When Ropes Are Wrapped Around Your Limbs

Thankfully, I didn't see the two new kids from math until after lunch. Me and Frank were standing outside the school gates, smoking, when I heard voices coming from down the pavement.

“Hey Maxxy, it's your friends from this morning,” Frank teased, registering over my shoulder who the voices belonged to. This was quite an achievement for Frank, seeing as he was barely five foot five. I glanced around, groaning as soon as I saw them. It was the Brit kid, the tall one and...a guy who I recognised from last year, but couldn't place.

“Alright guys? Come chill with us!” Frank yelled, more to piss me off than to actually be friendly. I gave him a death glare as the guys reached us.

“Hey...I know you from last year,” the guy I'd recognised said to me. “Max, right?”

“Yeah, and this is Frank,” I replied. “You're Michael, aren't you? Michael Way?” The guy nodded, grimacing slightly.

“Just call me Mikey, 'Michael' sounds really pretentious. Oh, and this is Ronnie -” he motioned to the taller boy with the nose ring, “- and Oli with an I.”

“Don't say it like that, yeh make it sound gay,” Oli with an I protested. “We saw yeh in maths class this mornin' mate, Ronnie says yeh don't like us.”

“Max doesn't really like emo kids in general,” Frank smirked, digging me in even deeper.

“We're not fuckin emos', dude,” Ronnie protested. Oli immediately stepped in to back him up.

“Yeah, screw you guys, we're not emo kids. Well, except for maybe Mikey, in his Joy Division t-shirt.”

“Yeah dude, totally,” Ronnie agreed. “All the fucked up lyrical angst and torment...”

“The pain, cheating on his wife, doing drugs and shit...”

“We should go back in,” I muttered to Frank. “I got football next.”

“...and – whoa, dude, American football's shite,” Oli suddenly switched topic, mid sentence. “Yer not leavin' us are yeh?”

“God Oli, they're fuckin sick of you, give it a rest already,” Ronnie exclaimed. Frank grinned widely at the three of them.

“Nah it's ok, we got like ten minutes. Oh, and Oli - what was that about American football being shit?”

“I said it was shite,” Oli replied immediately. “It is anyway, yeh all just stole the idea from British rugby, 'cept for the little head cage things...” Ronnie cracked up laughing at this, which started Frank off giggling. I sighed and checked my watch, fed up with being left out of the conversation.

“...so Max, yeh should come join us, play football or summat after school,” Oli finished suddenly, just as I snapped back into the conversation. “Bring Frank along, some of yer other mates as well if yeh want.”

“Dude, I keep fuckin telling you, he doesn't like us,” Ronnie said, sounding exasperated now. “Vegas isn't like Sheffield, or wherever the fuck you said you lived, people here don't like it if you act all clingy.”

“I thought you were new here,” I said to Ronnie, slightly curious now, despite myself. He shook his head, pushing his fringe out the way.

“I'm not actually, like, 'new'. I mean, I lived in Vegas til I was about ten, then my dad lost his job so we had to move away. He got a new job offer back here in the spring though, so we just decided to move back.”

“So...what's your dad do now then?” I asked, at a loss for anything else to say. I had totally just sidestepped my own rule about not making friends with 'new kids'.

“He's like, a deputy head at a car dealer place,” Ronnie shrugged. “ 'cause the guy in charge isn't there much, so my dad pretty much runs the place.”

“Hey guys, hate to break up the little convo here, but the bell's about to ring,” Oli broke in. I checked my watch, yet again, almost panicking now; I really didn't want to be late to football practice – not on the first day back.

“Yeah, I should go,” I announced. “See ya, everyone.”

“Meet here after school,” Frank yelled as I walked back towards the school. “We need to slaughter Oli at football later on.”