-Daddy Winchester-
Chapter TWO: Fool Me Once, Shame on You
JW/SW
Numeracy was a subject that Sam wished never existed. It wasn't that he was terrible at it; in fact he was almost top of his class. Numeracy bothered him because it was one of the few classes he had to spend in the company of Mrs. Murphy. She was a middle-aged woman, pudgy around the middle with a large chest and flat brunette hair. She was nicknamed The Storm by most of her students, her quick temper was legendary, and more than one student had tasted the bile of her words.
It surprised Sam that she hadn't been sacked for some of the things students had reported her saying. He'd never gotten on with her, as much as he attempted to stay low and out of trouble she always found something to pull him up on.
Thankfully he only had numeracy twice a week.
Resisting the desire to sigh, Sam slumped down at his desk. He was early for class, only a few others were with him, slumped very much the same as he was in their seats, awaiting the moment Mrs. Murphy arrived.
The classroom door was elaborately opened with a smacking sound of metal against plaster and Sam startled in his seat, covering it up as a violent shiver once he noticed it was Brad Hawkins. It seemed his ignorance towards the other boy's entrance went down sour and Hawkins sauntered over to his desk, his beady eyes locked on Sam.
"Coming to class early, Winchester," he taunted in a sing-song voice that grabbed the classes' immediate attention. Sam wasn't in the mood and scowled up at the taller boy. "Trying to get on Murphy's good side?" chuckling Hawkins wiped the top of the desk, sending Sam's books and stationary to the floor with a clatter and flop. Hawkins' goons chuckled appreciatively at their leaders antics, which in turn made Sam narrowed his eyes with annoyance.
When Sam remained silent and didn't rise to the bait Hawkins kicked roughly at the desk leg. The small table skidded a few inches, upsetting Sam's slumped posture. He stood up, fully intending to say something awesomely witty, until Hawkins straightened his back and towered over Sam like an ominous stone building. Sam wasn't a coward by any stretch, but neither did he carry much bravado when he was out numbered and out-sized.
"What's the matter," jeered Hawkins, lifting his upper lip in a sneer, Sam grimaced at the boy's dirty front teeth. Hadn't he heard of a toothbrush? "Too chicken to have a go?" crossing his arms across his chest Hawkins chuckled, "why don't you sit back down like a good little teachers pet." The last straw came when Hawkins slapped him on the shoulder, as if he'd just given out some friendly advice.
"Why don't you fuck off?"
The words were falling from his tongue before he could self-censor. A few students tittered. Hawkins furrowed his eyebrows and his nostrils flared, it was the first warning sign Sam got. There was only two times a person's nose flared; when they were getting ready to flee, or when they were getting ready to fight. Judging by the rigid set of Hawkins shoulders Sam's bets were on the latter.
The second warning sign was the step the boy took towards him, he pitched his body forward and the little Winchester was well aware of what was coming next. When Hawkins threw back his arm and then brought a fist forward Sam was ready. He'd never fought before, but reflexes bent his knees until he was crouching on the cold linoleum floor, Hawkins stumbled for a moment and then righted himself.
Clearly embarrassed by his miss he kicked out at Sam, and this time Sam was lost on how to react. If he had been quicker on his feet he might have preformed a wild jump up as the kick when under him; but that fantasy died as soon as Hawkins boot landed square in his gut, winding him instantly.
Gasping for the air he'd lost, Sam fell forward, barely catching himself on his palms as he slumped over and coughed. He managed one shaky breath in before Hawkins kicked again, this time it got his side near his ribs, and pain flared down his torso, aching but sharp.
He thought he heard a girl shout out stop, but he was dazed from little oxygen.
Sitting on the floor with his head lolling forward and his stomach and side aching Sam repressed a groan, waiting for the next kick to come. The students were abnormally quiet and curiosity got the better of him. Lifting his head Sam looked around at the pale faces of his peers, it was only seconds later he noticed Mrs. Murphy standing in the doorway, a role-call folder held in one arm. She gazed at him fleetingly, her dark eyes seeming darker than usual.
Then she sniffed disdainfully and looked to Hawkins. "Finish up, Mr. Hawkins, and then we'll begin the lesson." Sam couldn't believe he was hearing such words spoken by a teacher. Did she not care that physical violence was strictly forbidden at the school? She swayed over to her large desk, her heels clapping on the ground. Hawkins was obviously shocked as well for he paused a moment before tentatively kicking Sam's leg, when Mrs. Murphy didn't say anything against it he gave one final, rough kick against Sam's hipbone.
Cursing under his breath Sam glared venom at the boy, watching him saunter over to an empty desk. No student dared speak up against Mrs. Murphy; they all sat down silently and ignored Sam as he staggered to his feet. A few pitying glances was all he got.
