Worries.

“Oh yeah, what’s with that?” Sarah realized. “You were hiding here?”

“Does it have something to do with how little you speak?” Grace asked.

“…” Pressure was returning to my chest. I didn’t want them to ask because I didn’t want to answer. Sure, they liked me, even if I had no idea why, but that was only regarding sex. What if I said something that made them think I was pathetic? What we had, whatever it was, was more than I could ever ask for. It had just started. I didn’t want to lose it. But… What if my silence pissed them off, too? They WERE asking. “I’m… not good with people,” I admitted.

“What do you mean?” Mila asked.

“…I’m afraid to speak,” I continued, pushing myself. Every word coming from my mouth came out low, nearly hoarse, and made my head spin. “I don’t want…” to bother people, for them to laugh at me, to get in their way. How would they react if I said that? Probably think I’m being stupid and irrational, because I was.

“Oliver…” Mila started to say something but the bell rang, signaling the end of the second recess. “Urgh! Not now!” she cursed the sound.

“You’re not off the hook, mister,” Grace said, poking my nose. “We’ll continue this during lunch.”

“Don’t try to escape, you hear?” Sarah warned me.

It would be yet another period in which I would not be able to pay attention to class. I’d been saved by the bell, but only temporarily. We went back to our classroom in silence for another class.

I wasn’t planning to escape, I promise. It was the teacher who suddenly pulled me away when the lunch bell rang. She said Mr. Ortiz, our math and homeroom teacher, wanted to speak to me in his office.

I shot Sarah, Grace and Mila an apologetic look as I walked by, but they answered with annoyed scowls that made me flinch. Yep, they were mad.

I went to Mr. Ortiz’s office, knocked on the door and he allowed me in.

“Mr. Brooks, welcome,” the old teacher said with a kind smile. “Please, take a seat.” I sat across from him at his desk and waited for him to finish typing something on his computer. “Mr. Brooks, let me ask you how you’ve been doing these past few days.”

I raised an eyebrow at the question.

“You’ve always been a very quiet student. Not the best, not the worst, but you’re a responsible young man. Your assignments are rarely late, you are usually the first to raise your hand when we need people to clean the classroom, you’re always willing to help teachers and students with menial tasks… I could go on, but I think I’ve made my point. What I want to ask, Mr. Brooks, is if people have been bothering you recently.”

People bothering me? Wait. Did he mean those three? Because they were the only people aside from Thomas I had…socialized with recently.

“Your sister approached me this morning and asked me if you were doing okay. Then I saw you nervously leaving my class with… three of our most problematic students.”

We had guessed rumors would start spreading, but I didn’t think the teachers would notice so soon, let alone do something about it. Then again, my sister was meddling.

“You’re a kind young man, rarely refusing when people ask something of you. I’m worried these girls might be… taking advantage of you.”

Taking advantage of me? Far from it. I kept thinking that things seemed too good to be true, and I would have been worried there was something else behind it if not for that unexplainable certainty that, at the very least, they were attracted to me.

I shook my head. I still didn’t know what was happening, but these girls I admired had taken an interest in me. I didn’t feel like they were taking advantage of me.

“I see. Nevertheless, please be wary of them. Ms. Valentine has been caught in suspicious dealings in school grounds before, Ms. West has a record of **** and Ms. Aliev has been caught copying in tests and plagiarizing assignments. I don’t believe they’re the right crowd for a quiet young man like you.”

Here’s the translation: they are bitches and they’re bad news for a pushover like you. At least that was how my 18 year old self interpreted the teacher’s genuine worry. As kids, we’re too caught up in our own affairs that we can’t see the bigger picture. We don’t see what the teachers see. Problem is that the opposite also happens. Teachers have to keep such a broad view of the school that they can’t see much of what happens on an individual level for every student. It means it’s hard for us to see eye to eye, which is why I denied everything again.

“Very well. But remember that, should you ever feel troubled, you can approach any of the school staff, okay?”

To that I nodded mindlessly.

Mr. Ortiz let me go, and once out I wondered what I should do. The girls seemed mad, but… Yeah, I had to go to them and explain, or it’d make things worse. Probably. But where were they? The cafeteria? The old music room? I always brought my own lunch just to avoid the cafeteria. I took out my phone and stared at it for a good minute, wanting to send a message but not knowing what to write, who to send it to, if I should explain what had happened. But then it buzzed and I got a message from Sarah.

-Sarah: We’re in the old music room. Come when you’re done.