I'll Protect You (Re-Edit #2, 2016)

Don't turn your gym coach's hair pink--it's bad luck

Plus, I remembered thinking what kind of eleven-year-old struts?

I replaced the mop for a worn-out broom and a portable bin. Little Demonic Cross had known that I was one of those rare scholarship students and had kept an interested eye on me for the first season. Until, of course, my name didn't place the top one-hundred testers. Ever since then, we've been at odds, and our problems evolved from disappointing test scores to even bigger grudges (such as the fact that I accidentally punched him in the face once). 

Yes, it was an accident. Don't give me that look like you don't believe me. 

When I arrived back on the track, there was no one running laps like before--everyone was on the field. Was practice ending early? Either way, no one was on the track, so I began to sweep it, pushing the dirt into the portable bin. After getting about halfway through the track, I saw the team beginning to leave. 

Ah, so practice did end early. 

I quickened up my pace, not wanting to stay for longer than I had to. Honestly, who ever wanted to be one of the last people leaving school? 
In another ten minutes, I was completely done with sweeping the track. My eyes did a quick scan of the stadium, searching for obvious messes. The student body was pretty good at keeping their campus clean, though, and since I couldn't find any conspicuous mess-ups, I figured I was good to go. 

I was putting the broom away when I heard two different tones of laughter erupting from the stadium. I shut the storage door and headed back to see what was going on. 

There were two boys walking through the fields, black trash bags in their hands. When they saw me, they roared my fake name and made wild hand gestures to beckon me over to them. The closer the three of us, I realized it was James Mayfield and Josh Bakerson heading to me, two-thirds of the Unholy Trinity, and two of Logan's closest friends. 

"Talk about an unpleasant surprise," I said, approaching them rather slowly when the distance between us shrank.

"Good afternoon, Alex," Josh said with a spitefully gleeful smile on his face. One of his most famous habits was to run his fingers through his messy brown hair, which was what he did after he spoke. 

"There's this invention called hair gel, Jeremiah," I pointed out. "I think I'm going to buy some for you. Or maybe a comb."

"It's Josh," he snapped before the smile returned. "Is the Finch not so chirpy today? Was Coach being unfair again?"

"What the hell are you two doing here?" I sighed. Normally, I enjoyed their antics. It was a great way to pass time and it was great entertainment to see a couple of boys try so hard to annoy me. Today, though, I just wasn't feeling in the mood. "Like you said, I'm not in a very good mood. I'm actually late for something and if you don't have something important to say, I'd like to leave."

"You're late for something?" James spoke up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips and my blood ran cold. James was the most popular out of the three. With jet black hair and eyes as blue as the Mediterranean, girls swooned at his feet. Out of the Unholy Trinity, James had the most hatred for me. 

Which was why suspicion prickled my skin when I saw his smile. James Mayfield doesn't smile around Alex Finch. 

"It'd be too bad if you were even more late," James mused. He and Josh began untying the trash bag and horror hit me. 

"No," I groaned in defeat as both boys dumped the contents of their bags out. Plastic cans and bottles tumbled out from James' bag. The moment the interior of the bag was empty, he began kicking the items on the ground around, scattering the objects around the field.