"Well, the prodigal student returns." Mr. Furlong says as I enter the classroom. "Welcome back to the land of academics, Zeke."
At the back of the classroom, seated at one of the lab tables, Casey looks up, surprise written on his face.
I suck at my cheek and just give Mr. Furlong the finger. It begins.
There’s a collective of gasps from the students.
"Very funny, Zeke." Mr. Furlong says, narrowing his eyes. "Take your seat. We’re doing labs today. Casey’s your partner."
"That’s the rumor." I grumble gruffly. That gets a few laughs. I snort and head to the back of the class, copping as much attitude as I can manage. I sit down next to Casey, doing my best not to look at him, and to appear as heterosexual as possible.
Casey, for the most part, is trying to ignore me as well. He’s hunched down, scribbling in his notebook.
"Okay, class, settle down." Mr. Furlong says. "Playtime’s over."
"When do we get to blow shit up?" I ask, putting my feet up on the desk. "‘Cause if that ain’t involved, I’m taking a nap."
Casey glances at me then, his eyes wide. "What are you doing, Zeke?" he hisses.
Mr. Furlong frowns. "Funny, Zeke." he says. "You want to blow stuff up, you do it on your own time."
"But I’m taking an interest in my education, sir." I retort, my voice laced with sarcasm. I glance over at Casey and grin. Being a shit is fun.
"Well too bad, Zeke." Mr. Furlong says. "This is an expensive school-funded lab. We won’t be blowing things up today."
"Now, you’ll all find at each of your stations a worksheet with the instructions for the lab we’re doing today." he says. "The sand/salt lab, for lack of a better title. Basically, we’ll be mixing salt and sand and you get to separate the two."
"Did you know this was an ‘expensive school-funded lab’ Case?" I ask loudly, elbowing Casey conspiratorially. "What the fuck’s this shit? Salt and sand? Why don’t we just cut coke with baking soda? It’s way harder."
Casey bites his lip, trying not to laugh. A few rows up, Stokely glances back, raising one eyebrow and smiling slightly.
Meanwhile, at the front of the classroom, Mr. Furlong is starting to get upset. "Would you like to come up here and teach the class, Zeke?" he asks. "Since you seem to be bursting with comments today, you might as well make yourself useful."
I laugh wickedly.
"Okay Mr. F. You’re on." I say, getting to my feet. "Salt and sand. . .hey, if I’m teaching, who’s gonna be the class shit disturber?"
Stokely snickers and Casey stares at me with a mixture of awe, disbelief and possibly a bit of concern on his face. Though I could be making that last bit up. . .
Mr. Furlong narrows his eyes. "Zeke, you are one step away from a trip to the office."
"What?! I’m participating!" I insist, feigning indignation. "I nominate Casey. He’s got it in him. I know it."
I make sure I don’t look at Casey when I say that, and head towards the front of the class.
Mr. Furlong crosses his arms over his chest, frowning. "Zeke, I’m warning you. Enough mouthing off. Take your seat."
"I thought I was teaching, sir." I respond, trying to look innocent.
"You’re not funny, Zeke." Mr. Furlong says. "Sit down."
"I don’t think he expected you to actually take him up on his offer, Zeke." Casey mutters.
"I know. But you don’t want me as a lab partner. I suck." I mutter back.
Casey looks startled. "Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?"
"Zeke, sit down." Mr. Furlong says. "I won’t ask you again."
"‘Cause you’ll try to be nice and fuck yourself in the process." I hiss, but I sit down anyway. What the fuck is going on here? I should be mooning the class and getting my ass thrown out by now.
"Thank you." Mr. Furlong says. "Now, if there will be no more interruptions, I’d like to teach you people."
He begins to explain the fundamentals of the lab. As he’s talking, Casey is busy measuring out the salt and sand and dumping them into a beaker. He mixes the two together and glances quickly at me.
"So. . .um. . .are you okay?" he mumbles, looking back down at the beaker.
"Don’t let it settle too much. It’ll pack down and then dissolving the stuff will suck." I say, eyeing the beaker. "I’m always okay, Case."
He glances at me. "You weren’t in school for a week, Zeke." he says. "I. . .we. . .Stokely and me. . .were worried about you."
