- Adrenaline -

Chapter 7: Tread Lightly.

I eventually recovered, from both the embarrassment as well as the sickness acquired from pushing myself in gym. One more period passed but I wasn't really present for it. Physically, yes, but mentally, I was somewhere else.
The final bell rings and I'm walking to my locker, grabbing extra text books I'll need for homework and putting away the ones I don't.

John must have known I was vulnerable. I was sick with my head in the bin like I was a scared ostrich. So what does he do, watching me as I heave hopelessly? He asks me to tutor him, in art no less. All I'm ever known for is my stupid genetic clone father. Well what good has he done for me?
Here, clone son, I bestow upon you this gift. Thanks clone dad, what is it? Mental illness. Fuck OOOFF.
And FUCK John too. What kind of asshole asks someone for help while they're in a state like that! Oh I helped you in gym, now you owe me! The only thing you helped me with was losing another two pounds, fucking dick.
So, of course I said yes! Stupid asshole is just sooo charming. Mr. I get all the pussy I want, Mr. cant say no to this pretty face!
I slam my locker shut, kicking it out of anger.
"Stupid bit- OW! FUCK!"

Idiot.

~*~

The walk home is quiet, for the most part. Cars and buses are buzzing buy. Kids who ride the bus like to pull down the windows at shout at passing high schoolers who walk too and from home. It doesn't bother me- it's actually kind of funny. Because, what are they really making fun of? The fact I can't drive? You're in a bus, dude.
Something vibrates in my back pocket. I struggle to fish it out, under my backpack and my oversized sweater. By the time I pull it out, the screen has gone dark again, like it's taunting me for not being quick enough.
Pressing the power button solidifies my fears.

Unknown number, 4:04 PM
hey dood! its John. thanks for helping me out man. how about tomorrow after school ;)

Excuse me?
I tap the info button and save his contact as Dumb Jock, with his address in the notes. I hesitate with a reply, my thumbs gliding over the keyboard in a sort of dance of indecision.

Me, 4:07 PM
I'll ask my mom. I can probably walk there.
Seen at 4:07 PM

My eyebrows furrow. I have learned two things about Kennedy in the span of three minutes. One, he has horrible grammar, and two, he was... eager for my reply.
At least that's what it seems like, right? I can't be the only one who thinks that when someone sees your text as soon as it's sent. And the winky face? That just spells bad news. He's probably playing some sort of prank on me. Maybe I shouldn't even show up.

Home is in my sight. Just two more blocks and I can relax for ten seconds before starting my homework. I get another buzz.

Stupid Jock, 4:17 PM
i can drive u :o

Me, 4:17 PM
Don't play games with me. If you're just pretending to be nice, knock it out and stop texting me.

Stupid Jock, 4:18 PM
im not pretending :( sorry

Shit, he was being genuine? Or is this all part of the plan? I stand still for a minute, thinking of what to say.

Me, 4:19 PM
Sorry, Kennedy. I'm just nervous.

Stupid Jock, 4:19 PM
its okay, i hope you still wanna come over 2morrow

I've got to tread carefully with this.

~*~