Fearless (2 page)

I was just glad everyone else had slunk off to the showers so no one said anything that would make things worse. None of them would be stupid enough to mess with Liam, but I wasn’t going to be given any kind of amnesty.

“Can you give me a hand?” Liam asked.

What the effing Hell is going on?

“Uh, I, uh…. Ma– Fu– What with?”

“I tossed my briefs too far back. You’re taller than me, could you grab them?”

I may only be fifteen, but I’m smart enough to know when I’m being screwed with. “Why?”

Liam shrugged—and did I mention he was naked? “Dude, you’re like a foot taller than me. Come on, I promise they’re not crusty.”

Ew, ew, God, did he just say that?

I stepped closer to get into his locker, but he didn’t back off. It should have been hot, getting so close to a naked dude, but it was really just terrifying. The two possibilities were that either he was flirting with me or he was fucking with me, which meant there really was only
one
possibility. Take my word for it. Liam wasn’t the sort of guy to flirt with you. He’s the sort of guy who would lure you into smoking with him in the band equipment storage room where he would seduce you into doing all the things your mother told you not to do before marriage.

I told you, I’ve read the stories. I know these things.

So I reached in and wrapped my fingers around the soft cotton jumble of his briefs and told my dick under no circumstances was it to get any ideas as I felt the fabric that had snuggled up to Liam’s bits. I handed them to him and stepped back, embarrassed to see my hands were shaking.

Liam was still smiling at me. It wasn’t a mean smile either, and I know what those look like, so I could tell. I was totally flustered, which may have been his whole evil scheme. Or maybe he was waiting for the guys to file back in so he could make a big announcement.

But then, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d ever seen Liam say anything to anyone outside of his little clique of thugs and dope-heads. So I gave in to the tiny flicker of hope that he wasn’t going to rally the villagers into burning me at the stake.

“You’re an awesome swimmer.”

He said this as I finally got my trunks off. So I was standing there with my swimsuit in a sopping mess around my ankles and nothing but a towel covering me and he was striking up a conversation. I was beginning to think he was even more of a freak than
I
am. The locker room code clearly stated you didn’t chat with your fellow dudes while you were standing there naked with your briefs — that you seemed to have forgotten how to put on — bunched in one hand.

“Uh....” Yep, that’s all I had to say.

Liam laughed and mercifully put his bits away. “You smoked the other guys in your group.”

“Er.” My vocabulary had not noticeably improved.

Liam fished out his jeans and a small tin, like one for mints, fell out and popped open. Before he closed it, I saw the pills inside. That made me frown. Yes, on top of everything else, I’m a judgmental jerk. What can I say? I think drugs are stupid. As crappy as life got, I never once thought that getting high would make it better.

For the first time, Liam looked flustered. He stuffed the pills back into his jeans and then yanked them on. His smiling face had clouded over with something that might have been anger, I wasn’t sure, but he wasn’t talking to me anymore. I was okay with that, since I’d had my fill of weirdness.

I scampered off to the shower and found the coveted corner showerhead not being used—it offers the most privacy. I scrubbed chlorine off my skin with swift, agitated movements. For once, I was so focused on stuff inside my head that I didn’t even think about the other guys in the locker room.

I was pissed, to be honest. Liam had been screwing with me. He’d found the one chink in my armor that hadn’t been exploited like the others and he’d used it to embarrass me. It wasn’t like when people joked about my glasses or my ears or my skinny arms. He had joked about who I
was.
That made me hate him, and I usually don’t bother hating people who pick on me. I don’t have that kind of energy.

But Liam had crossed a line. Who was he, after all, to make fun of me for being into dudes? He was just some low-life druggie with no future. So he could just go screw himself.

I finished showering and dressed quickly. I was running late. Some of the kids from the next period came in and started changing while I was still tying my shoes, in fact. I still had to get across campus for algebra.

Coach Lancaster stopped me on my way out. I didn’t much like the guy. I mean, he was in charge of the class I hated the most. And he had never seemed to care when people were humiliating me, so I didn’t talk to him unless I had to.

