The Truth Is a Terrible Thing

Like usual, I’m the first student to get into the classroom. I mumble a greeting to Mr. Barton, the teacher, before sitting in the seat I usually like to sit in. I take out an ink pen and begin to doodle on my hand to pass time, waiting for the five minute warning bell to ring.

I’m in the middle of coloring the ear of a panda I drew when someone bumps into my hand, making me draw a line from its left ear to the right corner of it’s mouth, or in other words, fucking the panda up so badly that I can’t even fix it. I keep back a growl as I look up to see the intruder but calm myself down when I see Oli sheepishly throwing himself into the chair next to mine.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes awkwardly, realizing that he made me mess up my doodle.

“It’s fine, don’t worry ‘bout it,” I answer just as awkwardly. “You probably shouldn’t sit there though.”

He looks to me and raises an eyebrow, “Why’s that?”

“Dean sits there. If he saw you there, he’d be pissed.”

Oli shrugs, “Okay.”

“No, really. Dean isn’t anyone to fuck with, mate.”

As soon as the words slip off my tongue, the five minute bell rings. Only seconds later, students start coming in.

“Okay,” Oli says again, turning away from me.

“Sup, Mr. B!” I hear Dean’s obnoxiously loud voice call out followed by a groan from Mr. Barton.

“Dude, that’s him. You should really pick a different seat,” I try one last time, desperately. Oli gives me a look.

“You must really want me to go away, huh?” he asks, sounding both offended and slightly irritated.

“No, that’s not it!” I tell him, but Dean has already made his way over to the two of us by then.

“You’re in my seat, kid,” Dean spits out at Oli, glaring down at him. Oli ignores him though which only pisses him off further.

This kid has a fucking deathwish…

“Dude, are you fucking deaf? This is my seat!”

“I can hear you, and I don’t care,” Oli tells him, not a single hint of fear or anything along the lines to be found in his voice.

Dean’s seething and has Oli by the collar as soon as the words leave his lips, and I’m horrified. I look between the two teenage boys and see that Oli doesn’t seem affected by the position he’s in too much. I would’ve been all to pieces if that was me in his position.

“Dean! Put that boy down and see me out in the hall!” Mr. Barton’s angry voice booms when he sees the argument go too far. Dean growls something at Oli before putting him down, storming out of the room, quickly followed by our teacher. I look to Oli, who stared at the wall with a blank expression.

“You okay?” I ask him.

“I’m fine.”

The bell rings, Mr. Barton returning shortly. I can only assume that Dean got sent to SIPS or some shit like that.

Once the morning announcements are over with, Mr. Barton walks up to the front of the room enthusiastically as if the whole Oli and Dean episode never happened.

“Good morning, guys! So, we have a new student joining us today! Oliver, stand up and tell us about yourself, would ya?”

Oli sighs and rises to his feet, eyes locked on his desk.

“Uh, I’m Oli, I love bands and I love bands more than all of you peasants in here.”

With that, Oli throws himself back into his seat and stares at the wall. A few scoffs and comments are made but Oli doesn’t seem too affected. Mr. Barton starts off today’s lesson by pulling up a presentation and instructing us to get out the materials to take notes. More comments are made as I open my bag and pull out a sheet of paper.

“Fuck,” I hear Oli groan. “Hey, I know you don’t like me, but can you help a man out and lend me a sheet of paper? Left mine at home.”

I nod and slide my sheet to him, taking a new one out for myself, “I don’t dislike you, I was just trying to ‘help a man out’.”

“M’kay,” he tells me as he titles his notes.