Garfield hated middle school. Absolutely hated it. He had hated elementary school as well, but at least he had people who had to sit with him. Now, at Walker Middle School, you didn't have to sit with your classmates. Garfield sat by himself.
He was the new kid, the target of bullying and ridicule. When he was the new kid before, in first grade, the kids hadn't been so judgmental. And then Steve and Rita had moved him to this district at the end of fifth grade, claiming that it was simply a better school. They had no idea what a kick his social standing would take. Okay, so it wasn't super great at the old school, but at least people spoke to him.
Gar situated himself on the bench he usually sat during lunch, holding his sack of food. No one else sat over here, which is why he had chosen it. Kids still walked past him, but he wasn't in the direct line of sight of the main lunch tables. That's where the worst bullies were.
He crossed his legs and unfolded his somewhat crinkled lunch bag. Footsteps approached, and Gar glanced up. Three girls were coming toward him. His heart began to quicken. It was Tara, the cutest girl in his grade. She was standing in between her two friends, laughing about something. Her golden hair glimmered in the sunlight. Briefly, her eyes met Garfield's. He smiled and raised his hand.
Her friends saw and started laughing. Tara blushed and grimaced. One of the girls pointed at him and said something under her breath, setting off a new round of laughs. Tara rolled her eyes and began walking faster, passing Garfield and refusing to look in his direction again.
His hand lowered slowly. A familiar blush darkened his cheeks; the girls' laugh echoing in his ears. He brushed the hand over his hair in an attempt to cover the blunder up, but the damage was done. Tears threatened at the back of his eyes, but Gar bit his tongue and forced them away. He hated lunch.
Halfway through his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, Garfield became aware of a shadow falling over him. Briefly, he wondered if a cloud had covered the sun, and then the fumes of pubescent B.O. hit his nose. He sighed. "Hello, Adonis."
"Hello, nerd," the seventh-grader drawled. "Whatcha got for lunch?"
Garfield clenched his teeth, looking up at the older boy from beneath his eyebrows. "A sandwich." Without much warning, Adonis smacked the sandwich out of Gar's hands. It hit the pavement and splattered peanut butter everywhere. "Hey!" Gar squeaked.
"I don't like peanut butter," Adonis growled, shoving his face in Garfield's. The younger boy reared back – Adonis obviously hadn't brushed his teeth today. "What else?"
Suddenly, a red-hot burst of anger exploded in Garfield's chest. He clenched his fingers around the lunch bag and stood. He had hoped to come out taller, but he really only came to Adonis's chest. Little warning signs began to go off in his head, but he ignored them. "That doesn't matter, cuz you're not gettin' any!"
Adonis's nostrils flared in surprised anger. Obviously, no one had stood up to him before. "What was that, pipsqueak?" A few kids walking by had stopped to watch, calling over their friends. A small crowd began to form.
"I said, you're not gettin' any." He enunciated each word, spitting slightly as he did so. Adonis's cocky smile had turned into a sneer.
"I'll give you one last chance, dweeb," he snarled. The crowd had grown larger. Garfield could barely keep track of the words coming out of his mouth.
"Go pick on someone your own size, you ASS!" The crowd drew in a huge gasp at the forbidden word. A tiny voice at the back of Gar's head let him know that this had not been his best idea. Without much warning, he had been pushed roughly into the bench. Gar nearly collapsed over it, barely saving himself with his hands. As it turned out, he may not have saved himself, because then a huge fist came out of nowhere and slammed into his eye socket. Garfield saw stars, his head slamming against the brick wall behind the bench. Tears streamed out of the eye that had been hit; it was already beginning to swell.
He thought he heard yelling over the sound of his own uncontrollable sobs. Really, he had been hardly aware that he was crying, it had just sort of occurred. As soon as he realized it was happening, he attempted to stifle them. Crying in school? Could you say social suicide?
Someone helped him to his feet. Next thing he knew, he was in the nurse's office, an ice pack being applied to his face. His thoughts were sort of swimming in and out of his head like finicky goldfish. He was dimly aware of the fact that he didn't get to finish his lunch.
As it turned out, Adonis had gotten suspended after a teacher had pulled him off of the crying sixth-grader. Garfield was sent home after his guardians were called, still holding an ice pack to his face and wanting to die.
