Hold on a second… doesn’t John have detention today?

Samantha Cooke hummed to herself as she stood on the highest step of the grandstand overlooking Ashcroft Academy’s sports field. Her Saturday mornings were normally spent hugging the sheets of her bed and avoiding the sun as it filtered through the crack in her curtains. Today, however, she made an exception. “John Newman…” she thought out loud, idly kicking a soda can someone had left behind. The can sailed through the air, landing with a satisfying clank in the garbage bin at the base of the grandstand.

“... is late,” Chelsea finished for her, adjusting her reading glasses as she turned over the page of her book

“Yup,” Sam agreed chipperly. “But can you blame him, Elsie? It’s a Saturday morning… only Satan would put detention on a Saturday morning.”

“It’s supposed to be a punishment, Sam; you’re not supposed to enjoy it — and I can and will blame him for picking a fight against the regrettably untouchable, Vanessa, and her dull boyfriend, Frank,” Chelsea replied. “If not for him, I could be enjoying a cup of warm coffee in my studio, painting and listening to some baroque.”

“Wow,” Sam replied dryly. “Woe unto him for barring you from painting,” she said, noting the thermos in her friend’s hands and the earphones she currently had plugged in. “You know you didn’t have to come, right?”

“It would leave a bitter taste in my mouth to leave Vanessa unopposed,” Chelsea sighed before taking a sip of the coffee in her thermos. Black, incidentally.

“True…” Sam agreed, partly having come for the same reason. “But don’t you think it’s strange? I mean, by all reports, John Newman is a nerdy nobody with a spotless school record. He only has a small circle of friends, no social contact with the opposite sex, and has been under Frank’s foot since his first day at Ashcroft.

“Reports? What, do you have a network of contacts now? Fellow nutcases keeping their ear perked and prepping for whatever doomsday is around the next corner?”

“And no, just friends in school and around town. Though ‘contacts’ sounds cooler, so let’s go with that,” Sam replied, twirling around on the top step as she spoke. “Anyway, suddenly he’s picking fights, skipping school, and hanging out with Moira Brighton of all people… not to mention that people don’t suddenly get cute.”

Elsie’s figure stiffened as Sam put emphasis on the last word, knowing it would wind her up. “I told you to never bring that up again!” she snapped back. “It was just an observation, I meant nothing by it!”

“Mmm… I wonder?” Sam teased her friend.

“Shut it,” Elsie replied shortly, burying her face in her book as if to try and ignore Sam.

“Maybe this sudden crush isn’t so sudden at all? Hmm…?” Sam looked at her friend suggestively. “You’re always talking about him after art class.”

“I am not.”

“Are so; you’re always complaining about how Miss Summers applauded his latest work or how you want him to model nude for you-”

“I have NEVER said anything like your second example, and the special attention he gets from Miss Summers simply bothers me, that is all.”

“Aww, I’m smelling a dab of jealousy!” Sam grinned. “It must be frustrating: your crush being too busy staring at Miss Summer’s assets to notice you-”

“I don’t like John Newman,” Elsie insisted, her face flushed.

“You’re what they call a tsundere, hon,” Sam teased back, struggling to contain her laughter as she riled up her friend. “You’re not being true to yourself.”

“I am not a tsundere; I detest ****, as you well know. On the other hand, your fists always seem eager to fly… But more importantly, has your stalking of him yielded any useful information, like a phone number by which we could remind him of his detention here, today?”

“Investigating him,” Sam corrected with a tone of mock offence. “And rest assured, Elsie, if I learn his number, I’ll make sure to pass it onto you. Maybe just tone down the nagging student council member schtick first, though, not really great for picking up guys—”

“Shut it,” Elsie repeated, gritting her teeth.

Sam ignored her friend’s order to barrel on with her theorycrafting. “But, his cuteness aside, you have to admit there’s something off about him…”

“I thought we already agreed he wasn’t a martian?” her friend replied, relieved that the onslaught of teasing was finally over.