He clears his throat, nervously reaches for a beaker of water and ends up bumping his hand against it, knocking it over. "Shit." he hisses.
I set the beaker right side up again, frowning at Casey curiously.
"Maybe you should worry less about me and more about yourself." I suggest as I refill the beaker, determining that this sand bullshit is an insult to the intelligence I pretend not to have. "I got the crap kicked out of me. I didn’t want to show up at school looking like I’d gone three rounds with Tyson. That’s all. And I don’t give a shit."
"I’m fine." Casey mumbles. "Gabe had already determined a long time ago that I was queer and besides it’s a daily ritual to beat up the geek."
He frowns at the beaker full of sand and salt. "This is retarded." he mutters. "Too bad Mr. Furlong didn’t let you teach class. Might’ve been interesting."
"‘Cause you don’t beat back." I counter, then pour the water into the beaker with the sand and salt and start stirring it up. "Shouldn’t guys who fought aliens with scat pens be exempt from stupid bullshit like this? Uh duuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh, salt dissolves in water. Boy I’m so smart. Yeah, that would’ve been cool. I’d make all you losers call me Mr. Zeke and bullshit. Then you could tell me to fuck off, and I’d send you to the office."
Casey grins, chuckling. "Is it, like, your life’s mission to piss off as many people as you can?" he asks.
"Nah. It just seems to happen that way." I say, grinning proudly. "Okay. Salt dissolved. Now the tedious pouring bullshit."
"Yeah." Casey says, sounding distracted. He’s glancing toward the front of the class, frowning slightly and then shaking his head adamantly.
Curious, I glance in the direction he’s looking and see Stokely nodding at me and lifting her eyebrows expectantly at Casey. What the fuck is this? Some kind of secret code?
She catches me staring and smiles, nonchalantly waving before turning back to her lab partner, who’s doing most of the work.
Casey clears his throat, bowing his head as he sets up the funnel and beaker so we can do the pouring bullshit.
"Are you eventually gonna tell me what shit like that’s all about?" I ask as we start pouring the water through the filter.
"Huh?" Casey says, raising his head and looking wide-eyed. "W-what shit?"
"Never mind." I mutter, and concentrate on the lab. Whoo hoo! Sand!
I eventually get bored, and roll the filter paper up like a joint with some sand inside it. I take the opportunity to squeeze some extra water out of it, but mostly it’s just to be a cavalier jerk.
Casey frowns, looking concerned. "Zeke, what are you doing?" he whispers. He looks around worriedly. Mr. Furlong is making his way up and down the rows, checking students’ progress on the lab.
"Geez, sorry mom." I mutter rolling my eyes. I flatten out the filter though. Getting myself in trouble is one thing, but fucking up the lab and fucking Casey up in the process is different.
Casey’s frown deepens and he looks like he wants to say something, but then Mr. Furlong comes over to us. He leans over the lab table, inspecting our beaker.
"How’s it going, boys?" he asks.
"Peachy." Casey mutters.
"Yes, the filtrate is about to be distilled." I say, putting on my best geek voice. This would be way more fun if it actually WAS a meth lab.
Mr. Furlong nods, looking impressed. "Good." he says. "Very good."
Casey rolls his eyes as Mr. Furlong walks away. "Five months until graduation." he mutters. "It’s not soon enough."
"Huh?" I grunt, totally lost. What the fuck? "Seriously, what? I behaved."
"No, it’s not you." he says, shaking his head. "It’s this." He motions to the lab table with one hand. "This is a fucking joke, man. I’m just. . .tired of it."
He shrugs, looking away. "I’m tired of a lot of things." he mumbles. "Graduation means a fresh start."
I stare at him in open amazement. He said ‘fuck.’ Do it again please.
Oh fuck. I’m so dead.
"I’m, um, probably not graduating." I point out weakly. "Again."
He shakes his head, grinning. "Man, are you ever gonna graduate?" he asks. "Why’re you hanging around here anyway?"
His smile falters. "Oh. . .unless. . .Miss Burke?"
Is it just me or does he sound a little disappointed?
"That’s, uh, done. I think." I admit awkwardly. Noooo nonononono this conversation is not getting gay in the middle of science class! "Uh, I dunno. I ain’t going to college. Who fucking cares, right?"
