Just Rueben.

September

     "What's wrong, loser? You not gonna fight?"

     "Just forget it dude, he ain't any fun."

     "Ugh. What's with him today. Not even trying to get away. The little shit."

     "C'mon let's go. He's wasting our time. Lunch is almost over anyways."

     "Whatever."

     The circle of kids dispersed and walked back into the school with disgusted looks on their faces. There was one boy, however, that was left lying on the ground, covered in newly forming bruises and small cuts. He laid on the pavement of the courtyard with an emotionless face. He did not want to get up. He did not want to move. He wanted to be at home. Alone. It wouldn't be so bad if he skipped class, would it? He only had two more left for the day anyway.

     The bell rang, signalling for the remaining students in the hallway to scurry to their classrooms, but it took a good ten minutes before the boy even stood up on his wobbly legs. He put on his jacket to cover most of the bruises and grabbed his textbook from the fountain at the center of the courtyard. After flapping it to try to shake off some of the water, he flipped through the pages to see how badly it was water damaged; you could barely read any of it.
The boy sighed, tossing the book into the nearby garbage can, deciding to buy another later.
He grabbed the last pieces of paper off of the concrete to shove into his backpack. Leaning over one of the pages, a big drop of crimson red fell onto the paper. 

     He sighed, and felt at his wet nose. He looked down and on his fingertips was blood. 

     "Damn," he mumbled and wiped his nose with his sleeve. The boy heaved his backpack on his shoulder and walked with his hands in his pockets to his class on the second floor.

     The teacher had counted him as absent, since he wasn't there at the first fifteen minutes, and continued on with class. Two of the kids who last saw the boy in the courtyard were snickering quietly to each other, making assumptions of where the boy went.

     "Maybe he's still laying there," said the blondie, Christopher Anderson. Nothing about him was very special, except that he was a suck-up and does whatever the leader of their group says to do. He is quite weak, but intimidating when he has a pack by his side.

     "Maybe he went and killed himself," snickered the brown haired girl. Her name was Alyssa Monomi. She was one of the prettiest girls in the grade, even the school maybe, with her long, straight, and perfect brown hair, her sparkling brown eyes, and smooth olive skin. People only hang around her or think fondly of her because she can ruin your life in one minute with a few words. She's the leader of the pack that likes to pick on the kids who dislike her or are seen as weak.

     "He possibly just went home," Christopher said quietly, not wanting to think about her statement.

     "Seriously? Him being gone would make things easier-" She was cut off by the double doors to the classroom sliding open and Mrs. Senoia went quiet. All of the classmates' attention went on the kid who walked in, and Alyssa and Christopher both scowled.

     "Mr. Hayes, this is your third time being late to class. Can you explain this behavior?" the teacher, Mrs. Senoia, addressed him. The boy stayed silent, still wearing the emotionless expression he had on earlier. "I'm guessing you can't provide me with an answer. I will have to ask you to join me after school," she sighed. "Please, take your seat, Rueben."

     Rueben walked to his seat near the window of the classroom, ignoring the snickering and jests from his classmates and sat down, putting his bag on the floor next to his seat. He proceeded to just take out a pencil, and after looking through his bag, he realized the textbook ruined in the fountain was his history one. He rested his elbow on the desk, propping his chin up to look out the window, and sighed softly.