Southaven High had about 1,920 students. Needless to say one could get lost in the ether of students and become invisible. I didn’t want to be invisible but I also didn’t want to be seen after Amber left. Plus, there were thoughts that the guys in the text went to my school and were laughing and winking at me from a distance: “we know something you don’t know”.
I took the middle line: If you said hi to me, then I would say hi back. If someone nodded to me, I’d reply likewise. If you threw up your middle finger, I’d think how much I wanted to snap it back to your wrist and then ask “how’s it feel?”
Bryce just walked with his head held high and his dyed blonde hair aglow. He stuck out, but Bryce was also big. He was football team material but refused to play due to not wanting to work out with a bunch of “uncouth morons”, as he put it. He did play for a season, freshman year, and was a brick wall to any opposing team player who tried to break through the line. He didn’t mind the hits and the near compound fracture to his left shoulder blade, but he refused to be a team player after being hazed in the locker room.

Unlike any movie I saw, no one bothered him about it in public. There were never a mob of players ready to “teach him a lesson”—because they knew that Bryce would not fight fair. The Geneva Convention did not apply to him. There was one time that one guy thought joe could take Bryce on. This guy was—past tense—on the football team but after a little “accident”—his words—after taking with Bryce, ended his playing days. I once described to Bryce what I think happened and he just laughed about it.
“It’s going to be something everyone’s going to talk about for infinity,” he replied.

Unlike my life at the time. I walked into the junior wing and continued my trek to my first block class. I sighed once or twice. Not heavy-handed ones, but there was a moment where I felt that heavy sighs were going to be my senior quote in the yearbook next year. I had my head down—in the hopes of staying invisible.
“Whoa, eyes front, soldier.”
I stopped as I could see a pair of shoes in my peripheral vision. It took me a second or two to raise my head to see a girl with a short skirt and even shorter red hair standing a mere two inched form me.
“Sorry,” I replied.
“No problem,” she replied. “Judging by everyone else’s’ height, I’m probably in the wrong wing.”
“This is D wing, juniors.”
“That would explain why I can’t find my first block class.”
“Senior?”
“I wish. Sophomore. Judge me lightly, please.”
“This way,” I replied as I turned around and we went against the current back to the main hall.
“I am going to get so buried by this place.”
“Where are from?” I asked.
“Grand Island, Nebraska.”
‘I used to live in Nebraska,” I replied.
“Let me guess, Omaha?”
“You’re good.”
“My next guess would have been Lincoln. Cornhusker fan?”
“I don’t even like high school football.”
“But you go to the games?”
“I have to pay for my student ID card, so I try to get some use out of it.”
“I’d rather just stay home and read a book.”
“Like, say, ‘Night of the Twisters’?”
“Hey, thats’ required reading where I come from.”
“There’s a move version.”
“And it sucked as much as ‘Fifty Shades of Grey’,” she replied with a scoff.
I stopped us in front of hall C and moved my hands in a “here you go” manner. “Sophomore wing. Hall C.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
“I’m Haley.”
“Pete.”
“I’ll try to avoid any Spider-Man references.”
“I don’t mind those at all. However, I don’t have any pickled peppers.”
“Duly noted,” she replied. “Keep your chin up and look out for me.”
“Okay,” I replied with a smile but my mind was ready to dismiss her. Not like I’d see her during school and if I did, I’d probably not remember her face. Her shoes and legs, maybe…but it would be awkward got search for her by the shape of her thighs.
That gets you sent to the office pretty quick.

I walked back to my school wing as the bell chimed to start the first block—signaling that I then had to run down half the length of a football field and a flight of stairs to get to my class.

I’d have to ask Bryce what “Fifty Shades of Grey” was about.

“It’s a terrible movie,” Bryce replied as we sat down in the cafeteria. “Good enough book.”
“That’s usually how it is.”
“I mean if it was a movie, it might as well have been a skin flick.”
“Even worse than ‘Skinamax’?” I thought nothing could ever be as bad as the films that came on after midnight. They were usually as bad as the ones on Showtime, grainy and distorted video—because my family didn’t have a subscription—but you could make out the making out without trouble.
“You’ll have to read the book.”
“Who are you, Levar Burton?”
“Levar’s my man, Pete.”
I looked to the far side of the room and saw the girl from earlier, Haley.
“Don’t think about it, man.”
“About what?”
“You’re looking at someone like a hungry dog. Blond hair?”
“Red.”
“Tall?”
“Not really.”
“Skimpy dress?”
“I think she’ll be called on by a teacher eventually, but I’m not going to be the one to say anything.”
Bryce turned around and looked in her general direction.
“Ah, I see what’s going on.”
“See what?”
Bryce turned back to me and tapped his fingers on the table. “You are what is called, the rebound.”
“I am not.”
“You are. Every honey’s cute. Every girl’s attractive. It’s like beer googles without the beer. The emotions, they…they get’ cha. Ah, hell, whatever. Go for her. She’s cute. Not going to deny that.”
“You think she is?”
“How is her personality?”
“She’s friendly,” I replied as I got up from my chair.
“Where are you going?”
“To ask her to sit with us.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah.”
“Make your move, Spider-Man.”
I took a few steps away.
“If she asks you to sign a contract, run, okay?”
“Is that in the book?”
“It is. But you don’t have to take my word for it.”