Rebel at Spruce High

I realize I’m trembling. I try to calm my nerves. “I … I was just worried,” I explain, a touch less frantic. “I hope it went okay.”

An unbearably long moment passes. Vann shuts his notebook. “The cup was supposed to hit Hoyt’s face. Not yours.”

My pulse is in my ears. “It’s okay. It was tasty for a second,” I assure him, going for humor. He doesn’t laugh. I trade that train of thought for a more honest one. “I … know it was meant for Hoyt.”

He turns his head halfway towards me, but keeps his eyes on his own hands. “And the principal was alright. I’m not in trouble, nothing for you to worry about.”

“Oh. That’s … That’s really good. I was worried he’d—”

But Vann barely hears the words before he’s off his stool and heading toward the sunlight, vanishing. I sit there at the table until I’m the last one left in the room, even Mr. Schubert having stepped outside to chat with a teacher across the wooden pathway from him. I peer down at my notebook—only one page covered in a bunch of unintelligible gibberish—before shutting it.

The air outside is thick and stifling as I head back to the main building. Once through its doors, the air is then frigid, and by the time I deposit my things in my locker and make it to the gym for my dreaded fourth period PE, I’m shivering. I can’t tell if it’s on account of my nerves or the temperature when I walk the narrow aisles in the locker room toward my locker to change. Vann is using the same locker as before, right next to mine. He is already completely changed when I arrive, now sitting on the bench and tying his shoes. I peel my eyes off of him and, with determination, begin changing. The locker room fills with loud chatter—including Benji’s familiar guffawing from its other end and some boisterous and hilarious story Hoyt is telling—while I pull on my annoyingly small gym shorts.

Then, feeling a presence, I turn my face.

For one split second, I catch Vann looking at my waist before, in an instant, he’s back to tying his shoe.

Wait. Did I just imagine that?

Suddenly, Vann’s off the bench and down the aisle, heading to the gym. I watch him and his broad, tapered back, his long legs carrying him away and leaving me standing there in wonder.

Coach Larry starts us off with a round of stretches followed by a couple of laps. I keep against the perimeter of the gymnasium as I jog, noting that Hoyt, Benji, and Julio seem to be in their own world today, talking to each other and paying me little to no mind. I find myself more suspicious than comforted by their behavior. Are they really so bored of me already after yesterday’s incident?

I peer over my shoulder. That’s when I notice Vann trailing behind me some distance. He isn’t looking my way, but he seems to be keeping perfect pace with me, jogging at my same speed. Is that deliberate? I ask myself. He isn’t watching over me or something, is he? Like some kind of bodyguard …?

I decide that’s ridiculous and toss away the notion entirely.

But it doesn’t stop said notion from nagging me the rest of the period, all the way to the bell.

The locker room is louder than before as we change back into our regular clothes. Vann keeps his back to me the whole time. I frown at him in thought after taking off my shirt, wondering why he’s so damned moody all the time. Doesn’t the guy ever smile? I bet he has a cute smile, hidden somewhere in that clouded face of his. I wonder if he has dimples. Or if his smile makes his dark eyes sparkle, revealing a more sensitive soul buried inside him.

Once changed, he sweeps right past me, casting a gust of cool air over my sweaty, shirtless torso. I watch him go, likely on his way to the cafeteria where I’ll be headed soon. I’m lost in thought as I absently grab my shirt, slip it over my head and pull it down, the sweat on my body causing the shirt to stick in places and fight me. The more thoughts I have of Vann, the deeper my heart beats.

“Hey there, best buddy.”

I thought the locker room was cleared out. When I turn, I find Hoyt, alone, leaning against Vann’s locker with a smug expression.

I shut my locker. “Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it,” I tell him right away, then turn to go.

“Hey, why you gotta go treatin’ me, your best pal, like that?” he taunts me. “C’mon. Hey, you forgot something.”

I stop, then realize I didn’t put my shoes back on, distracted as I was by Hoyt’s sudden appearance. Red-faced, I turn back around. He holds my shoes up like a trophy, wiggling them in the air with an amused look on his face.