Why him?

2* The first encounter

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Chapter 2: The first encounter

"Sara, you're spacing out again." Taylor snaps her fingers in front of my face.

I snapped out of it. "Huh?"

The guys chuckled. "Same old Sara." Said Hunter as he tries to tickle me, but in vain since I'm not ticklish.

"You're no fun!" Hunter said with a pout. 

"Mrs. Esperanza is going to kill me, I swear. She has been giving me the evil eye since I asked what 'cabron' meant in English." Taylor said.

I looked at her, surprised. "Honey, that's a very bad word."

She looked at me in shock. "So that's the reason!"

We all laughed and I stopped to tie my shoelace.

Loopty loop and done! 

A ruckus behind me made me look back.

I see him again getting beated up by the same person; Derek. 

My blood boiled. I can't stand it any longer. I stood up and the guys keep walking to class, not really noticing my absence.

Jonathan falls to the ground and all his bag's contents scatter on the floor. Derek starts to kick him on his ribs. Derek's friends laugh at the exchange and take Jonathan's bag, kicking around it's contents.

He doesn't deserve what he's living at.  Nobody should. 

And I'm pissed off about it.

I finally decide he can't go through all of this anymore. I don't care if anyone sees me, nor if I ruin my name when spoken to (they might suddenly call me loser Sara). I'll do something.

I stomp there and push Derek, the bully, off Jonathan. I glared at his pals in crime pointing menacingly. 

"Leave."

It seemed that some bystander took it personally and quickly went on their way, including Derek's friends.  I might already have a reputation. 

Derek knows me very well, considering I've fucked him up pretty good in the past.  He stood back a bit, snickering.  "Really? You're defending him?" 

I glared at him. "Fuck off." I raised my fist, making him flinch back. I smirked, that's what I thought. 

"Fine. I'm getting tired of you anyways." He glanced down at Jonathan with an amused grin, before walking away.  He gave me glares as he turned the corner.

The few bystatnders that stayed stared agape at me.  Nobody really appreciates Jonathan. The whispers began as fast as lightning. If I don't shut them up, the whole school will know that the 'Snow White' of the school saved the 'loner'.  Ugh, how I hate this.

"Get the heck out of here! Nothing to see! Shu!" I screamed at the expectators. They did as told giving me one last crazy look that said 'why do you even bother?'

How couldn't I bother?

I start to pick all the papers. I place them in his bag and turn around to help him stand up. I hold him by his waist, avoiding touching his ribs afraid they might be broken. God, help this boy.

Jonathan whipped the blood that ran out of his nose.

"Who are you?" He asked me without looking at me.

He fixed his hoodie over his head and hanged his head in shame. Shame that he should not be feeling.

Shame is not something you feel when someone beats the crap out of you. Anger, sadness, or distress; yes, but not shame.