He's Got a Love Like Woe - [Slash]

Chapter Four - The Popper

Puck Cainly

"I still say we ditch him," Caleb mutters mutinously as we hurry to catch up with Becca and Jesse. Somewhere in our conversation they'd gotten way ahead of us. The pair appear to be deep in conversation, heads bent together and whispering. Occasionally, Rebecca lets out a loud burst of laughter. When they were are ten feet ahead of us, we slow our pace.

     "I told you, no." I mutter, keeping my eyes on Jesse's beanie. It bounces with every cheerful step. He's so gay.

     "Listen, man. I get it. I get you. You're the hero type."

     "I'm not--"

     "Yes, you are." Caleb looks at me, smirking a bit despite his serious expression. "You've been doing it since we've been kids. Taking random, weird people under your wing."

     "Name five."

     "Nasty Nelson." He says immediately, nodding as we walk. We look both ways, then cross the street.

     "Who?"

     "Nasty Nelson, second grade. He picked his nose and wiped it on the back of his chair and yet you still hung out with the guy."

     "You all were so mean to him!" I protest. "I couldn't just let him become a social leper!"

     "A what? Never mind. Anyways, number two: Avery Kate."

     "She was pretty!"

     "She wore these huge, Coca Cola bottle glasses and had a gap the size of my thumb." He sticks up his thumb to emphasize point, looking at me. "The size of my thumb, Puck. Number three: Harley Mitchell. Seventh grade." 

     "She was...nice." I say weakly.

     "Yeah. If you're fond of the smell of piss and unibrows."

     "Now you're just being mean."

     "Remember that guy in freshman year? Peter Lark? Yeah, he's number four. Wouldn't speak a word, and you still became friends with him."

       Peter had moved at the end of the year, but we still kept contact. I glare at Caleb and he puts his hands up in a "no offense" motion.

     "And Jesse's number five in a series," he concludes. "The nose picker, the nerd, the girl who wet herself in middle school, the mute, and now, the faggot."

       I slug him in the shoulder, hard though he barely feels it. "Stop." I say loudly. Jesse throws me a concerned look over his shoulder. I give him a small smile and he turns back around, smiling also.

       When I look at Caleb again, he's giving me an injured look. I'm immediately guilty.

     "Sorry, dude. I just don't like that word."

     "You didn't mind before." He pouts a little. Caleb likes to pout.

     "Yeah, well, I do now."

     "Because you have a crush on him," Caleb mutters darkly. I pretend not to hear as we approach the school.

       Dartington High is a tall, looming series of brick buildings. Three stories high, the first and second levels for students. There's a seperate gym and stadium with a soccer and football field and a track run. Whatever that's called. I'm not really the jock type.

       We cross the busy street (first day of school traffic). Knowing Jesse and his antics, I head up front to grab his wrist and drag him with me.