Brandon slid into his regular parking space the next morning ten minutes before school started. It was a foggy, pale day, making his t-shirt cling to his body as he took the few steps to the entrance. He was immediately confronted with a cacophony of conversation and laughter from his fellow classmates. He smiled, comfortable amongst the sound; this was where he thrived. He craved social interaction.
"Yo! Brandon!" called his best friend, Carter King. He was jogging down the hall, grinning his trademark, ivory smile, made all the more impressive by the ebony skin that surrounded it. Carter was slim, with modest muscles that he rarely showed. He was a top student; he had a love of literature, especially Shakespeare.
"Yo, Carter," Brandon said as they high-fived, and Carter wrapped a long arm around Brandon's shoulders. "What's up, man?"
"Nothin' much. What about you?" he asked with a sly smile. "Anything you wanna tell me?" The crinkling skin around his eyes hinted at Carter's overwhelming excitement.
And Brandon had to take advantage of the moment.
"Mmm..." he murmured thoughtfully. "I can't think of anything." He shot his friend an amused glance.
"Come on, man!" he said, shoving him lightly. "You know I can't stand anticipation! Now, tell me about you and Sharon?" he said, ending in a question that was obviously meant for him to expand on every minute detail.
"Lisa and I broke up, so now I'm going out with Sharon," he said, shrugging. "Simple as that."
"Nothing with you is ever simple."
Brandon smiled, and the bell rang; people started shuffling toward their classes, and Carter was moving away from Brandon, to his first period.
"You tell me more later," he said, pointing at him as he walked backward.
"You got it!" Brandon yelled, and then he was turning to go to his math class. But he was deterred by a wall of a boy: Mike Miller, the football team's star of defense. He almost ran into him, but his quick reflexes permitted him to jump back a step. "Oh! Hey, Mike. What's going on?"
Mike just smirked, and suddenly Brandon was aware of another person behind him. He turned, and was confronted with the snarky grin of Tyler Patterson, the quaterback.
Tyler was not as built as Mike, but he was clearly stronger than Brandon, as he had learned from a past scrape he had gotten into with the boy. His hair was a shiny, chocolate brown, and it was always slicked back from his tan forehead. His arms were crossed, and he stood firmly in place.
"Oh, Tyler," Brandon said, his voice dark. "'Sup?"
"Nothin' much, Hall," he sneered. "Just wondering when I'm gonna get that money you owe me."
"I don't owe you anything, Patterson," he spat. "I paid you last week."
"You forgot the interest." And with that, Mike grabbed Brandon by his upper arms, and Tyler drove his fist into his stomach.
The air whooshed out of Brandon's lungs, leaving him breathless, and gasping. But Mike would not release him, keeping him straight and tall, so that it was difficult for him to stop panting. Tyler gripped Brandon's chin, saying, "Have that money in my hands tomorrow at the end of the day, or I'll make it so you can't even go to the bathroom without help. Got it?"
Brandon's breath hissed through his teeth as he glared at his assailant. "Go... to... Hell!" he gasped.
Tyler flushed. "Fine. Have it your way."
Another fist dug into his stomach, and Brandon's knees buckled under him, leaving him limp in Mike's hold. The giant dropped him on the gleaming tiles at Tyler's feet. He kicked him, and the pair sauntered off, leaving Brandon to choke on the air that entered his lungs in spurts. He ached, and took just a couple of minutes to compose himself, then trudged off to math.
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