“Justin, you were great in the pool today.”

A compliment? From the coach? Could this day get any weirder?

“Um, thanks.”

“I was wondering if you were going to try out for the team.”

“What team?” I asked with my usual stupidity.

“The swim team.”

I stared at him. It was obvious what he was doing. He felt sorry for me because I was such a freak and he wanted me to join a team I couldn’t screw up too badly so I could pretend I had friends. It was a nice gesture. I just didn’t understand why he was making it. Like I said, it never seemed like he cared about my stupid drama.

“Uh, no.”

“Team could use you,” Lancaster pressed.

I really didn’t know why he was trying so hard to buck me up. Did I look
that
pathetic? I know a lot of teens kill themselves. Maybe that was what he was worried about. But did I
look
like I was on the edge?

“I need to run to class,” I told him and bolted.

Chapter 2

I
REALLY NEEDED FOR PEOPLE
not to fuck with me for a few minutes while I untangled the knot of confusion in my head. My day had a routine and it did not involve flirtatious bad boys or strangely nice coaches. It wasn’t that I hated change so much as that nothing ever
did
change, so I didn’t know how to handle it.

So I was running to my class, and you can guess where that led. It was a truly spectacular fall, full of scattered books, wind-blown papers and a bloody elbow. That made me feel better—back to normal, really. I stuffed everything into my backpack and slunk into algebra just before my name was called in roll.

Things were fine until English. That’s when I had my next encounter with Liam. He came in and handed the teacher a note. Ms. Warner read it and then gave him a sympathetic look. It made me wonder what sob story he had made up to excuse his latest round of absences. Some people, I’d found, could charm their way out of anything. Me? I couldn’t even dodge taking out the trash.

“Justin?”

I looked up from last night’s homework, which I was trying to finish up before class started. I couldn’t figure out what I had done to make Ms. Warner call on me, especially before the bell rang. I hoped it wasn’t another attempt to get me involved in school like the coach had. If many more teachers started paying attention to me, I was going to get neurotic about it.

“Huh?”

“Could you come up here?”

I nodded, untangling myself from the very tiny desk. I was happy that I managed it without getting hooked and causing the whole thing to tip over. It’s happened. It wasn’t pretty.

“Yeah?”

 I eyed Liam. He was still standing next to Ms. Warner. His hands were in his pockets and his eyes were on the floor. The cocky smirk was gone, which was a relief. I won’t lie and say I wasn’t thinking of him naked. Remember, I’m a terrible person full of lustful thoughts.

“Liam needs help catching up, Justin.”

“Okay.”

No, I still hadn’t caught on to the reason I had been summoned to the front of the class where people could see me and probably make jokes about my hair or the zit behind my ear or my thrift store jeans or any number of things. I just wanted to get back to my seat in the back as quickly as possible.

“Would you help him out?”

“Huh?” I stared at her. “Me?”

It just couldn’t be a coincidence. There was no way she would just have randomly picked me out of her class of forty to help Liam. It wasn’t like I was her top student or anything. I doubt she could pick me out of a line-up. Liam had to have asked for me. That was the only explanation. I wasn’t sure why. I didn’t want to know, either, because I know what curiosity does to cats and I like cats.

I could say no. She certainly couldn’t force me to. There was no real reason for me to say no, though. It wasn’t like it would cut into my busy social schedule. But I sort of wanted to say no because I would be sending a clear signal to the bald terrorist who had decided to come after me that I wasn’t going to play his little game. I wasn’t going to be intimidated. And I wasn’t going to be bribed, either, no matter how many times he waved his bits at me. I wasn’t someone who could be bought.

“I’ll give you one hundred extra credit points,” Ms. Warner said.

“I’ll do it,” I said instantly.

Okay, so I can be bought. I need the credit. My newly-birthed GPA was already looking sickly. If that meant playing Liam’s game, then I guess I was stuck with it. I could put up with his crap for a couple of weeks until he was caught up on his assignments.

“Wonderful. Now take your seat.”

