Make Your Own Damn Sandwich!

Drew Tirde

Oh, the joys of high school. Hot chicks, football, and...calculus? What the fuck?

"What the fuck?" Matt exclaims behind me, looking over my shoulder to see my schedule. "How the hell did you get to calculus?"

"Shit, man, I don't fucking know. Satan?" I reply, scowling at the piece of paper in my hands.

"It ain't all bad, I guess," Matt says, smirking. "I heard the teacher's got a great rack." 

At that, we heard a scoff from behind us. I turned around, seeing a chick. No, not just a chick. A total babe.

"How you doin'?" Matt doesn't waste any time, leaning his forearm against a locker and moving towards her, effectively cutting off any chance of her escaping. Real smooth, Matt.

She didn't seem to be intimidated, though. Just thoroughly pissed. "I'd be better if you got your hairy gorilla arm off of my locker," she said, rolling her eyes and inspecting her black-coated nails. "Well?" She asked, looking back up at Matt. "Would you like to move?"

I stifled a laugh at how Matt's face fell, causing him to quickly look back at me with a scowl. He put his arm down, moving back slightly to allow her to open her locker. She seemed unphased by our blatant stares, adjusting her green military jacket and re-positioning the black pendant around her neck before turning to address us.

"You," she said, fixing her gaze on me. I smirked back at her, raising an eyebrow. "My dad wants to talk to you." Wait. What?

"Who might your dad be?" I asked, my eyebrows furrowing.

"Coach Shale," she replied easily, making Matt mutter expletives under his breath. Coach made sure to let the entire team know that his daughter was off-limits at the beginning of practice yesterday, which made sense now that I knew how hot she was. 

"I'll get right on that, babe," I said after a moment, giving her a small smirk.

"I'd like to get right on her," Matt scoffed under his breath, rolling his eyes and sulking as he leaned against a locker.

The girl clenched her jaw, pursing her lips and clenching her fists as she slammed her locker shut and started walking away. Before she was very far, however, she turned and gave Matt a withering glare (never before have I appreciated what good eyeliner  can do to a girl's bitchface).

"What a shame," she cooed sarcastically, before turning and strutting away, her black Doc Martens clunking down the linoleum hallway. Before long, one of her friends caught up with her, saying something that made her throw her head back and laugh. She responded with something (I presume) equally as witty, before the two of them turned and looked back at us. The boy she was walking with winked and blew a kiss at Matt and I, making her laugh even harder.

"Damn," I said, letting out a low whistle as she walked out of sight, meeting up with more of her friends at the end of the hallway.

"I know, right," Matt replied, "How did Shale manage to create that?" 

"Sperm game strong as fuck," I replied, making him laugh. 

*

I strolled into Calculus right as the final bell sounded, one eyebrow raising as I saw the girl and boy from earlier chatting with a few other girls, both of them sitting at the back of the classroom with lazy grins. The girl caught made eye contact with me, and she nudged the boy, pointing at me and then letting out a burst of laughter.

"Are you sure you're in the right class, jockhead?" the boy sneered at me, a cocky smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.

"We'll see, faggot, we'll see," I chuckled, sitting on the other side of the room where a few boys from the football team were already creating a ruckus.

I heard a loud gasp come from the girl, as the boy raised his eyebrows in mock surprise.

"Oh, the pain of a generic insult! I'm wounded!" he shouted in mock hurt. 

I rolled my eyes at his dramatics, facing the front of the classroom and looking at the board. That is, until, my view was blocked by the girl, her hands slamming down on my desk and her eyes filled with rage.

"Listen here, you little shit," she growled, making the boys around me go quiet. "I can handle the blatant misogyny you and your little ape friend showed me earlier, it was probably your pin-sized brains being knocked a little too hard in your helmet that caused it. But I will not let you call my friend such a derogatory, meaningless insult!" she ranted to me. "If I ever hear you say that word again, I will personally get you kicked off the team."

Now most of my teammates, not knowing who she was, saw this as an empty threat, and began jeering at her as she stormed back to her seat, letting herself be calmed down by her friends. I, however, knew that she could do it. Something told me this was the start of something I didn't know if I could finish.