"Right." Casey agrees. He starts idly scribbling in his notebook, keeping his eyes down on the page. I get the distinct impression he’s avoiding having to look at me.
. . .
Or maybe not me. . .
I glance at Stokely, who smiles innocently. Right. Like I believe that for a second.
"Whoa brainiac. Don’t lose me here. What are you writing?" I ask, peering over his shoulder. Wow, he’s got cute ears.
. . .
I didn’t just think that. Oh that was totally lame.
Huh, look at that! The tips of his ears turn red when he blushes. Cute.
Fuck, I’m doomed.
"It’s, um, nothing." he mumbles. "Just a stupid writing assignment for English."
"This is Chemistry class, Case." I point out. "Why are you working on English?"
"Because this Chemistry lab is a joke." he mutters as he continues to scribble in his notebook. "And I feel like working on English."
"Do you do this a lot?" I ask.
He frowns, looking confused. "Do I do what a lot?" he asks.
"Work on one subject in another class." I clarify. "Shit. Furlong. Ten o’clock."
Casey panics and flips to another section of his notebook. From what I can see of the page, it looks like Chem notes. Ahhh, clever boy.
"Everything going okay, guys?" Furlong asks.
"You’re attracted to me, aren’t you sir?" comes flying out of my mouth before I can think better of it.
Casey’s eyes widen and Mr. Furlong takes a step back, looking shocked.
"I beg your pardon?" he says, blinking.
"What? Did I say something?" I ask, blinking innocently. Heeeey, this gay stuff REALLY sets people on edge.
. . .
Excellent.
Mr. Furlong frowns, staring at me suspiciously. "Never mind." he mutters and walks off.
Casey looks at me for a few moments. Doesn’t say anything. Just stares.
Finally, he says, in a soft voice, "Where the hell did that come from?"
"I don’t know. I get annoyed and get combative." I say with a shrug. "Besides, I’m used to flirting with teachers. Fuck, I think he might actually have the hots for me. That’s creepy."
Casey shakes his head. "Nah, he’s into Nurse Harper." he says. "He’s been after her for months."
He flips through the pages in his notebook to the page he was working on before Mr. Furlong’s interruption. "And yes."
"Yes what?" I ask. He lost me.
He grins, looking amused. "To your question about me working on one subject in another class. Geez, Zeke, pay attention."
He bows his head and starts scribbling again.
"Geez, excuse me, genius." I say with a grin. "You’re talking to one of the feeble minded here. You can’t jump subjects like that and expect me to keep up."
"Oh so sorry." he says. "It wasn’t my intent to confuse the hell out of you. At least not at the moment."
"It’s okay. I like your kind of confusing." I say. Whoosh! And yet something else flies out of my mouth. God damned weed.
"Yeah?" he says, pausing in his writing long enough to glance up and smile shyly. "I find that hard to believe."
"Why?" I respond, trying to play it cool. "You’re, like, the one person in this school who isn’t totally full of shit."
"Because you’re the rebel, the bad boy, the contradiction." he says. "Me, I’m just the geek, the school punching bag. I should charge for therapy. Had a bad day? Just give old Casey a punch and you’ll feel much better."
I smirk a little, fiddling with one of the beakers.
"Not anymore." I say.
He looks confused. "Not anymore what?" he asks. "Now who’s jumping subjects and leaving the other one confused?"
"People don’t fuck with me, Casey." I point out, scraping some of the salt crystals off the side of the beaker. "People are afraid to even look at me after I took down like four of Gabe’s jerk-off buddies. And aren’t you like, my boyfriend or something now? I’m pimping your ass, boy."
He knows that’s a joke, right?
"Yeah, right." he mumbles. "Like anybody would want me."
I just look at him. Uggggggggggggggh. Either he’s just feeling really sorry for himself, or Delilah fucked him up bad.
"What?" he mumbles, feeling my eyes upon him. "That’s the way things work around here. Once Delilah casts you aside, that’s it. Hierarchy and all that shit. Social order. It’s my fucking birthright."
"I’m not real big on social order." I say slyly, setting down the beaker.
He blinks, staring at me. "Really?" he says dryly. "I never would’ve guessed."
I turn to look at him, setting aside screwing around for the moment.
