tw: fighting and some minor foul language// “What do you all want to be when you grow up?” The teacher’s voice rang through the classroom, cutting through all side conversations. Such a simple question that was going to ruin the rest of my middle school years. Or so I thought. “A veterinarian!” Lizzie Shadowlady called, wiggling her cat ears. The middle school for hybrids and other creatures had a lot of strange members. “An archaeologist,” Pix Riffs said quietly from the front row. “A god. Oh wait, I already am,” Joel Smallish drawled from the back corner. His friends in the classroom laughed. “A botanist,” Scott Major said in his perfect Scottish accent from the seat behind me. I forced myself to not turn around and not picture his two-toned eyes and cyan hair.. Whoops, too late. “A beekeeper!” Gem Tay called from her seat next to Lizzie. “A musician!” Oli called out gleefully from his seat in the back, then went back to whistling a tune quietly. “And what about you, Jimmy?” the teacher asked when everyone else had gone. “A sheriff!” I said brightly. Joel snickered, and his friends didn’t do a good job of hiding their laughs. “Now, now, Joel, we don’t make fun of other people’s dreams,” the teacher scolded. “Yeah, yeah,” Joel muttered. The bell rang and we all rushed out of our last class of the day. After I finally managed to get my locker opened and my stuff in my backpack, I walked out of the school building and made it about five steps down the road to Tumble Town before Joel was standing in front of me, towering over my head. “W–what do you want?” I asked, voice shaking. Joel scared the crap out of me. “You do know it’s /impossible/ to become sheriff if you don’t have money, right, /Timmy/?” He gestured to my threadbare vest and worn out shoes. “You clearly are living up to your poor family’s name.” “Don’t call me Timmy,” I hissed, but I was short and my voice was small. Joel might be short compared to the seventh and eighth graders, but he was freakishly tall compared to the rest of us sixth graders. “I think I’ll call you whatever I want, you little toy.” He grinned crookedly. His friends started to surround me, blocking all of my exits. “Oh, you haven’t heard? All a sheriff is is a /toy/.” His joking smile turned slightly maniacal. “But a sheriff is also supposed to fight. So let’s see how good you are at that.” It all happened too fast for me to react. A punch to the gut. A kick to a spot below my stomach. Someone stomped on my toes. I crumpled to the ground as someone threw a punch to my jaw, then slapped me across the face. Joel placed one knee on my stomach and growled in my face. “You’re. Just. A. Stupid. Little. /Toy/.” “Get your ungodly a** off of him!” a voice with a Scottish accent yelled from behind me. “Uh, sorry, it’s /godly/ a** to you,” Joel said with the most snark I’d ever heard him pour into a sentence. “I don’t care what your stupid social hierarchy says that you are, get off of him!” My brain had been dumped into a pot of hot oil, fried, and covered in cinnamon sugar. A cinnamon sugar donut doesn’t function very well as a brain when you’re trying to think straight. “Or what? Last time I checked, Major, you’re five foot and I’m almost six foot. What are you going to do- /oof/-” Joel doubled over and fell to the ground, writing in pain. Scott Major stood over him with a triumphant smile on his face. “Five foot eight didn’t save you from a kick to the groin, apparently,” Scott said. Joel unleashed a string of ungodly words, but Scott simply ignored him and turned around to glare at Joel’s minions. “Scram.” They ran before he finished the command. Scott reached down and offered a hand to help me up. “You okay?” I grabbed his hand and stood shakily. “I’ll have a ton of bruises, but I’ll live.” My brain had gotten out of cinnamon sugar donut mode and was now only thinking /Scott Major just saved your life./ Scott smiled, showing off his perfect teeth. “C’mon. I’ve got a place I can show you to make you feel better.” He led me down the path and didn’t let go of my hand. /Scott Major is holding your hand. The cutest boy and the second most popular kid in your grade is taking you somewhere./ (cont. below)
(Story continued, click space or click to see the credits) There was a gazebo half a mile or so from the school overlooking a meadow. Flowers of almost every shape, color, and kind were dotted around the meadow. We went into the gazebo and Scott let go of my hand. I sat down and he stood, leaning against the railing and letting the fall breeze blow his cyan hair around. We sat in silence for a while. I could already feel my jaw bruising and knew that it’d hurt for at least a few days. Eventually the question I had was too much and I blurted out, “Why did you help me?” Scott looked at me strangely, his heterochromic eyes sparkling in the afternoon sunlight. “Why would I not?” “But- but you’re /Scott Major/. You’re the second most popular kid in our grade. And me… I’m just a nobody from Tumble Town. You’re a /prince/. I’m the son of a poor nobody and the bottom of the social hierarchy. Why would you help /me/?” “Being a prince isn’t all it’s hyped up to be. And I like you. I think you’re a smart person with cool ideas and dreams. And, let’s be honest, I don’t like Joel much. He teases you - and everyone else - far too much. He deserves to be kicked down a few notches.” Scott met my eyes and smiled. “Does that answer your question?” I nodded. We stayed there in comfortable silence until the sun started to set. “Do you want to hang out here tomorrow?” Scott asked me shyly as he stepped back from the railing. “Yes!” I responded far too quickly. “I-I mean, sure, I’d like that.” Scott grinned and grabbed my hand. He led me back down the path, away, from the gazebo and over towards the crossroads between the Empire’s roads. Joel was no longer writhing in pain on the ground; we were the only people on the path. Scott let go of my hand, seemingly reluctantly, and started walking down the path to Chromia. “Bye, Jimmy! Hope your jaw feels better!” I waved. “Bye, Scott! See you tomorrow!” As I walked down the path to Tumble Town, I started making up a story as to why I was coming home so late and why my jaw was swollen. But it was worth it. Scott Major was now my friend.