The next day, he didn't get out of bed the first time Rita called. Instead, he curled on his side, fingers poking tenderly at the blackened flesh around his eye. He didn't get up when Steve called, either. In fact, he had been lying in bed for fifteen minutes before his adopted mother actually came in.
"Garfield, sweetheart, you're going to be late for school."
Gar grimaced. "I don't wanna go to school today."
Rita was quiet for a second. Then he heard the ladder to his top bunk creak. He groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. His adopted mother sat down at the end of his bed, moving aside a stuffed tiger that he couldn't bring himself to get rid of. "Gar," she said, tugging lightly at the blanket. "Sweetheart." Garfield refused to yield his blanket shield. Rita sighed. "Why don't you want to go to school today, honey?"
"I don't fit in," he grumbled. "I never have and I never will. No one likes me."
"Of course people like you, darling." Rita said softly. "Are you just upset over the fight?"
Garfield shook his head. Then he remembered that she couldn't see him. "No. But that's my point, ma. No one wanted to help me. They all just watched him beat me up."
Rita was quiet. Mildly curious, Garfield poked his head above the covers. She was staring at him, a very serious, sad expression on her face. He'd seen it before. A lot, actually. Mostly at the beginning, after his parents died. It was pity.
"I just know you'll make friends, Garfield," Rita murmured. "But you have to try." He agreed, albeit hesitantly, to go to school after that.
When the bell rang for lunch, Gar prepared for the worst. He had been getting stares all day at his stupid black eye. Even with Adonis suspended, his friends still made rude remarks when the teacher was out of earshot. It was just as awful as Gar knew it would be.
He sat at his usual spot, pulling up a new paper lunch bag. It took him nearly three minutes to notice that the bench next to his was occupied. There was a girl there, his age. She was wearing a black jacket with the hood up, even though it was a sunny day. Gar didn't recognize her. Tips of her black hair poked out from her hood. Her deep blue eyes were focused on the lunch in front of her, situated neatly in a green lunch box.
He must have been staring, because she turned toward him slightly, looking uncomfortable. "Um, can I help you?"
"Uh." He struggled to find his tongue. She was easily one of the cutest girls he had ever seen. Almost as pretty as Tara Markov. "Uhm."
The girl raised an eyebrow. "Something wrong?"
Garfield blinked rapidly. "What? Oh! No! I've just, uh, never seen anyone over here before. Like, for lunch."
The girl bit her lip and looked down at her lunch box. It was the color of celery. "That's probably because I'm new. I didn't know this was reserved. I can…go, I guess." She snapped her lunch box shut and stood.
"No, no, no, wait!" Garfield almost tossed his lunch to the ground he moved so fast. He blushed at her mildly scared expression. "I mean, you can sit there. It's…uh…not taken." He grabbed his sandwich and took a huge, nervous bite. He was most likely the color of a tomato. The girl sat back down.
"My name's Garfield," Gar said around chunks of peanut butter. "But you can call me Gar. Or Garfield. Or whatever, ya know? I just…uh, yeah."
She blinked slowly. "I'm Rachel. Why do you have a black eye?"
Garfield rubbed the back of his head. "I…er…got in a fight. Uh...you should see the other guy!" He laughed slightly. Hopefully she hadn't already heard about his inglorious defeat the day before.
To his surprise, she laughed. It was a small, pretty laugh. It made her eyes squint and his heart jump into his throat.
"You're kinda funny." She smiled.
Garfield's stomach flipped. "You really think so? Really?"
Rachel blushed and cleared her throat, the smile leaving her face. "Yeah, sure."
Garfield took another bite of his sandwich, this time happily. When the lunch bell rang, signaling a return to class, the two stood and looked at each other.
"So, uhm," Gar paused, scuffing the heel of his sneaker against the ground, "do ya wanna sit over here tomorrow? I mean, you don't have to. I just thought that maybe –"
She cut him off. "I would like to sit over here tomorrow, Garfield," she said softly. The smile pulled at her lips again. It made Gar feel like his body was full of firecrackers.
Lunch had managed to turn into his least favorite to his favorite forty-five minutes because of one girl's smile.
…
A/N – Hello my dears. If you liked this, I suggest checking out one of my older fics: The Freak Club. Hope you liked it, let me know your thoughts!