"Don’t worry about getting picked on anymore." I promise him. "I’ll handle it."
"Zeke, you don’t have to because of the rumors." Casey protests. "I mean, they’re just stupid rumors, right?"
"Yeah, but I kind of owe you for the aliens." I point out. "And I’m starting to have fun with the rumors. Just when I was running out of ways to throw people off, one gets handed to me on a silver platter."
He shakes his head, chuckling. "Okay." he says. "Thanks, Zeke."
"For what?" I ask, then happen to glance up with excellent timing. "Shit. Here comes Furlong again."
Casey snorts. "Maybe he really does have the hots for you."
"Are you jealous, baby?" I say with a grin. Whoops, okay, maybe I shouldn’t joke about that, if the thrill that just shot through me is any indication. Argh.
"Maybe." Casey says, grinning.
"Are you two done?" Furlong asks as he walks over. "You’re doing an awful lot of talking otherwise."
"Are we done, Casey?" I ask. Ooooooooooh, that doesn’t have a potential rude double meaning at all.
Casey nods, biting his lip to keep from laughing. "Yeah, Zeke, I think we are."
Mr. Furlong looks suspicious, glancing from me to Casey and then back. Luckily, the bell rings.
"Class dismissed." Mr. Furlong shouts over the din of students packing up their stuff and leaving. "Make sure you have Chapter 7 read by tomorrow!"
He shoots me and Casey another suspicious look and then heads to the front of the class.
I laugh and nudge Casey conspiratorially.
"He’s jealous." I murmur to him. He should definitely bite his lip like that again. That definitely works.
"Yeah, I can tell." Casey says, smiling as he shuts his notebook and stuffs it into his bookbag.
"Hey guys." Stokely says as she comes over to us. "Stan and I are going to the Reverb tonight. Wanna come?"
Ah yes. The Reverb. The newest, hippest place in Herrington for all the teenagers to go and hang out.
"I dunno." Casey says hesitantly.
"Yes. He’s going." I say pointedly. "Fuck social order."
"Excellent." Stokely says, grinning. "See you guys at seven then."
She winks at Casey and then heads out of the classroom, probably going to meet Stan.
Casey stares at me, blinking.
I shrug at him, trying to look innocent, then head for the door myself. I look around the hallway in my usual way, challenging anyone to start something. So I can finish it and impress Casey with my coolness.
. . .
This is getting WAY out of hand.
Casey follows me, that same disbelieving look on his face.
"Isn’t that cute?" I hear one of the cheerleaders tell Delilah. "The rebel and his shadow."
She snorts, looking disdainfully at me. "I don’t know which is more pathetic, the rebel or the shadow."
Casey flinches and tries to look anywhere but at Delilah.
"Holy shit Delilah! You’re talking!" I exclaim. "That means your lips aren’t wrapped around a cock! Wow!"
Hehehe, take that bitch.
Delilah glares at me, then chuckles, smiling sweetly. "That’s funny. You’re a real comedian, Zeke." she says. "Do you just have a fetish for losers or what? First Miss Burke and now Casey. I don’t know if that’s a step up or a step down."
"Fuck you, Delilah." Casey mutters.
"Did I hear something?" Delilah says, looking around. "Oh, no, it must’ve just been the wind."
Delilah’s cheerleader friends giggle and snicker as Casey’s face turns red.
"I thought I saw your skirt ruffle." I shoot back. "Lay off the burritos, Delilah. And no, if I had a fetish for losers, I’d still be banging cheerleaders."
Delilah lets out a huff and stalks off, her friends following along after her.
Casey shakes his head, watching Delilah walk away. "What the fuck did I ever see in her?" he mutters.
"Tits." I say flatly.
Casey blushes. "Um. I should probably. . . English class." he mumbles, motioning down the hall. "See you, um, later. I guess."
"Go ahead. I’ll make sure no one takes any cheap shots at you between here and there." I say with a bit of a nod. Ugh. English class. That is NOT going to be fun today.
Casey smiles. "Thanks."
He bows his head and hurries to English class, keeping his eyes on the ground to avoid looking at anybody. Has he always walked through the halls like that?
"Fuck." I mutter, and follow him, keeping a respectable distance. No wonder he gets the shit kicked out of him: he might as well paint a bulls-eye on his back.
