The Nerd Boy

"If you don't mind Oscar, I have a favor to ask you," Mr. Faye, a teacher in his mid thirties, sat down on a chair opposite me.

I raised an eyebrow curious on what he wanted me to do. Everyone knew that I was acing this class, I could probably do it in my sleep. People thought I acted a little bit like a teachers' pet, but I like to help whenever I can, if needed of course. Mr. Faye said he wanted to see me at break so that's why I was currently in this empty English classroom. I twiddled with my fingers hoping it wouldn't be something tiresome like having to help mark the papers or something.

"Erm, okay. What do you want me to do?" I asked.

He pulled out a file from his desk and placed it down on the table I was sitting at. I peered at it looking at the name titled in large bold letters at the top that was definitely recognizable to anyone at this school. I inwardly groaned, knowing I should have backed out of this sooner.

Francis Darson was the name written down on the paper. I had a very bad feeling about this, that guy hated anyone who wasn't in his clique. I actually bumped into him earlier and the look in his eye that he gave me was pure menacing. Of course, I ignored this but I think he saw me roll my eyes. Hopefully this wasn't a horrible mistake that I could make.

Picking up the file, I skimmed through it noticing something that definitely stuck out like a sore thumb. I smirked wondering whether to laugh at the poor mistakes Francis had wrote for his essay on Shakespeare's Macbeth. Unfortunately, the boy had gotten a very low D just skimming the F category. Poor boy.

"I'd like you to tutor Francis Darson, he refuses to get tutoring from the teachers so I thought maybe a student like yourself would help him," he told me.

I dropped the folder, frozen in position. The smirk that had appeared on my face faltered as I looked up at Mr. Faye in disbelief. How could he think that me tutoring him would be any good. He'd probably just get another chance to do something awful to me and I wouldn't get any help from Kennedy.

Usually, Francis wasn't the one who'd pick on me. Maybe he'd give me some rude remarks or insults but he never did anything like Burly or the kids from the football team. I know he is worse though, his methods are much hurtful than being tied to a pole or being beaten up. He finds ways to hurt people emotionally.

"No, no, no! I can't do that, I'm sorry," I objected standing up ready to go before the teacher made an excuse why I should tutor Francis.

It was my fault that I was shit at escaping in bad situations like these.

"This will help your application, Oscar, just take it into consideration," he pleaded me.

He probably made that up, who else would take on someone like Francis Darson? I was the only who had the guts and the brains to do so, even the teachers seemed to realize this.

I felt like pulling my hair out, unsure of what to do. To be killed or not to be killed? A very difficult decision indeed.



Being stuck with Kennedy in a class can really give you a headache by the end of it. All he does is talk and talk and talk until it feels like your head is going to blow up from all of the information he has given you. Even if the subject was one that I didn't mind, which happened to be Visual Arts, it made everything so much more difficult.

I felt like the colors on my paint palette had come to life and were swirling around in front of me creating a picture in mid air. Okay, I have a very vivid imagination.

"And then he ended up getting his finger stuck down the drink machine!" he giggled and then looked at my crappy excuse for a painting, "What's that it looks like a cat with a zebras butt."

He looked at my face, a crooked grin stretching across his features, he probably expected me to laugh with him. I really wasn't in the mood. He noticed this as he leaned and looked at my face a frown appearing on his.

"What's wrong? You look like you've got something on your mind," he inquired.

Even now, I couldn't make my mind up of what I was going to do about the tutoring. It must have been showing on my face because it had definitely influenced my emotions. Kennedy was always curious about everything, he'd wait for as long as it took until I answered his question. Besides, maybe he could give me some advice in what I should do.

"Mr. Faye has asked me to tutor...Francis Darson," I murmured that person's name as quietly as possible.

Kennedy put a hand up to his ear, "You what? Who do you have to tutor?"

"Francis stupid bloody idiot Darson!" I practically yelled at him.

He backed away at my sudden outburst looking like a hurt puppy.

"I hate it when you yell, you look like you're going to murder someone or something," he pointed out.

You know who I'm going to murder? Kennedy Young, it will happen sooner or later. After that, the two of us were left in silence. Which was strange for the most part. Although, Kennedy was humming a song that I slightly recognized but he wasn't actually talking to me. After a long pause of strange and uncomfortable silence, Kennedy spoke.

"I think you should do it," he decided.

I looked at him like he had lost his head and screwed back on backwards. Does this boy actually think about what he says?

"Okay and why is that?" I asked.

He flicked a paint brush over his canvas before answering, "I don't know, you could get some dirt on him or something. Like you could destroy his reign over our high school. I don't know, it's just an idea."

That was an excellent idea. It would be perfect to teach Francis a lesson and even the others would act differently too if he got his own medicine. But the thought of it was very dangerous, that plan could fail badly and if it failed I could find myself at the top of Francis's hate list. That was one place I really didn't want to be.

I smirked, fuck it. Let's just see where this goes.

"I could seriously kiss you right now!" I hugged him letting him go when I realized what I said, "Erm, no homo though."

He snickered, a faint smile appearing on his features.