As you leaned against the padded wall, observing the class, the small boy you helped out in the locker room walked up to you with a nervous smile on his face. ”T-thanks again for helping me back there,” he said, mumbling his words as he tried to brush his long dark bangs away from his eyes. ”Whatever it was that you did.”
You smiled in return and nodded. ”Whatever it was,” you repeated.
”So what do I have to do to prove that you can trust me?” he asked, scrunching up his nose as he looked at you. ”I'm dying to find out how you did that.”
You shrug. ”I don’t really have anything specific that I’m looking for. Just be yourself this week, and we'll see.”
Sighing, he slumped his shoulders a little, obviously disappointed in your answer. ”Fine...”
Seeing him dejected like this made you start to second-guess your decision, but you knew that you had to learn more about him and see if he would prove himself on his own terms. Still, it wouldn't hurt to help him out a little. ”Maybe it would help if we knew each other’s names. I’m Brandon, by the way,” you said, sticking out your hand.
The boy looked down at your hand, seemingly unsure of what to do with it for a second before finally grabbing it and shaking. ”Ashton,” he replied. ”My friends call me Ash. That is, they would if...” His voice trailed off as he looked away, but you knew what he was trying to say.
”That’s okay, Ash,” you said as you tried to smile reassuringly, not confident that you succeeded. ”Freshman year can be tough. I know mine was, back in Kansas.”
Ash’s eyes widened. ”Kansas? I wouldn't have guessed you were from there. You don't have an accent or anything.”
Chuckling, you shook your head. ”Most people from where I'm from don't. I grew up outside Kansas City; my house was half a mile from the Missouri state line.”
”Ah. Okay.” He looked to be lost in thought for a moment, then suddenly turned back to you with a look of embarrassment in his eyes. ”I, uh, I hope I didn't offend you or anything. I wasn't trying to imply you were a hick or something. Not that being from Kansas would make you a hick-- that is--” As Ash kept talking, he started to look more and more nervous, sweat starting to form on his brow.
”Ash, relax,” you said, placing a hand on his shoulder. ”I wasn't offended.” As you touched him, you decided to use your powers to help him out a little, causing his body to calm down slightly and returning his heart rate to a normal level.
”Good.” He didn't seem to notice your intervention, and he grew silent for a few minutes. As he did, you looked around at the rest of your classmates. It seemed to be about fifty percent freshman like Ash, the rest made up of a mixture of transfers from other states like you, older students who didn't pass gym their first year, and born jocks for whom taking a gym class was the only worthwhile reason to go to school. Though the bell had rung three minutes ago, the teacher had yet to get started, so most of the class had split into three or four groups and were chatting about their summers, movies and TV shows they had seen, and tryouts for several fall sports that were happening this week. You noticed the two bullies had joined a group with two other older looking kids, all of whom were talking in lower tones, occasionally glaring your direction, though you weren't sure if they were looking at you or Ash.
”Okay, lunkheads, shut your mouths and listen up!” The voice of the gym teacher had startled several students, booming from the doorway where he had just entered from. ”My name is Mr. Buckner, and I get the wondrous privilege to teach gym to all of you 'leaders of tomorrow'." These last words were dripping with sarcasm, punctuated by Mr. Buckner rolling his eyes as he said them. "We all know that this is probably the last place any of us want to be after a nice relaxing summer, but the state of California forces you to be here, and my mortgage and child support payments force my sorry ass to be here, so we’re all going to have to learn to live with it.”
Though most of the rest of the class is looking up at Mr. Buckner with a mixture of horror and disgust, you can't help but find his display a little amusing, and you chuckle. Immediately, he spins in your direction, glaring menacingly at you. ”What was that?!” He stomped your direction, the other groups of students moving out of his way as he passed.
Standing directly in front of you, he leaned in, snarling almost like a wild dog. In your peripheral vision, you could see Ash visibly trembling, though he remained by your side, either too scared to move or not willing to leave the closest thing he had to a friend in this school. You seemed to be the only one in the gym who wasn't intimidated by Mr. Buckner-- of course, you were also the only one who could, without moving a muscle, shrink him down to the size of a flea, or crunch his body into the form of a ball and cause him to go flying through the air into one of the basketball hoops. Maybe it was time for the gym teacher to be taught a lesson...
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