They're Playing Our Song

“So, Parker,” I heard a smooth voice sneer behind me. A thin hand shot out and shut my locker door, the metal barely missing my face in its quick moving path. I gritted my teeth and rolled my eyes.

“Yah?” I said.

“Beat up anyone else lately? Perhaps someone your own size this time.”

“Not your most original, Gavin.” I sighed, turning to face him.

It was the Monday after my mom had called me out for my slipping grade-point average. The morning had passed in almost a fog. I couldn't pay attention to really anything. My brain was still chewing on everything she had said. The only thing I did remember was lunch, and that was because I got to spend more time with my best friend. No, not Mary, though she was a great friend that I was thankful for. I was thinking about Mr. Way. Somehow, though I will never really know how, he kept up that very important barrier between student and teacher. But still, I could tell that he had a fondness for me that I couldn't help but adore.

In the several weeks that I had been at that school we had achieved some kind of understanding. During lunch, eighth period, and a few minutes after class, we were as close as ever. At any other time of the day we were merely strangers. We never talked about this routine, it just sprang up in response to rumors. Oh, and there were many. Everyone in the art class believed whole heartedly that I was Mr. Way's new toy. When questioned we would deny any accusations. And the questions started to fade away. But the whispers didn't.

Something else that didn't fade away, much to my chagrin, was Gavin's constant annoyances. It seemed like if he had a chance to point out a flaw on my presence, he'd take it. Occasionally, he would let up on the jokes, but that was usually only when we worked on our math project. And even then he only remained quiet for a short period of time before he would criticize whatever I was doing. However annoying these little disturbances were, I didn't take them seriously. Sometimes, on the rare occasion he thought of something remotely clever, I'd chuckle along. The effect slowly wore off as the days went by. Soon, not even his goonie friends would take a shot at me. They left it for Gavin's sole enjoyment.

“So?” Gavin shot back defensively. “I'm not the one who took down a football player, butch.”

“Gavin, that was almost a month ago. Can you move on to something different? How about another crack at my hair?”

“Which looks stupid.”

“There it is!” I laughed quietly. The bell for seventh period rang in the distance, and I gave Gavin a tired glance. “Ready for math?”

“Sure.” he grunted quietly, giving me a small, cold nod.