Someone

The girl, Anna, never came to the office. I was there to tell my side of what happened and that as much as I was annoyed with Mick I didn’t want to throw him into detention as he already would have to face the verbal firing squad of Coach Livingstone, the football coach who looked like Hulk Hogan’s brother. I kind of wanted to be near the locker room to hear the screams—as Coach Livingstone’s voice was known to break past three hundred and ten decibels. It was best to hear it from afar through the grapevine.
I stepped out of the office and looked up and down the hallway, thinking I saw her. But I saw her in anyone that matched her clothes and hair color. I knew she wasn’t a ghost or a figment of my imitation because figments couldn’t bring down a linebacker like a matador. Tragically, since my school had a gigantic student population, the odds of finding her without going on a room-by-room search would be impossible. I only had my hope that maybe she would return to the scene of the crime again tomorrow for round two.
I walked to my locker and grabbed books for my next class and absentmindedly planned out the future romance that would occur if I could find her again. I wanted to shake off those dreams as it was probably for the best if I never saw her again as Mick would seek revenge and I was sure my car, or myself, would be the proverbial damsel in distress to lure her out for a death match.
Fifth period was English with Mrs. “J”, with her real name being something no one could pronounce, Jónsdóttir. My seat was on the far side, near the windows, so if I was late to class I would get to take the long walk of shame and parade myself to my desk.
Mrs. J called role but stopped abruptly as there was a knock on the door.
“Yes?” Her voice boomed towards the door. Mrs. J’s voice was almost on par with Coach Livingstone. The door opened and a dark-skinned guy in a white t-shirt, jeans and a backpack stepped in. His hair was cut short, almost entirely shaved-off. The questions were in everybody’s eyes: a military school reject, a foreign exchange student of some sort, or someone who had lost a bet? Perhaps he had a brother who liked to torture his siblings.
“Name?”
“Andrew Joel,” he replied as he stepped into the room.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Joel. How’s your knowledge on “The Hobbit?”
“Where there's life there's hope,” he replied.
Mrs. J’s expression changed from her normal dour expression to almost into a smile. Almost, because it was rumored that if she ever smiled her face would shatter into a million pieces.
“Take a desk next to Mr. Robison, please.”
He nodded to Mrs. J and to everyone who looked back—which was pretty much all of us—at him. Everyone, me included, were judging the book by its cover. Andrew took the desk next to me as Mrs. J stood up and handed over our monstrosity of a textbook along with a copy of the “The Hobbit” that was so tattered one would assume it too had been carried from a cave in Middle Earth.
Andrew picked the novel up and quickly flipped through the pages.
“How far are we into this?” He asked me.
“Two chapters in.”
“Cool.”
Andrew’s face looked a bit familiar to me, but, as I said I had been seeing Anna’s face in everyone that had the look. I mean, he was wearing white. I turned back to my desk to avoid looking too long. Andrew unzipped his backpack and took out a notebook and a pencil.
I tried to read the book. I really tried but the lunchroom scenario replayed in my head like a highlight reel. I tried to stitch together a multi-camera view of the action and each time my thoughts concentrated on her face. If only I had a camera to take a picture. It would have won a Pulitzer.
At the sound of the bell, the rest of the class evacuated the room, possibly to avoid Mrs. J from assigning another chapter before we finished discussing the current one.
Andrew methodically placed his notebook, pencils and books into his backpack. I decided I’d try to be friendly. Talking to him again could go three ways: we’d get a long in a quasi-friend status; he would join up with Mick; or Andrew could become the new Mick in my life. I already had one, and I didn’t want another. I took a deep breath.
“Where are you from, Andy? Do you prefer Andrew?”
“I wish it wasn’t either, but I’m stuck with it. Andy’s cool. I’m from Georgia.”
“Land of peaches.”
“My mama makes a killer peach cobbler,” he replied with a sparkle in his eyes. “The flavor never stops coming.”
“She’s that good a cook?”
“She could teach Julia Childs everything.”
I had no idea who that was.
“Truth be told, she’s at bit too good.”
“Too good?” I asked as we walked into the crowded hall.
“She makes these grand dinners because she used to work in this hotel as a chef and so every night it’s something grand. What I’d give to just have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich someday. Man, I am so glad my little sister ain’t around to hear me say that. She’d tattle all the way home.”
“Siblings do that.”
“Tell me about it.”
I didn’t give in and talk about my older brother in college or my younger sister in junior high. It was best to just let him talk.
“But ya gotta care about them.”
“Even though sometimes you’d want to kill them,” I replied.
“Ain’t that the truth,” Andrew said as we moved over to his locker. “They got me in boonies to my next class, don’t’ they?”
“Who’s your next class?”
“Uhh, a Mrs. Perry,” Andrew said as he opened his locker.
“Yeah, you’ve gonna have to walk down the hall to the second staircase to the third floor.”
“What? No elevator?”
“AC doesn’t work a lot of days either,” I replied.
“Man, why did we have to move here? Parents,” Andrew said with a sigh and looked down the hall. “Move closer to the wall in five seconds.”
“What?”
“Move. Now!”
I took a sidestep as a rushing breeze rushed by my neck. I looked to see Mick and his friends. He looked back in amazement for a second but then brushed me off with a wave and kept on walking.
“Guy thinks the sun comes up just to hear him crow. I hate bullies.”
My mind went back to the lunchroom to when Anna said the same thing.
“Well,” Andrew replied as he closed the locker door, guess I’m gonna have to run til I’m plumb out. “Catch you later, Greg.”
“Yeah, see you,” I walked across the hall but stopped in the middle and looked to where Andrew was at before he turned the corner.
How did he know my name?