Obie was not very good at pretending that he wasn't bored out of his mind. Archie had noted that he wasn't particularly good at pretending in general. The other boy had draped himself over Archie's desk chair and was idly moving himself back and forth with one foot. Clearly The Great Gatsby was not enough entertainment for him.

Archie smiled at the thought that he was getting on Obie's nerves. "So, Obie, do you understand the symbolism behind Gatsby's green light?"

Obie used his foot to propel himself into spinning around on the chair. "It represents forbidden desire, and how, uh, volatile that is."

"Yes, and compared to the mass of solid riches Gatsby acquires, it's certainly volatile, but which does he want more?"

Obie looked at him blankly. "You know, I never got the point of this book. It's like, just be satisfied with what you have for Christ's sake. You don't need the girl of your dreams and a giant mansion and a load of power."

"Answer my question."

"He wants the girl who lives by the green light. She doesn't seem too great anyways. Kinda dumb. And her husband's a prick." Obie made a circuit in the spinning desk chair again, and Archie made a mental note to tell him to sit somewhere else next time. If there was a next time. Of course there would be a next time. If Archie wanted a next time, there would be a next time.

"Ah, see, that's the thing, she isn't. Gatsby's standards become void when he sees this girl again. He forgets all about how how tasteless she really is because he loves her. He ignores how stupid and fickle she can be and only notices the good parts. Stupid of him, really."

"Yeah. I mean..." Obie trailed off.

"It's a bit like how I feel about you."

"You're obsessed with the American dream?!"

Archie rolled his eyes. "No, idiot. I'm ignoring the fact that you have the intelligence of a bar of soap and just about the same amount of class and instead looking at your redeeming qualities and choosing to spend my time on you."

Obie looked mildly offended. "Since when is your time so precious, huh? What makes you any better than me?" He pulled himself up lazily from the desk chair and strode over to Archie. "That's your problem. You actually think everybody gives a shit about your opinion. I'm going home, I think I know enough about Gatsby and his stupid house and his stupid girl." Obie slung his bag over his shoulders and started downstairs.

"Fine, see if I care. Do whatever you'd like, Obie. It's all about you." Archie straightened himself in his sitting position on his bed and began to laugh. Because Obie was kidding himself, Obie needed the help and wanted the friendship. Gullible kids like Obie were what middle school was all about. They were the kids who ended up either being beaten up or at the feet of smarter, more popular kids.

And that would most certainly be the case with Obie. Archie picked up the school directory from his desk and flipped through it a bit and scanned the names. People would tell you not to judge books by their covers, but you could just tell who was a dumb thug and who was a nerd from their names and addresses.

He smiled down at the book and moved into his father's office, where the phone was. This was going to work just fine. He punched in the number of the first boy he saw who would fit in the 'dumb thug' category. The tone was short and monotonous.

"Who's this?" The voice was rough and, as Archie had expected, sounded quite stupid.

"Do you know Obie Harrison?" Archie kept his sentences short and punctual. The stupid ones needed that.

"Yeah." The boy on the line appeared to be racking his brain. "Yeah, I know him. What about him?"

"I'd like you to beat him up on the way home. You do know where he lives, don't you?"

"What, why? And yeah, I know his house. We're on the basketball team together. But why d'you want me to beat him up? Kid do something to you?"

Archie snorted. "No, on the contrary. Just do it. You don't like him very much, is that right?" It was only a matter of time before the other boy thought to ask who the hell it was on the line, so thought that he the conversation should probably end quickly.

"He's alright, I guess."

"No, no. You hate Obie Harrison. Remember when he was given credit for shooting that basket that wouldn't have been possible without you?" Educated guessing. But it was common enough in basketball.

"Well, yeah...Okay, I'll beat him up, but what's in it for me?"

"There will be fifty dollars in your locker tomorrow." Archie smiled. "Now go do as you're told." He hung up quickly and then ran downstairs to go put on his coat. He was going to make Obie Harrison like him, and not just like him, but follow him around like a dog.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle for the most part, and Archie felt it safe to jog, because Obie was most likely halfway home by now and the boy whose name he hadn't even cared to remember was most likely a few steps behind him, judging by his address. He, as usual, ran all the red lights because no one was coming anyways, and accidentally-or perhaps not-tripped a few old women on his way.

Sure enough, about halfway to his house, Obie was being pummeled by a larger boy who looked more like he should have been on the football team than the basketball team. Beautiful. Just beautiful.

Archie broke into a run and before the football-player-turned-basketball-player could get in another punch, he hit him square in the jaw. Archie was no fighter by any standard, no matter how hard he hit he was still tiny and not particularly impressive, but the hit at least made the other boy stagger back. He realized that he did, in fact, recognize him.

"Alright, Carter, I'm going to count to four and if you aren't gone by then, I'll tell your family that you lost that game that you bragged to them that you won."

"How the hell are you gonna do that?!"

"I have my ways."

Carter looked irritated. "Fine, okay. I don't give a shit about Harrison anyways. Terrible player and probably a shitty person."

"That's the spirit. Now run along." Carter did as he was told.

Obie looked up at him somewhat pitifully. His basketball teammate had been dutiful enough to give him a bloody nose as well as a few bruises. "Oh, Obie," Archie said with mock compassion. With anyone else, he'd have to try a little harder, but Obie seemed to believe him with only a little bit of bad acting. "I had no idea you were this disliked by your peers."

"I-I'm not." He got up, wiping his nose on the sleeve of his sweatshirt. The green fabric was stained a maroon color after the action.

"Come here. I'll help." Obie staggered over to Archie, who wrapped an arm around his shoulders. The other boy was surprisingly bony, not muscular as he'd first expected. "I'll walk you home. Really terrible that someone would do that to you without provocation, isn't it? People are cruel, Obie."

Obie practically collapsed his weight on Archie's shoulder. "I don't even know that Carter. I mean, he's a ball-hog, but, other than that...fuck, my leg hurts."

"Don't talk. Your house isn't far, is it?"

"Nah. Thanks, actually. I mean, for punching Carter and threatening him and all. You're a bastard, but thanks anyways."

Beautiful.

i've forgotten how much i like this story