“And why not?”
“Because everyone treats me like crap,” I barked. “I’m sure he won’t be any different.”
“Language, mister! And who treats you like crap?”
“Everyone,” I snapped. “Aren’t youlistening?”
She crossed her arms and stared at me. She didn’t have to say anything. She’d already made her point.
I tried to push down hard on my irritation and frustration. “Everyone at school bosses me around. The guys make me clean up after them at lunch, the coach makes me put away the equipment after practice when I’m not even on the team, and the teachers are always on me to sit quietly and pay attention.”
“Well yeah, youshouldbe paying attention,” Mom retorted. “As for the rest of it, do you want me to talk to them?”
“Oh, noway.” The last thing I needed was the guys ragging on me because I ran crying to Mommy.
“Then listen to me. You know why they’re having you do things for them. It shouldn’t upset you, it should let you know you’re part of the community.”
“I wish it was someone else,” I grumbled.
“Everyone has a role to play,” she reminded me. “You’re doing something onlyyoucan do. No one else can.”
Oh, joy. Lucky me.
“As for this new boy, he’s a stranger to our community. He doesn’t know how things work, and he needs someone to guide him. That’ll be your responsibility. Show him what the town is like, but also remember to keep the secrets just that—secret.”
“I understand.”
She ruffled my hair. “Good boy. Now, how about we make a cake for dessert?”
“No, thank you.” I was still angry over the fact I had no control in my life.
“Trust me, sweetie. This boy? He’s going to do you a world of good.”
There was always the chance she was right. Maybe meeting Kip could be the best thing that had ever happened to me.
But with my luck, probably not.
Kip
If you asked someone how they met their best friend, they’re usually able to point out one moment that cemented their friendship and made it become something unbreakable. What did that for me and Mason?
A fart. My stomach had been in knots all morning, and it decided then was the perfect time to express itself.
Only, it wasn’t a silent one. It was loud enough that everyone in the room heard it, which was followed by most of the boys giggling like mad and the girls trying to move away. The teacher, a stern woman of about sixty, stood in front of the class, demanding to know who’d done the deed.
Aw crap.
I was new, and something like this would get me labeled a troublemaker right from day one, and would follow me throughout all the years we spent in this town. I prepared to raise my hand, when the kid in the desk next to me stood.
He coughed. “It was me, Mrs. Morgan. I’m sorry. We had burritos for dinner, and it just… squeaked out.”
That was all it took for the class to break up laughing again, and for our teacher to stand, red-faced, in front of the class.
“I understand it’s biological,” she ground out, “butplease, try to keep control of yourself in the future. Now, say excuse me and let’s get back to work.”
He turned to face our classmates. “I’m sorry for my slippage.” His bright tone sure didn’t sound sorry, but then again it hadn’t been him who’d done it. The boys laughed, and the girls looked confused.
Me? I was in awe of him.