“Sure, but that doesn’t mean he’s not something else, and I intend on finding out exactly what!” Sam proudly proclaimed. “Maybe he’s a vampire? Or a lizard?”

“You think John Newman’s a lizard?” Elsie paused and adjusted her reading glasses to eye Sam sceptically.

“Y’know a Lizardman… like Elon Musk or Mark the Zucc.”

“You’re crazy,” Chelsea replied with a dismissive wave of her hand before her eyes fell back to her book. They were words she often told her friend.

“No,” Sam was growing tired of correcting her friend. “I’m an intellectual! I even browse Reddit occasionally.”

“Uh-huh.” Elsie quietly chuckled but otherwise ignored her mad friend.

Their conversation was cut short by the sound of an obnoxiously loud asshat coming their way. Not long after, Frank sauntered around the corner of the gym building, with two lackeys in tow. They were unarmed, but their numbers demonstrated they hadn’t intended on playing fair with John. It was fortunate he was not present, really.

The group of thugs paused at the base of the grandstand to stare up at the two girls with dull eyes. “The fuck is Newman?” Frank asked.

Sam sized up Frank with reproach. He was a large, blond sack of meat, who had to compensate for his small brain size with muscle, and that was about all there was to him.

“We were wondering the same,” Elsie replied, without so much as glancing at Frank while she read her novel.

“What? He too much of a pussy to show up and face me?!” Frank turned to his two goons (who Sam henceforth thought of as Tweedledee and Tweedledum) and spread his arms proudly, roaring with laughter as he did. His laugh was deep and throaty and reminded Sam of that sound a dog makes right before it throws up. It was a struggle to buckle down the urge to say as much out loud, but sensibility won out in the end, and she kept her mouth zipped shut.

“So, what?” Frank began as he turned back to jeer at the two girls. “Does that mean you two are here to take his place?” he asked, licking his lips as he shamelessly leered at them. “Me and the boys don’t mind that.”

“First of all: gross, no way in hell am I letting your sweaty ass touch me,” Elsie replied briskly; however, the disgust on her face was quickly replaced by a smirk as she moved on to her second point. “Moreover: do you realise by implication you were going to fuck John had he been here instead?”

Frank’s face darkened. “What was that, four eyes?” he snarled back.

If it was meant as an insult, it failed to phase Elsie. “If you’re going to find things to insult me over, find better things to laugh at than my reading glasses. I mean, you could have at least tried to be creative about it,” she replied dismissively as she flipped the page in her book.

Sam watched on with amusement as her friend’s nonchalant attitude to Frank’s words only spurred him to greater levels of anger. “Do you want to be slapped, bitch?!”

“Case and point,” Elsie sighed. “For your sake I really do hope you aren’t trying.”

“That’s it, bitch, I was here for Newman, but I think I’m gonna break you first,” Frank smirked as he began to climb the steps towards her, making a show of appearing large and imposing. “You’ve been running your mouth, but I have the perfect thing to plug it with,” he laughed, gesturing to his crotch as if his threat needed further explanation.

Sam was no longer amused. Having let her friend do the talking, Sam was itching to give Frank a piece of her mind by way of a firm boot to the nuts. Elsie, however, held up her hand, telling Sam she had it under control.

“Don’t be rash,” Elsie chided. “The last thing you or your football scholarship need is a **** allegation — from a student council member, no less.”

Frank shrugged and grinned. “I’ll be fine; Vanessa will protect me.”

Elsie blinked in astonishment, truly taken aback by Frank’s stupidity. “How thick are you?” she bemoaned as the meaty quarterback and his even dumber companions continued to climb the steps towards her. “Be honest with yourself now, do you really think that’s true? Vanessa is rich and powerful, perhaps she is capable of shielding you, sure… but you’re just a half-baked athlete looking to break into college level football. Vanessa could have hundreds like you if she was so inclined. As soon as you stop being a convenient stool for her to sit on, you’ll be tossed in the trash like all her other toys once she’s done playing with them. The fact that she hasn’t done so already astounds me, yet now you intend on blowing it by cheating on her? I doubt it, so I’ll ask you again…”