MT   Hey, ASSHOLES.

MT   That's my locker.

You push your way through the crowd, through their yelps and complaints. The weight of eyes bears on you as you make it all the way to the other side, right next to that kid. Fortunately, your locker was right in the fray.

??   This doesn't concern you.

MT   It's a public space. FUCK if it has to do with me.

MT   And can you back off of this one? It's a bad look, for starters.

You start fiddling with the lock. Next to you, the quiet kid's just holding themself by their arms and muttering. Wishing this was all over, probably.

??   We've got business with him.

??   So. Beat. it.

You feel the head grunt lean in. Finally getting the right combination, you open your locker and grab a lacrosse stick.

MT   How about you beat it?

You whirl around and make wide, aggressive movements towards them. They take a few steps back.

MT   Seriously, this is pathetic.

MT   What could that guy do? What's your damage?

There's a strange, uncomfortable energy in the air, now. The clique are giving each other looks.

??   Dude, I don't think you know that -

MT   I don’t need to know.

MT   Piss off, before I find out your locker combinations and burn your books.

The head grunt steps forward, their hands balled into fists.

??   You idiot, he's the one who -

MT   B13, right?

Their eyes, narrowed, now widen. It gives you the adrenaline to smile, right in their stupid face.

MT   Knew it. It matches your DUMBASS bag.

MT   And it's not safe to have only 3 number codes, y'know.

MT   Someone could break in and burn your books.

They snarl and give you a rough shove against the locker. Then, they turn around.

??   We're going to miss 4th period.

??   What about...?

??   Let this one deal with him.

Gradually, they all disappear, shooting their own brands of glare your way. You rub your shoulder and put the lacrosse stick inside your backpack.

MT   FUCK. That smarts.

MT   I'm only saving one freak per semester from now on. This SHIT'S not worth it.

??   ...

MT   Hey. Earth to freak. You good?

??   Wah! I-I'm fine!

Somewhat relieved, you start gathering your belongings.

VC   My name is Vincent.

MT   ...

MT   Matt.

VC   You... saved me. Thank you.

MT   Well, I've been there.

MT   This GODDAMN academy's full of entitled pricks.

VC   I-Is that so?

MT   Yeah. So it matters to, y'know, do something about it.

You shut your locker, and the noise makes him jump. A piece of paper flutters out, so you reach down and grab it.

MT   Here.

VC   Oh, thank you.

Your eyes graze over the paper, and you freeze. He takes it from your stilled hands, offering you a warm smile.

VC   Matt. I'm in your debt.

MT   ...

MT   No, actually, it's fine.

You start walking down the hall. You can hear him calling out from the lockers.

VC   You're my hero.

MT   Not really. Also, I'm leaving now.

VC   I owe you everything.

MT   You really don't. Leaving!

You quicken your pace. When you spare a glance behind you, he's right there.

MT   What the -

VC   What class do you have now?

MT   W... why?

Vincent matches your confused expression.

VC   I... thought it was obvious.

You swallow.

MT   I'm gonna be late.

You make a full sprint for the stairs. You weave past all the other students, thanking the gods that lacrosse has trained your legs so well. And when you head inside the classroom, dropping your backpack onto your seat, you breathe a sigh of relief. But not before you notice that the zipper is open.

MT   (Oh, FUCK.)

??   Settle down, class.

??   As you know, today's World Poetry Day.

MT   (DAMN it, did I drop the GODDAMN stick -)

??   So, please give your full attention -

MT   (I need to go back, but that freak -)

??   - to our guest speakers from Creative Writing.

The door opens as a handful of students come in. Defeated, you slump down in your seat.

??   The first poem is titled, "Perils of the Bleeding Heart."

??   You can go whenever you're ready, Mr. Labelle.

You finally bother to look to the front of the room. One of the students is looking at you. He's smiling. And he's holding a lacrosse stick.

You sink down even further in your chair.