Hi again! Wow, five reviews? I about fell over. I think I'm going to have a hard time getting through door now, my ego is so inflated. Your reviews, coupled with our relative success in my personal first Knowledge Bowl match today (we lost, but it was by a 110 point margin instead of 225 like last time…) have made me positively giddy, and as my friends know, I write some of my best stuff when I'm giddy. So here's a bit more. This one is a bit longer, I got carried away with myself…
onlyonceinforever- I'm going to hold you to that, got it? And for the record: yes; Spencer was, in fact, wearing a little lab coat. Standard safety procedure, you understand… An adorable little chibi-Spencer lab coat! –chibi grin-
A girl muses on the high school's youngest student at the pep rally.
The Cougars were undefeated last year. This year, they are undefeated so far. The entire school is fired up for the homecoming game. Everybody, excepting one, was cheering at the pep rally.
In the corner of the stand at the far end of the gym, my lab partner sits, nose buried in some book. He glances up occasionally to take in the blue and gold clad student body before returning to his thick book. A closer look confirms my initial thought, he's re-reading his AP psychology textbook. I roll my eyes before focusing back on the task at hand.
The familiar chant rolls off my tongue as I grin widely, waving a pair of pom-poms about enthusiastically. As head of the Varsity Cheer squad, I'm the one who everybody is watching. Everybody, of course, except Spence.
I steal another glance at him. There's at least a three person space in front and to his side, as if everybody around him were afraid to catch something. I look up at the writhing mass of bodies in front of me. I move back to spot Stacy as she climbs to the top of the pyramid.
Before I really recognize it, our routine is finished. The crowd erupts in cheers and I wonder how Spencer can possibly read in this noise. The kid is going to give himself a headache! I briefly wonder if I should slip him some aspirin after the rally, but common sense told me that he would probably be paranoid and think I was giving him some hard drugs.
It's time for the best part of the pep rally; the seniors draw names and we get to watch four students make fools of themselves for a minor prize, usually a teacher-donated pot of around 50 bucks or a CD player or something like that. I listen absently, cheering as the foreign exchange student is called down. The exchange student always is picked to play, of course. Next, a bubbly sophomore is called, she bounces down the bleachers excitedly. One of the school's more gothic-looking students is called, and he rolls his eyes before descending the bleachers as if he's doing us some huge favor by gracing us with his presence.
Then, there's a deafening quiet. And whispers. Then some shouting. I glance up to see Spencer turning red as the guys around him slap him on the back in a mocking show of companionship and support. He slowly comes down, knowing it's useless to protest, anyone who refuses to come down usually gets some sort of punishment, such as being doused in Gatorade or something similar.
I feel my chest clench as I watch him come down. His head is hung almost ashamedly. He joins the students at the front. The rest of the school has collapsed back into its usual cacophonic din. Mike has to nearly scream into the microphone to be heard over the crowd, but everyone knew the game anyway. You had to dig around in a whip-cream filled pie plate to find the bubblegum and then you had to blow a bubble.
Spencer looked down at his pie tin dubiously as his hands were tied behind his back with a pink handkerchief. Samantha, one of my friends, waves a black and white checkered flag and three of the four 'contestants' dive into their plates, searching for the gum. Spencer leans over carefully and stares at the whipped cream for a moment before digging in like the rest of the students.
The gothic boy straightens up, the gum obviously in his mouth. He chews quickly and blows a bubble, pumping his arms in the air. Spencer apparently doesn't realize he's beaten and continues to search for the gum. Laughter rings out through the gymnasium and he finally lifts his head to find more than half of the student body laughing and pointing. Someone throws a small hand towel at him and he wipes off his face slowly.
The thought runs through my head that I have no idea how he can stay so composed. The jeering dies down a bit as the gothic boy is awarded the miniature plastic trophy with a couple of fives rolled up and tucked in it. He holds it up, smirking, and makes his way back to his friends. The bubbly sophomore hugs him, Hiroke, and then dashes back towards her friends. The quarterback gives Hiroke a hearty slap on the back before Hiroke goes back to sitting with the soccer team. Only Spence remains, somewhat forgotten. He runs towards the double doors, unnoticed except by the teacher he nearly knocks down and myself.
I fight the urge to go after him, to comfort him and hold him close until his tears run out, but I stay, grinning like a maniac at the crowd.
Almost a half an hour later, the band begins playing again, a final, rousing chorus of the infamous Queen song 'We Will Rock You'. They repeat the chorus several times before the busses arrive to take those who are going home away. The teachers break the pep rally up and everyone goes their separate ways, talking, cheering and laughing.
"What an idiot! You have to wonder if he really is that smart." I hear, many times over, from students all around me. My heart pounds in my throat, where a lump is forming. My eyes burn with pity for the boy.
I walk along a back hallway, looking for Mrs. Fisher to hand in my essay, forcing my own tears back. I hear a sniffle from next to the water fountain. From behind it, I see a pair of black, high-end loafers, connected to legs that are covered in neat black slacks. I know that if I were to move forward and see the torso of the body, it would be wearing a dark-blue and green striped polo and be topped with a light-brunette head.
Instead, I stopped; I turned and walked softly away, my own tears finally coming to the surface.