Disclaimer: I don't own Detentionaire!
Title: Lunch And Lunchboxes
Summary: As far as Cam was concerned, lunchtime was the worst part of the day.
Warnings: Pre-canon, some sorta-racist remarks, possibly O.O.C, etc.
...
As far as Cam was concerned, lunchtime was the worst part of the day.
Teachers weren't hovering nearby during lunch. Kids didn't have to be quiet during lunch. Should he be dragged off somewhere and beaten up, no one would notice. And, even if they did, nobody cared enough to tell the teachers or stop them.
All the more reason to be careful, he'd decided the first night he came home bruised and swollen.
He didn't go through the lunch line. He didn't go to the bathrooms. And he certainly didn't sit at the wrong table.
The problem being, every table was the wrong table.
Jocks? The leader shouted at him as he passed. "Go back to Mexico already!"
Nope, not the jocks.
Nerds? No, they were too smart for him. They demanded he use proper sentence structure and grammar. The familiar but slightly shameful weight of the Spanish-To-English dictionary in his backpack pressed harder against his back. Well, at least his English was getting better, right?
Popular girls? Please. Like he even had to explain that one.
Goths? He looked over his yellow and red clothes. Sure, if he wanted to look like a Christmas tree in the middle of a graveyard.
Well, that was about everyone. He squinted harder, looking for even the slightest bit familiar face.
Then he saw it. Red and black hair.
He knew him. Not personally, but he'd pointed him to his first class on his first day of school, and he'd heard plenty of rumors about 'The Asian Kid' who'd saved his butt when he'd tried to flirt with those girls a few weeks back.
Well, it was worth a try.
"Um, uh..." The Asian Kid looked up. He stuttered a minute, unsure, but the other boy was patient. Eventually he gave up forming a proper sentence and patted the table top pointedly.
"Sure, go ahead. It's free."
He gingerly sat down. The Asian Kid looked to be half-asleep, resting his chin on the table top.
Cam glanced around for a lunch tray or bag. He found none. "Forget?"
"Huh?" He cracked his eyes open and sat up. Cam gestured to his bag. "Oh. Yup."
He chuckled, watching the boy lay his head down once again. "La-zy."
"Nope. Just tired." He stretched. "I got caught up in a mystery book last night and didn't watch the clock."
Mystery books? Cam personally found them boring. But, seeing as the boy probably wouldn't understand his opinion even if he did use the dictionary (sentence structure, his worst enemy), he didn't answer. Instead, he pulled out the sandwich his mother had packed for him that morning, tore it in half, and trust it into the other boy's line of sight.
"I can have some?" He nodded. "Cool. Thanks." He grinned at him and took the half.
So far, so good.
For someone who seemed half-asleep, the boy certainly seemed bright. And curious. At one point, he'd even asked to borrow his dictionary for a second, and seemed to be honestly interested in reading random English/Spanish translations. Smart, but strange. But that was okay; he was the fun kind of strange.
But Cam wasn't really paying attention to him as he muttered horribly mispronounced Spanish words under his breath (with a Korean accent, even). His eyes were drawn to the oriental lunchbox currently being tossed around the jock table like a football.
Cam wasn't one hundred percent sure, but he was pretty sure that wasn't their lunchbox.
He tapped the red-head's shoulder. He glanced up. "Huh?"
Cam nodded at the lunch table. He turned, squinted, then shrugged, slinking downwards in his seat and leaning against the wall. "Oh. So that's who stole it. I'd wondered."
He puffed out his chest and balled his fists. The Asian Kid sat up. "Are you kidding? They're ten time's my size, easy." The boy quickly calmed himself, but Cam detected hints of irritation burning in his eyes. "Besides, the box isn't all that big a deal. Mom can always get me a new one."
He was just giving in. He wasn't even going to put up a proper fight.
And people said he was a coward.
The taller boy, easily interpreting his look like he'd been doing it for years instead of twenty minutes, shrugged heavily, face pinched. "Hey, it's not like it's a family heirloom or anything. I can get a new lunchbox at the gas station, for pete's sake."
Sure, he could get a new one, but it wouldn't be nearly as beautiful or as oriental as the one being tossed about like it was nothing. It would just be another ratty metal one with no sentimental value that was just like everyone else's.
He wouldn't stand for this.
Cam tersely got to his feet; back stiff, fists clenched. Asian Kid just blinked.
"Hey, it's your funeral. I'll back you up if things get violent, but..."
'We won't stand a chance.'
He didn't need to stand a chance to get his point across.
Gathering his courage (or lack thereof), Cam became more and more aware of his small stature as he stomped over to the jock table, filled to the brim with guys who were growing like weeds. The Asian Kid was half-up, half-down in his seat, watching carefully from a distance.
The entire table turned to glare at him as he came to a halt. Cam was suddenly hyper-aware of all of his shortcomings. Short, not bilingual at all (and the red-head still had his dictionary, the jerk), curly hair that easily gets tangled up in stuff, a weird style of dress. He felt like he was being picked apart by a bunch of guys with too much testosterone and too little brain power.
And he didn't like it.
He reached out his hand. "Give back."
The lead jock- Steve, he was pretty sure- laughed. "What was that? I couldn't understand a word you just said, dude!"
The table barked with laughter. Cam's cheeks reddened. Alright, so his English wasn't all that good just yet. He got that. But even he knew he was understandable- at least with small words like those.
"Give back." He grunted, jerking his hand forward.
"No habla espanol, Camilio." The jock grinned at him.
"Cam." Camilio was only for family. Camilio was only what he was called when he and his family were speaking rapid-fire Spanish to each other. Here at school, surrounded by people who only spoke a foreign language he was trying his darnedest to learn, he was just Cam. It was simpler that way.
"What, a camera? What about a camera?" Another called.
"Yeah, dude! What the heck?"
Cam's hands began to shake in irritation. He didn't really know what to say- what he could say. Anything he would normally say would come out unintelligible- or, worse, in Spanish.
A hand firmly set itself on his shoulder. The Asian Kid frowned at the jocks. "Leave him alone, guys."
The laughter stopped immediately. Steve stood up, towering over both of the foreign boys at their tender ages. He bent down to get in the red-head's face. "Who's gonna stop me?"
"Realistically? No one. But is a lunchbox really worth beating up two kids?"
Steve's eyes narrowed. "You just want your stupid lunch pail back."
"No, I want my friend and I to get through our day without being on the receiving end of a beating. Is that really so wrong?"
The tall boy sneered at him and turned to sit back down. Cam shot out and grabbed his arm. "Give back." He insisted.
"Cam." The boy hissed. Cam shook his head.
"Ugh, fine, whatever. Just get outta my face."
A jock chucked the lunchbox at him. It landed square in his stomach, knocking the breath out of him. The Asian Kid wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gently led him back to their table.
"Sorry about that. Steve's a jerk and everybody knows it." He paused. "But you already knew that. Duh. We just did this last week."
"Nuh-uh. Different. Pretty.. senorita." He wheezed.
"Yeah, I guess so." He shrugged. "I never really noticed." He fiddled with the handle on his lunchbox awkwardly. "Thanks."
Cam held out his hand. "Cam."
The Asian Kid took it. "Lee." He said, grinning. "And we really need to stop meeting like this."
Author's Note: I don't know why, but I have so much fun writing these two as kids. I started writing this forever ago, but I've only recently gotten around to finishing it. =)
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