"Now," snapped the teacher crisply, a collective sound of students sitting straight in their seats went about the room, "all eyes on me for the next hour, we will be going over factions until you useless children understand." Given that the class had been working on fractions for the past week Sam could give any teacher slack to be annoyed. But Mrs. Murphy took it too far, she always did. "No calculators allowed, no cheating, and no talking. I'll hand out a worksheet and I want it completed in fifteen minutes."
Sam bowed his head and prayed he could make it through the lesson without being singled out. He'd already made a fool of himself with Hawkins – not that such an event was uncommon. Most every day Hawkins picked on him, shoved him and generally belittled him in embarrassing ways.
JW/SW
The cafeteria was crowded by the time Sam managed to get there. He squeezed past numerous chattering groups of girls who insisted that standing in the doorway was the perfect spot to catch up on gossip. A few of them scowled at him for pushing his way through but he paid them no mind. His gut was sore and his ribs felt bruised. He'd gone all morning and early afternoon with the pain and was beginning to get short-tempered.
Grabbing a tray he lined up, thankfully the line was short and he was served quickly. The lady behind the counter frowned as she dished out the food, her forlorn mood made Sam feel worse and he slinked over to an empty table with a pout.
The day had definitely not been wonderful. The beat up he received being the worst thing to happen, but in general his classes had dragged on and it appeared many of the teachers suffered Mondayitis; they'd been harsh and gave out piles of homework.
Mashing up the pasta dish he'd been given Sam ignored the shadow that was cast over him. Hawkins shadow to be exact. He was not in the mood to deal with the bully twice in one day, and so he fitfully kept his eyes on his food. Such a gesture apparently riled Hawkins.
"Hey fuck-wit," he said loudly, probably gaining a few inquisitive stares from the hordes of students. Sam flicked his eyes up despondently, figuring it'd be worse for him if he ignored the boy much longer. "Came to give you something," Hawkins continued in his deep drawl, Sam's gaze was shifty.
"I don't want anything from you, thanks." It was the only reply Sam could think of, his brain was stuck like a broken record, going over the same word. Avoid! Avoid! He didn't want anymore trouble for the day. Hawkins leaned in closer and then smacked down a cup full of juice. A line of confusion creased between Sam's brows. "You brought me a drink?" he asked uncertainly. Hawkins nodded.
"Now drink it." Sam refused to. "Drink it or you get a black eye." The threat made him reconsider but he held his ground. He wasn't stupid. Quite clearly something had been put in the cup.
"I'm not thirsty, leave me alone."
Hawkins leaned closer, his gelled hair was pungent. "Take a fucking drink you Nancy-boy."
"Drink it yourself," so it wasn't the comeback of the year. It sufficed. Sam was all too aware of the stares they were receiving and shifted uncomfortably. He was thankful there were teachers around – nicer teachers than Mrs. Murphy – teachers that would help him out should Hawkins be so stupid as to hit him again.
Hawkins pursed his lips for a second and then abruptly stood up straight. Sam couldn't quite quell the flinch of his body. Hawkins noticed and grinned, "Fine, don't have a drink then. Can't force you," the boy paused thoughtfully, "at least not with everyone around." He amended. A chill lingered in Sam's spine once the teen had left with his juice cup and he shivered. He made a mental note to stay away from Hawkins and his goons for the rest of the school day.
His English teacher came over briefly during the remainder of the lunch break and asked if everything was alright with him and Hawkins. Having nothing to say he had nodded and assured her everything was okay. He didn't see the reason to go blab about the bully to the first person to show concern. He wasn't a preschooler; he could handle himself just fine.
At least that's what he told himself for the rest of the day as he slinked stealthily around corners like some ninja-spy and hid behind random students to avoid being spotted by Hawkins. He didn't dwell on the fact he was effectively not dealing with the situation and instead running from a confrontation that was eventually going to happen.
If he did his pride might have been shattered even more.
JW/SW
By the time the final bell rang to signal the end of the school day Sam was exhausted, mostly from nursing his injuries for the day, but also from avoiding Hawkins. He'd no doubt given the chance the boy would follow up on his words. And Sam didn't particularly want that to happen.
He was sitting in the speech and drama room, packing up his books. Most the class had rushed out of the classroom at the first resonance of the shrill bell. If Sam wasn't concerned about missing his bus back home he'd had lingered until most the students had left the school building. Less of a chance of running into Hawkins that way. As it was he had ten minutes until the bus left.
Collecting up his satchel Sam left the classroom and darted quickly down the wide hallway. He was almost to the exit doors when he spotted the shadow that was dogging his every move. It was larger than his own thin shadow and he shut his eyes tightly, hoping that if he wished hard enough the trailing Hawkins would disappear into a cloud of smoke. It wasn't so.
"Well, well," crooned Hawkins as he begun to circle Sam. It unnerved the slighter more than he'd ever admit. "I think we have some unfinished business to tie up, don't you?"
