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Chapter 9

Ashton only has about a hundred nicknames for Michael. Even I have a nickname for Michael.

"No, he doesn't," Michael lied.

"Oh," Elliot said. "I understand, man. It's okay."

As Mr. Howell started to pass out the supplies, I wrote in my composition book. My introduction, the procedure, the task, materials needed to perform the task... Howell put the box of cubes on the desk, and just as I was about to reach them, Elliot quickly snatched it.

"I'll calculate the mass," Elliot said, grabbing a few cubes. "You've got the volume, Michael."

Michael grabbed a few cubes from the box and started to calculate each cube's volume. I watched as Elliot calculated the mass on the scale. Michael and Elliot were each doing their own thing, and I sat there, hopelessly watching.

"Erm... What...what can I do?" I asked softly.

Elliot looked at me, and his eyes narrowed to a glare. "You can sit and watch, queer."

I nodded, not saying a word. I pretended to write in my notebook and tried my best not to cry right then and there.

"Don't call him that," Michael said.

"I'm just messing around," Elliot said with a smirk. "Besides, the faggot doesn't even react."

I'm just trying my best not to.

Michael's eyes were icy, which fit their grayish hue. He glared down at Elliot, and he repeated the words through clenched teeth. I found myself frowning—a part of myself didn't want to believe that Michael was sticking up for me. It was evident that he was, and I was mad at myself for not being able to know if I should feel happy or confused.

"Don't fucking call him that!" Michael growled. "I'm gay, for goodness's sake, and you call him a faggot? What the fuck did Luke ever do to you? Huh? I might as well remind you that a faggot is a bundle of sticks. Does Luke look like a bundle of sticks to you? You need to get your eyes checked."

Elliot snarled at me. He looked back at Michael, a firm look on his face. "And why are you sticking up for him, eh? He might as well not even go to this school. He just sits in class and does nothing. He's not even important!"

"He's important to me," Michael said.

"You know," I croaked out, "it's perfectly fine if I don't do anything. I mean, no one needs me anyway—"

"Shut up, Luke," Michael said, turning to me. "We need you for this experiment. Here, you can calculate the density and buoyancy." He grabbed the box of cubes from Elliot's desk and handed them to me. I didn't do anything for a moment. I could only stare at Michael in awe.

"Thanks, Cliffo," I said with a smile.

Michael's eyes turned back to a light green, and he flashed a big smile at me. "Anything for you, Hemmo."

Elliot grunted. "I thought you don't like people calling you nicknames."

Michael turned back to Elliot, but he didn't glare. He had a mischievous glint in his eye, but he refrained from smiling.

"Only my best friends are allowed to call me nicknames, and you, sir, are most definitely not my best friend."

✘✘✘

"Have I ever told you that I wish Michael was in this class?" Ashton asked me.

"Only every day," I replied.

"Well, I wish Michael was in this class."

"I'm sure you do."

Ashton and I sat on the bleachers at the far corner of the PE field, waiting for the incredibly long day to end. Ashton wasn't practicing for cross country right now because he and the varsity team are going to run after school. I wasn't practicing with the regiment because tonight's football came had been cancelled due to rain. It felt good having another day to relax, but I knew that my fingers would be cramped up next week.

Ashton and I sat in a comfortable silence, and I saw some people coming towards us. James Cabral and Francesca Barlow came up to Ashton and I hand-in-hand, with Killian Gordon right behind them. The three stopped in front of us and smiled. To me, James and Francesca were an interesting couple. They were both valedictorian, but then there was James who was one of the nicest people you will ever meet, and Francesca was not afraid to come off as mean. But they really liked each other, so I guess their relationship was okay. They were really cute together, I'll give them that.

"Hi guys," James said with a smile on his face. Killian only smiled, not greeting, and Francesca looked at us expectantly.

"Hi," Ashton said happily. I only gave them half a smile.

"Hey, Luke," Francesca said, "can you do something for me?"

My eyebrows furrowed, and before I could speak, Francesca continued. "Can you go get Rylee for me? I think she's mad at me."

Wouldn't it make more sense to patch things up yourself? "Okay."

I got up from the bleachers and I made my way towards Rylee. She was dribbling a basketball on her own in the court, as Mr. Bailey hadn't come yet. I didn't know what to do, so I just happed her shoulder.

She stopped dribbling and turned towards me. "Oh, hi, Luke."

"Hi. Um, I think Francesca wants to you."

Rylee cocked an eyebrow. "What does Frannie need?"

"She said you were mad at her? I don't know."

"Well, I'm not mad at her," Rylee said with a shrug. "Hey, have you finished the pushpin book?"

"The pushpin—? Oh, Paper Towns. Yeah, I finished it."

This time, Rylee stopped completely and paid her full attention to me. She had the basketball under her right arm, and she rested her left hand on her hip. "Is it any good? I've been thinking of reading it."

"It's one of my favorite books," I told her.

She smiled at me. "I wouldn't think that a boy like you would read something by John Green."

"A boy like me—?"

"You're really unpredictable, aren't you?" Rylee asked me, putting the ball down. "I mean, your appearance is fierce. You've got the lip ring, band t-shirts, ripped skinny jeans, and worn out Chuck Taylor's. But then people get to know you, and you're one of the nicest people on the planet, I swear."

"What?" I asked.

"I TOLD YOU! I TOLD YOU IT'S GOOD!" I turned around, and Killian and Francesca were racing towards us. Ashton and James weren't too far behind, coming towards us at the sound. Soon enough, Ashton was by my side, and Francesca was laughing hysterically.

"What happened?" Rylee asked Francesca.

Francesca only smiled, and she made a heart with her hands. "Ryluke forever! I ship it!"

Ashton's eyes widened, and he quickly turned to glance at me. Rylee seemed mad, as it was offensive to be shipped with me. Well, thanks, Rylee. There were so many things happening at once—Francesca, Killian, and James were chanting "Ryluke," Ashton had a frown on his face, Rylee was trying to get her friends to stop, and I stood there. I was never one to burst something out. I usually kept to myself.

It wasn't until I unintentionally yelled out "What the fuck?!" when I knew I would never hear the end of this.