I Have Only Myself to Give, Nothing More

It’s first day of school and I’m standing nervously in front of my mirror, playing with my dull brown hair until the long bangs fall into my face, halfway hiding my scared eyes, so I decide to leave it like that.

I want to a private school last year and I want to make a good impression on my new classmates this year, so I’m overly careful in picking out my outfit. Acid-washed jeans that are tight but not too tight, a loose grey v-neck, my favorite black hoodie, and just a hint of eyeliner—I’m thinking I pretty good.

Is it still me that makes you sweat? I sing in my head, eyeing my reflection and trying on a seductive face, which only results in nearly falling over with laughter.

“BUS!” my dad roars from downstairs and I collect myself quickly, grabbing my backpack off my bed and flying down the steps so I don’t miss the school bus on my first day. Now that would make a great impression.

I open the front door and am about to step outside when my dad’s hand on my shoulder stops me. “What?” he asks, staring hard at me. “No good-bye kiss for daddy?”

I freeze up, staring up at him with wide eyes and a dropped jaw. When was the last time he asked for physical contact? I wonder, trying to figure out his motives. Fight or flight? Fight or flight? Affection isn’t even an option in this household.

Finally deciding that I don’t want to risk a bruise on my first day of school—yeah, that would go over well—I close my mouth and leave, pulling the door as tightly shut as possible behind me, before sprinting for the bus.

There will be hell to pay later, I think grimly, sliding into a seat near the back.

“Hey! Novato! Newbie!” a slick voice interrupts my thoughts and I look up and up and up to see an astoundingly tall boy with chocolaty skin standing over me.

“Y-yeah?” I reply then immediately bite my tongue for letting my voice shake.

“Mind if I sit here, novato?” he asks, gesturing at the seat next to me.

Unsure if I can trust my voice, I merely nod and scoot even closer the window.

The boy laughs. “I don’t bite,” he says with a grin. “You can come back.”

“Why do you want to sit next to me?” I ask, not moving. “I’m new and you’re obviously not. Why me? Why not one of your friends?”

“Because all my friends drive themselves and I live on the wrong side of town to catch a ride with one of them,” the boy says, leaning back in his seat and pawing the air like a cat.

“Oh.” That seems like an honest answer and I allow myself to relax away from the window slightly.

The rest of the ride consists of this stranger boy complaining to me that he always gets stuck on the school bus and that it’s so boring. “No offense, novato,” he says, grinning at me as the bus pulls up at my new school.

“Uh, none taken,” I mumble and follow the boy off the bus into the school entrance hall, where a flock of boys descend upon us.

“Hey! New-face! Who’re you?” one boy asks, tilting his head at me.

Too many people, too quickly, too fast, and I’m about one more surprise away from a panic attack. “R-Ryan,” I whisper, ashamed of my obvious anxiety.

“Not sure of your own name, are you?” the boy asks with a cheeky grin.

“Jon!” another boy says sharply, jabbing him in the ribs. “Don’t be a dick.”

“I don’t think he can help it,” a third boy with light brown mutters under his breath and I laugh nervously.

The boy, Jon, rolls his eyes and gives me friendly look. “So, uh, Ryan,” he says, shoving a hand through his hair. “Welcome to this hellhole some people like to call school. I’m Jon, and this”—he nudges the brown-haired boy—“is Spencer.”

Spencer raises a hand in greeting. “Hey.”

“Hi,” I say hoarsely, too overwhelmed to say anything else.

“He-who-rides-the-bus-with-you is Gabe,” Spencer says, jerking his head in the direction of the tall stranger-boy.

“Novato,” he says in greeting and reaches a hand out to grab a hold of a passing boy. “And Ryan, mi amigo, this is William. Thought you’d get away without saying on the first day of school, did you?” Gabe asks William, frowning.

“Hi Ryan,” William says and turns back to Gabe. “I wasn’t try to avoid you, I was merely trying to find my locker since some admiral ass decided to take out the lockers by the music rooms.”

Gabe shakes his head and the introductions continue.

“So in case you were wondering who really runs these lads, it’s me,” a dark-haired boy says, grinning lazily. “The one, the only—”

“True pain in the ass,” a ginger-haired boy cuts in then turns to give me a sweet smile. “I’m Patrick and over here is Mr. Arrogant, also known as Pete.”

“N-nice to meet you all,” I say shyly, waiting for the last boy, the one who first reprimanded Jon, to introduce himself, but he stays silent, watching me with large, brown eyes.

Apparently I’m not the only one waiting since Pete’s arm lashes out to smack the boy on the back of the head.

“Ow!” the boy exclaims and whips around to glare at Pete. “What was that for?”

“Introduce yourself, you dumbshit.”

The boy blushes and turns back around to look at me. “Oh, um, I’m Brendon,” he says, rubbing the back of his head bashfully.

He’s cute, I think absent-mindedly. I’d tap that if I were gay.

Then I immediately blush and we stand there awkwardly blushing at each other for a few seconds until Jon clears his throat. “So, uh, we should probably swing by the office to grab our new schedules and head to class before the bell rings,” he says, and so we do exactly that.

“So what grade are you in, Ryan?” Spencer asks as they lead me to the office.

“Junior,” I answer, suddenly wondering if I’m even the same age as the rest of these boys.

“Awesome! Us too!” Patrick interjects. “Well, except for Jon; he’s a senior. Don’t know why he likes hanging out with us though.”

“’Cuz no one in his own grade wants him around,” Pete mutters under his breath.

William shakes his head at Pete. “Nah, it’s ‘cuz of Brendon,” he says, and I have no idea what that means but everyone just sort of nods and quietly agrees.

“Next year,” Jon says grandly after we get out schedules, “I’m gonna take a gap care and I’m gonna keep coming back to tease of you babies.”

“More like you’re just too lazy to apply to college this year,” Spencer mutters, shaking his head.

“Jon’s laziness aside, can we get to class before we’re late?” Brendon asks.

I look down at my schedule and smile because I have one of my favorite classes first. I open my mouth to ask someone where Room 103 is when Pete rips the piece of paper out of my hands.

“English,” he reads out. “Anyone else have English?”

A chorus of voices hits my ears: “No.” “Uh, hang on.” “Nah! “I … I don’t know!” “I might.” “Well, not first period.” And I have to roll my eyes at the effectiveness of that.

In the midst of the flurry, someone’s hand finds its way into mine and pulls me from the group of boys. I glance at Brendon in surprise; he has both our schedules in his other hand. “I have English with you,” he says, dropping my hand with an apologetic smile, “so I thought I should step in and safe you from Pete’s anarchy.”

“Oh no, I’m grateful, really,” I say with a shy smile as we walk into English class and find seats next to each other.

I think I may have just made my first friend.