Time Lifts the Light

The incident with Mr. Cross had been swept under the rug. I had expected there to be some sort of stony awkwardness between D.B. and the teacher the following day, but there was only the typical eye-rolling and tsk tsk-ing.

I was putting my books and binders back inside my locker. The linoleum of the halls smelled like wax and floor polish. My fellow students were restless and ready to go home; shouting to each other about parties this weekend, gossiping and shooting furtive glances at victims, holding cell phones up to their noses and reading the latest text.

"Travis!" I heard a girl's voice call. "Travis!"

I turned, quickly looking over my shoulder. I saw a large, house of a boy smiling cockily in the middle of the hallway.

"Chelsea!" Travis cried and reached out toward the petite girl, pulling her into his side. She had dark hair and strange, squinty-looking eyes. Her large breasts tumbled out of her button up shirt, and something told me that her school-issued skirt was not supposed to be that short.

"Good luck on Saturday, T-Bone!" a blonde boy whooped as he walked past the couple. "Crush the Panthers!"

Travis grinned and slapped his fair-haired friend an aggressive high-five. He pushed his dull brown hair up out of his face with a casual flick that he, undoubtedly, thought was quite attractive. Chelsea, the girl at his side swooned in such a giggly, high-pitched manner that I found myself wanting to vomit.

I turned back to my locker and packed up my book bag. It seemed as if I could move away to as many schools as I wanted; I would still never get away from the "Travis"s and the "Chelsea"s.

I saw D.B. shuffling through the crowd at the opposite end of the hallway. His iPod headphones were in his ears and he was silently mouthing the lyrics to a song as he weaved his way through the throng of packed bodies. ("S'cuse me. Sorry. S'cuse me. Sorry. Move.") He was wearing his odd black hat - the knitted one, with the ear-flaps. If anyone else wore it, they would have looked ridiculous. He pulled it off, somehow.

D.B. caught Travis's attention, too. He shook Chelsea off of him and cupped his hands around his mouth.

"Hey, Hawkins!" he called out.

D.B. couldn't hear him. He was bobbing his head, still listening to his iPod.

Travis grabbed D.B.'s shoulder as he walked past. D.B. was startled. He jumped and snatched his headphones out of his ears.

"What?" he barked, stepping back and trying to push Travis's hand off him. "Get off me, jockstrap."
"Aren't you going to wish me luck, Hawkins?" Travis asked, referring to the upcoming football game on a Saturday and refusing to relinquish his iron grip on D.B.'s shoulder.
"Wish you luck on what?"
"Oh, I think you know. And I'm not letting you go home until you say it. Come on, D.B. Say it loud enough so that everyone can hear."

D.B. laughed at the attempt to insult him. He was trying to remain cool, but he knew as well as I did that Travis could easily hurt him. It wasn't like he'd be punished for the crime - not before the big game.

Chelsea was acting rather odd. She was clinging to Travis's shirt, bunching the fabric up in her hands. She kept looking at D.B. through her lashes with low-lidded eyes, and then narrowing them into sharp slits. She'd quickly look up at Travis, then slide her gaze to the floor. It took me a second to realize that she was torn; she wanted desperately to flirt with D.B., but she was afraid that her boyfriend would see her making eyes.

"What's the matter, Chelsea?" D.B. asked her in mock politeness. "Did you stand too close to the microwave again?"

Travis didn't take kindly to this. Something steely flicked through his face and he tightened his grip on D.B.'s shoulder.

"Nice hat, Holden Caulfield(1)," he commented pulling it down to cover his face. "Your mommy knit it for you?"
D.B. furiously pushed his hat back up over his eyes. "So you SparkNoted the summer reading project, huh? Cute."

Travis let out a huff of air and smiled ghoulishly.

"We're playing the reference game then, are we?" D.B. managed to look quite menacing, despite being considerably smaller than the other boy. "Look, Flash Thompson,(2) as much as I enjoy our enlightening encounters, I've got to get going."
"I'm not done with you yet, you little twerp."
"Twerp? You're loosing your touch, you great slobbering meat-head."
Travis laughed cruelly. "You're such a girl, Hawkins."
"Ah, I see. Slobbering meat-head not good enough for you?" D.B. cocked his head to the side. "No problem. I can go Shakespearean."

The halls were much quieter now. Heads were turned and people were whispering. It seemed that Travis and D.B. had something going on that was akin to - and as famous as - the situation with Mr. Cross. Constant, unwavering, mutual hatred.

"Swim with leeches thou logger-headed nit."
Travis laughed again, in the same condescending manner as before. But, this time, I could detect a sense of pain and distress underneath the practiced indifference.
"Rank, urchin-snouted clotpole."

Despite not knowing what any of D.B.'s insults actually meant, Travis was hurt. He scowled so hard that I thought his face might break. Chelsea gripped Travis's arm and stomped one dainty foot that, I suppose, would have looked mildly threatening if she hadn't opened her mouth to whine:

"God, you're such a freak! Beat him up or something, baby."
"Not so fast, O Empress of Smut," D.B. sighed lazily. "Tell your boyfriend, Andrew Clark(3) over there, that I'm getting bored of this conversation. It's tedious and cliche. I'm going to walk away before he tries to tape my butt cheeks together."

He spun on his heel, ignoring Travis when he stepped forward and smacked the back of his head. He walked stiffly over to my locker, leaning against the cool metal with his face burning a deep red.

"Let's go," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Let's go before I snap."

I threw my backpack over my shoulders and he walked by my side as we maneuvered through the crowded halls. People were staring - and not too kindly.

Travis was the football hero. Travis was the one who was going to carry the team into the semi-finals this weekend. Travis was the most popular guy at James Monroe High. D.B. Hawkins, on the other hand, was just that cynical kid who never followed the dress code.