"Why," Sam began and his voice shot up a few octaves, he cleared his throat and tried again, "why are you doing this?" he asked. The question momentarily put Hawkins out. He frowned at Sam. "Why do you pick on me, out of everybody in this school?" it was a question he'd wanted answered for a long time.
Hawkins huffed a short laugh and rolled his eyes, "because you're a geek, because it's fun, because you don't fit in, because it's fun, because you have no friends, because you're too stubborn to tell on me, oh and did I mention it's fun?"
"You can't just tease someone because of those reasons; it'd be like if someone teased you because you gelled your hair into spikes." Which in Sam's opinion made him look like a wannabe boy-band member. He didn't say that bit out loud.
Hawkins bristled at the comment, "it's not the same fuck-wit and you know it. I'm the popular kid and you're not. You're low on the high school food chain; it's just the way it goes."
"You don't even know me!"
"Wouldn't want to know a fag." Retorted Hawkins with a sneer of his lips. Sam gave up trying to talk sense into the boy. Bobby had once said that the reason for people being idiots was because they had it bad themselves and so they took it out on others around them. Sam betted Hawkins life wasn't all smiles and sunshine. It didn't mean he wasn't about to hold a grudge on the boy for making his school life miserable.
They stood in silence for a moment and then suddenly Hawkins moved. He was quick considering his bulk and height and before Sam had time to employ any self-defense he was rammed up against the wall, squishing his satchel with his back. He whimpered involuntarily which made Hawkins chuckle.
"Let me go, Hawkins!" Sam shouted to counter his show of weakness; desperately he hoped a teacher would catch his words and come to investigate. Hawkins shushed him with an elbow to the ribs and Sam was prevented from doubling over by the boy's strength that held him flush to the wall. "Get off me." he gasped when the pain dulled.
"You forget already, you didn't drink the juice so now I'll rectify that." Pulling Sam away from the wall the taller teen dragged him bodily around the corner and into the boy's toilets. The smell of pine and citrus cleaner was overpowering. Sam struggled against the hold but got nowhere.
He was shoved forcefully to the ground. "Give me the bottle," Hawkins demanded, Sam looked up to see the two brothers who hanged out with Hawkins, both were dark haired and broad shouldered. They'd obviously been waiting in the toilets for Hawkins.
Great an ambush; just what he needed.
Sam got to his feet while the trio was busy fiddling with a simple soda bottle, he stumbled up against a cubicle door and it banged inward, making the three boys jump and advance on him quickly. He tried to run, really he did, but the exit was blocked and he was sore and tired. He didn't get three steps away before brother number one bear hugged him from behind, clamping his arms by his sides and lifting him easily off the ground as if he were some ninety pound girl.
"Let me down!"
"Shut up Winchester," the brother said, his chest rumbled with the words and he tightened his grip on the squirming boy in his arms. "Hurry up Brad, he's difficult to hold." Sam thrashed wildly even as Hawkins lifted the drink bottle to his lips and demanded he take a sip. It looked to be normal orange soda in the bottle.
"Oh for fucks sake, Jeff, get over here and hold his head for me." Brother number two moved away from the exit, swiftly he bunched a handful of Sam's hair in his fist and tugged on it painfully. Sam yelped, forgetting to keep his lips sealed and Hawkins took the moment to strike. In one quick movement he had poured the fizzy liquid into Sam's mouth and clumped his hand over the boy's lips to prevent him from spitting it out.
"'Hm 's 'tm?" Sam's words were muffled by the drink and hand and he had no hopes of making sense until he swallowed. Gritting his teeth he hoped that Hawkins hadn't put anything too nasty in the drink. With one loud swallow he downed the mouthful.
Only then did the hand allow him proper breath and freedom to talk. "What is it?" he asked once more. Hawkins shrugged while motioning for Jeff and his brother to let go of Sam. They did so, albeit roughly. The little Winchester sagged in relief against the wall of the cubicle.
"It's visine."
"What does it do?"
"You'll have to find that out on your own." Hawkins said with a toothy grin. He stepped closer to Sam, "have a good evening, fag." He jeered. Sam gasped in shock and hurt when the boy backhanded him quickly, leaving his right cheek throbbing and red.
"Come on let's get out of here, Brad." Sam watched blearily through misted eyes as the three students left, each one smiling at their cruel idea of fun. His ribs and tummy ached and added to his list of injuries was the stinging cheek and broken pride.
Hawkins had been right about one thing. He was stubborn and he wouldn't tell anyone what was happening, it's hurt too much to admit he'd been weak enough to get bullied. He was embarrassed and felt guilty. It was his fault Hawkins teased him.
Straightening up his satchel on his shoulder, Sam wrapped his arms protectively around his waist and left the toilets. He had missed his bus and would have to walk home. Not a fun prospect.
