a period.
But seriously four hundred and fifty pounds isn't a bad squat. I should show my support too. "Four-fifty? Really? I thought you were supposed to be the local strong man."
Ending the sentence with 'man.' Call me hypocrite.
Dave bristled at my friendly taunt. "Four hundred and fifty for twelve reps."
The monkeys all went "Ouch" like they thought he had hit me with a clever burn. For my part, I honestly couldn't have cared less, and I was pretty sure he was lying about the twelve reps.
I gave Dave a pointed look then walked past him and his cheerleaders to the locker room. Dave seemed to get the memo; ordering his pep team to tear down his bar.
"Alright hot shot, what's the big idea barging in on my workout." Dave was surprisingly calm.
Now for the hard part. "I...uh..." Force it out Clay. "Well the thing of it is..." I was struggling to say what I needed too. "I-I need you, Dave." There I said it.
Dave's eyes lit up, something flashed in them for a second, but it was gone as fast as it came. Maybe Dave needed that. He needed me to put my faith in him. Then again, maybe he was just an egotistical jock that liked to feel empowered.
He spoke "Really?! The golden boy needs me! What's the matter; lid stuck on the pickle jar?" He raised his right arm, flexed, and kissed his bulging bicep.
I'm not entirely sure that it was meant as a joke, but I laughed anyway. "Well, no, not exactly." Now segue smoothly into the real issue. "It's about Hatchet." Or just blurt it out; that works too.
The smile left Dave's face. He didn't say anything, but I knew that I had his attention. "He needs us." I pushed a little harder.

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A Mask in A Mirror
Teen FictionSaints can't be seen with thieves, drug addicts, and sluts. Contrary to popular belief, high school hallway hero Clay Appleson is no saint and she is no ordinary slut. A Mask in A Mirror is the story of these two star crossed lovers as they battle t...