I slunk back into my nice, safe corner. Liam, of course, followed. It was like a stray dog had started following me around. I just didn’t know if he wanted my help or if he was going to bite me and give me rabies.

Class started and Ms. Warner told us to continue on with our workbook.

“We’re doing passive versus active voice,” I told him. “Page Seventy-Three.”

As he dragged his desk closer, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He was like the cover boy for Thug Weekly; with his ripped-up jeans and chain wallet, his black “Ramones” tee shirt hanging on his bony frame and that dark ski cap over his bald head. What I couldn’t see, of course, but I knew was there was his little tin of drugs. I was willing to bet he had a bag of weed on him too.

“What?” he asked when he saw me eying him.

“Nothing,” I replied.

He pulled his workbook out of a blue backpack that seemed surprisingly new. I frowned, still baffled by the game he was playing. I was on edge, expecting him at any second to make some comment about what had happened in the locker room. What was he waiting for? The urge to call me a fag just had to be burning him up inside.

English class crawled on by. He asked me questions about the assignment, but that was all the conversation we had. For the first twenty minutes, my guts were in a knot with worry. I tried to figure out what he would say and how loud and how the class would react and what I would do after I was driven out of class by being outed as a Peeping Tom.

As the time went by, though, without so much as a sadistic smile from him, another idea popped into my head. It was impossible, of course. There was just no way any human being could be that oblivious. But was there some chance he had not actually
noticed
I was stealing glances at him?

No. I told myself to not even look at that hope, much less think about it. I couldn’t afford to let my guard down. School was enemy territory. No one could be trusted. And even if there
were
people who could be trusted, Liam was not one of them.

“Hey, I was wondering,” he whispered.

I felt my nails dig into my palm. “Yeah?”
Here it comes.

“Do you have Hollister for fifth period history?”

I stared at him. “Huh?”

“I could use some help with history too. My Dad’s got me covered on math and my Mom’s going to help me with biology. But they work a lot, so I could use some help with history.”

I knew I was gaping like an idiot, but I just didn’t understand what was going on. I’d been the victim of a lot of pranks in my time, but this was one I couldn’t quite see the angle on. I just wanted him to do what he needed to do and get it over with.

“Look, what do you want?” I finally snapped.

His expression tightened and his eyes narrowed. “Hey, if it’s too much trouble, then whatever, dude. It’s nothing to freak out over.”

I was sick of being scared so I refused to back down. “Look, I don’t know what your game is or what you’re after. But I know you’re not trying to get on the Honor Roll or anything. So, if you’re going to fuck with me, can you just get it over with?”

“Why would you think I’m fucking with you?”

“Because stoners like you don’t talk to freaks like me.”

Anger flashed like lightning in his eyes. “You don’t know me, asshole. I’m sorry I bugged you. I’ll tell Warner to put me with someone else.”

He got up and went over to the teacher, leaving me to stew in my anger. Under the anger, though, I found a healthy sampling of guilt, which pissed me off. I shouldn’t feel guilty for standing up for myself. I had every right. Only I was starting to think I’d lashed out at the wrong guy.

Liam didn’t return to his seat. He got a hall pass for the bathroom and slipped out. I slumped down in my seat and fumed. It was completely backwards that
he
should be the one who got offended. Even if I was wrong—which I knew I wasn’t—it wasn’t like I didn’t have any reason to be suspicious. The guy had to know that the crowd he ran with made him look bad.

English class ended without Liam returning. That had me gnawing on my much-ravaged thumbnail. Where had he gone? Was he okay?

I firmly reminded myself that I didn’t care. He couldn’t turn this around on me. He had come after me.

Hadn’t he?

I gnawed on my nail some more. My instincts told me to just leave it alone. He was out of my hair. Even if he had not been out to screw with me, which seemed impossible, did I really want to get mixed up with some crazy stoner?

Goddamit.

I stuffed his books back into his backpack and left class. I could at least bring him his stuff as a peace offering. Then I could put this stupid Liam business behind me. I had enough problems without adding him to the pile.