Just a Freak

"So, Riley, how's your egg project going along with Caleb?"

"Awesome. Her name's Debbie."

"Oh. Lovely."

"Hey, Connie, i have a question."

She sighed.

"Mrs. Fritz, Riley."

"Come on, Connie, we're practically family."

"What's your question, Riley?" She asked, ignoring my plea.

"Uh, do you know where Caleb sits at lunch? Because, well, I'd ask him myself but I have no idea where to find him outside of the buses, and I was so caught up in getting Debbie out of my bag and giving it to him I forgot to--"

"I think Caleb goes to the art room during lunch."

"He does? That's pretty gay."

"Riley."

"What? It is. Not as gay as in stupid, but gay as in homosexual."

"Riley."

"It's my opinion. It's a free country, Connie."

"Riley, Mrs. Fritz, please."

"What kind of straight guy goes to the art room during lunch?"

"Riley, respect his interests!"

"I am! I'm just--"

"Just being very nosy, young lady."

Ah, fuck Mrs. Fritz.

Connie.

We had an assembly during the block that I usually have calculus.

Internet safety presentation.

I don't even need this.

No Mr. Geiger.

Damn the curriculum.

I wasn't paying any attention.

My mind was on Caleb.

I was still dead fucking curious about the writing on his arms.

I take sculpting class.

So I guess it's not so weird that I walked into the art room during lunch.

Poor Caleb was in there all alone.

Bent over some little drawing.

He's a doll.

In a good way.

"Camp down ladies, sing this song! Doo dah, doo dah!"

Caleb's head jerked up and he looked frantically around the room, like a deer in headlights.

"Chillax, K, it's just me."

His body relaxed a bit and he grinned. "Hi, Riley."

"Hey, K. Watcha drawing?"

He shrugged. "How, um, how come you're here?"

"Dunno. Felt like it. How's Deb?"

"Debbie's, uh, good. She's in a little cooler in my locker."

"Great. Are you reading her stories at night?"

He bit his lip and grinned. "Uh, she's an egg."

"She needs love, K."

"Um, alright. I'll read her a story tonight, then."

"Just so you know, she hates Madeleine and Clifford scares the shit out of her."

"Okay. Um, I'll remember that. So, uh, how are you?"

"Good, good."

I walked over next to him and peered over his shoulder.

He was drawing a arm.

"Holy crap. A disembodied limb. You draw horror?"

"No, um, I'm just practicing drawing arms. I'm not very good at them."

"Nah, I think that's a pretty fucking good arm."

"Thanks."

He was wearing a sweatshirt.

Damn it, I wanted to know what was written on his arms so badly.

I just need to get his sweatshirt off.

"It's hot in here, huh?"

"I'm fine."

I frowned. Whatever. I'll just come out and say it.

"What was on your arms when you came to my house?"

"What?"

He's playing dumb.

"You had writing on your arms when you came over my house last week. You know, when we made Debbie."

"I, um..."

He hunched over. He was blushing.

"Um, I, I don't know what you..."

I felt bad.

I actually sort of felt bad for saying that.

"If you... If you don't want to talk about it... It's okay," I said, in spite of myself.

He relaxed.

"Thanks."