A Stone's Throw Away (Short Story)

Part one

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"Good God, that's awful," Joseph paused fixing his locker, already dreading the confrontation. He turned to face the speaker anyways, trying to school his features into something as unannoyed as possible. There was a beat of silence, and then Joseph recognized who the kid was all at once. It was Jack Alinimo, a walking James Dean character, wearing a leather jacket and his feathery black hair slicked back, but not slicked back too much. Alinimo was distant, an enigma who spokein the most pretentious way possible and this was the first time he had ever acknowledged Joseph's existence.

"Who did that?" Jack drawled, looking cool as ever; if he hadn't spoken, Joseph wouldn't have guessed he was anything but amused.

"Uh- just- just somebody... I'm not entirely sure who, if I'm being honest." Joseph shoved his hands in his pockets. "Its fine," he added lamely.

Jack squinted past him at the writings on Joseph's locker dubiously. "I don't think it is man. You can file for harrasment, right?" Jack fished a cigarette out of his torn up bag and lit it nonchalantly. None of the passing students seemed to notice, or care. Joseph merely shook his head and turned back to scrubbing off the foul phrases on his beaten up locker. He felt Jack's eyes still on him, apparently not taking the hint this conversation was over.

It didn't take long for Joseph to just give up on cleaning it, choosing to grab his bag and head to the principal's office instead. Jack looked startled, but hurried after him, surprisingly able to keep up the pace with Joseph's long legs.

They wound around the hoard of students, Joesph with his hands in his pockets and his head down and Jack stomping through in combat boots, like he not so much owned the place but was ready to call it his in a hostile takeover. It was weirdly similar to how having a bodyguard must be; if somebody so much as looked at Joesph, Jack stared them down.

"You realize I'm going to the principal's office, right?" Joseph asked. Jack blew out a puff of cigarette smoke before responding, "Yeah. I'm coming with."

"Why? I don't need an escort."

Jack snorted, probably the most unattractive thing about him. "Don't be stupid. I'm going to make sure you get justice, because," he stepped aside to do an exaggerated bow, "chivalry is not dead."

Joseph rolled his eyes, but didn't tell him to leave.

The principal's office door looked no different than a classroom's door, wooden and resting on delicate hinges, but it still seemed to loom over them in all its intimidating professionalism. There were voices coming from inside so Joseph gestured loosley to the waiting chairs. Jack took one and Joseph took the other closest to him.

In movies, doors would swing open dramatically to reveal the villain, a broad shouldered man with fire in his eyes. Joseph never thought something like that would ever happen, but the door did swing open violently indeed, courtesy of Jesus Conigua, a skinny hispanic kid with an undercut like Jack's, only with too much gel. His friend, a shorter kid in a basketball jersey followed behind with a smirk on his face. Jesus stared at the door, almost dumbfounded, but his friend whooped and they both started laughing.

"Oh damn miss, I'm sorry," Jesus called back at the office. He spotted Jack. "Yo did you get that on your phone?" Jack grinned and Joseph saw how hard he was trying to keep from cracking up. "No." Jack sounded genuinely disappointed.

"I got that on Snapchat, dont worry," the kid in a basketball jersey piped up. Jesus slapped him on the back and nodded at Jack. "Tia says you're in charge of dinner tonight a-hole." Jack rolled his eyes but said "Yeah sure," as Jesus sauntered off.