He squeezed my wrist as we walked, ignoring the heated glares. His face was still fiery red and I could see he ached to turn back and cause Travis a tidal wave of bodily harm. His hands actually shook.

"You okay?" I finally asked him quietly as we climbed into his car and waited for Mikey and Kim.

He was silent. Tense.

"Daniel?"
"Fine," he said, a little sharper than he'd meant to.
"D.B., it's okay if - "
"I'm fine."
"Those things they said, the way people were staring... It's normal if you feel - "
"Drop it." He scowled, swallowing thickly. "Mr. Cross. Travis Geller. I'm used to them."
"But you shouldn't have to be! You could tell someone! You could report - "
"Indigo, come on," he sighed, worn out.

I fell silent, nodding once. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat and couldn't help but laugh slightly. D.B.'s head whipped around, as if afraid that I was laughing at him. When he saw my small smile, he leaned forward.

"What?" he pressed.
"Well. I was just thinking... You slaughtered him."
"Yeah?" He brightened considerably.
"Definitely. Logger-headed nit... Brilliant."

He turned away to hide his smile. Kim and Mikey piled into the car, chattering.

"...and you wore the red one, but I like the blue one better."
"You only like the blue dress because it's tighter on me, Mike."
"So?"

It was only a matter of time before we were headed home. Kim was being her usual standoffish self, and Mikey was groaning at all the things I still had yet to do in Colorado.

"You've eaten shaved ice from Beanie's Sno-Cone stand at Magnolia Park, though, haven't you?" He spoke in a hushed, reverent tone, as if he was speaking sacred words.
"Nope," I replied, enjoying the look of horror on his face. "Never even been to Magno-whatsit."
"You haven't been to Magnolia Park?" he cried, running his hands through his shaggy hair in anxiety. "I can't believe you haven't been to Magnolia Park! D.B.! Indy's never been to-"
"Magnolia Park," D.B. finished for him, grinning coolly. "So I've heard."
"Well..." Mikey puffed. "We've got to take her!"

"What about it, Indy?" D.B. asked. "How about we take you this weekend? You wanna?"

(They had recently started calling me Indy without my permission. I didn't exactly mind... It was as if I was being made a part of their group.)

"Don't be stupid, D.B.," Kim snorted. "Little Miss Hutchinson will be studying again."

Well, almost a part of their group.

"Be nice, Kimmy," Mikey told her offhandedly. "Please say you'll do it!" he moaned, violently shaking the headrest on my seat. "Magnolia Park is awesome!"
"I mean, she's so far behind everyone else," Kim said nastily, and then pretended to stop and gasp. "Oops! Sorry! Well, I only said it because you did come in three weeks late and all..."

I could feel myself swell with frustration. My ears went pink and I could feel my heart thudding dully in my stomach. Kim loved to tease people because she was good at pinpointing their insecurities. She'd made Samantha Piper cry last week just by muttering, "Eyebrows..." as she passed her in the hall. It was not uncommon for her to reduce other girls to tears with a steely stare or a few choice words.

"Be nice, Kim," D.B. growled from the front seat. He took a wild right-hand turn, his anger making him drive a bit more recklessly than usual.
"Look at her!" Kim continued. "Perfect little shoes, perfect little clothes... We can't have her falling behind in her perfect little classes. I mean, what will perfect little Daddy say if-"
"Kim!" Everyone roared, including me.

Daniel had slammed on the brakes, throwing us all against our seat belts. He hastily began driving again, pretending that nothing had happened. I found that I was suddenly turned around in my seat, glaring fiercely at Kim. Something in D.B.'s face off with Travis spurred me on, gave me strength and inspiration.

"Your rude little comments are getting old," I found myself spitting. "This game your playing is not - I repeat: not - making me feel bad. It is only serving to annoy me and make you look like a bitch."

Mikey let out a low, "Oooh!" and pressed his knuckles to his mouth. D.B. nudged the gas, making the car go faster; as if to encourage me. Kim's mouth had fallen open slightly. She stared at me with wide eyes filled with a strange emotion that I couldn't read. Her mouth snapped shut, then fell open again. She looked like a goldfish.

"Budge over, Mike," she ordered, and accidentally (on purpose) elbowed into an inappropriate part of his body. He yelped and scrambled over to the other seat, squishing himself up against the door. He was taking wheezy breaths, his head down and his hands protectively clutching his crotch.

Kim got up on her knees and rested her chin on top of my head rest.

"I respect that," she told me fiercely. "Here I was thinking you were another one of the spineless, non-confrontational girls at our school." She said the word girl like one would say idiot. "But you stood up for yourself. I'm impressed."
"Oh..." I muttered, ignoring D.B.'s silent fit of laughter. "Thanks..."

Kim reached around my seat and pulled a strand of my wavy hair into a tight coil around her finger.

"You know what we should do?" she asked. Then, without waiting for a reply, she answered her own question. "We should straighten your hair! Then I could put some red dye on the ends!"
"I don't know if-"
"It would look so awesome!" She released the coil of hair. "There's a bad-ass underneath your soft exterior, I just know it."

I smiled quietly.

D.B. pulled the car roughly into park.

"Get outta my car, bipolar Betty," he ordered, half serious.
"Okay, okay," Kim grumbled, rolling her eyes and collecting her book bag.

She leaned over to kiss Mikey, who flinched.

"Think about that hair dye!" she hissed, poking my side as she kicked the car door open. She walked up to the front of her house and turned around to wave cheerily. "Call me if we're doing something tomorrow!"

D.B. drove off rather quickly.

"Mikey," he said cautiously. "No offense... But your girlfriend sort of scares me sometimes."
"Me, too," he whispered, as if he was afraid that Kim would hear him. "Me, too..."