Jake and I split up to go to our homerooms.
"See ya," he said. I waved and headed off. My first class was English which I was pretty good at. But that class, like a lot of my classes, was full of the rich kids, and they gave me looks like they thought I was scum.
At my locker I was getting my stuff for my first class when I heard a cultured voice slice through my thoughts.
"I'm gonna kick your ass you welfare piece of shit,"
I froze. As I said, I was 13 but in ninth grade because I got moved up a year. So I wasn't the biggest kid in the school. Jake was small, too, and though I'd never been beaten up by any of those Bedford Hill swanky bastards, Jake has, and it wasn't pretty.
I shut my locker door and behind it saw the crazy grinning face of Tim McEntyre, a 17 year old nut who lived a few buildings away from Jake and me.
"Shit, Tim, what are you trying to do? Give me a heart attack?"
He laughed his hyeana laugh, pretty soon he was clutching his sides he got such a big kick out of himself.
"Paul…" he started to say, but had to take a break for laughing, "Paul…you shoulda seen your face…" Tears in his eyes he was laughing so hard. I had to smile. Tim was harmless. At least he was comic relief. It kinda balanced out Jake, who was so solemn and serious and a nervous wreck.
"Well, I don't know about you, but I have a class to go to," I said with mock sternness. Tim ignored that.
"Look," he said in a stage whisper. He wore one of those pea colored army fatigue coats with a million buckles and pockets. In the inside pocket he lifted a bottle of Wild Turkey. My eyes widened and he laughed again.
"What'dya think of that?" he said, grinning.
"I think you're crazy. You're gonna get caught,"
He shrugged. He honestly didn't care. I envied that in him and wished I didn't have to care all the time. It gave me headaches and nightmares. Jake was a pretty obvious mess, so jumpy and nervous all the time, but I was a secret mess. I hid it better, that's all.
So off to class. I ignored the Bedford Hill kids giving me that superior stare. Screw them.
"We're going to read a novel," the teacher said, handing out a stack of slim paperbacks. The girl in front of me was real pretty. She had long red hair, she was a cheerleader, and she was a Bedford Hill resident, of course. I liked the way the light looked on her hair, how it made it look redder, almost on fire. She handed me the stack of books and smiled with her white, even teeth. I smiled back but it felt awkward. What would a rich beautiful girl like that want with a poor young kid like me? Her name was Cheryl Vincent. I bet she didn't even know my name.
The book the teacher passed out was "The Outsiders" and I could tell it would only take me a night or two to finish it. I read like a fiend. I thought it was part of the reason people thought I was so smart. It wasn't that I was all that smart, I just read constantly so I knew shit they didn't.
A/N: Thank you to those who reviewed. If you haven't, please do so I can improve with this…tell me what you think:)
Hahukum Konn: Thank you so much for your review! And thanks for the tip on the cars. I don't know that much about cars but figured I'd throw a Mustang in to link with the book. D
Ale Curtis Carter: Thanks for the review, glad you like it. You know, I thought I may have overused bastard. I just really like that word. #shrug# I'll tone it down, though…see how it goes. ;D