Rating: PG
You usually don’t like to concern yourself with these sorts of things, but the kid was so little and fragile-looking. Even from down the hall you could see that he was terrified, shrinking back against the locker, like a little boy quaking in fear of the school bully. Which he was, you supposed.
“Don’t you have enough lunch money?” you asked mildly, making both Larry and the kid jerk in surprise. The little one looked ready to flee. Larry looked annoyed.
“What do you want, Oz?” he asked.
You shrugged. You wanted a lot of things, really. “I was thinking you could let the kid go.”
“Why would I do that?” Larry stepped away from the boy and walked up to you.
You raised an eyebrow. “You’re on school grounds. Could get caught. Another detention and you might get kicked off the team.”
Larry frowned. “Fine. Whatever.” He glared one last time at the kid (still cowering) and walked away. Logic: gets them every time, you thought.
“You okay?” you asked, approaching the kid, who appeared to be holding his breath until Larry was out of sight.
He twitched. A skinny, blond, blue-eyed underclassmen- freshman, you thought at first, but no, more like a sophomore. “Why’d you do that?” he asked, looking nervous. Kicked puppy, you thought. Kicked repeatedly.
“Seemed like the thing to do,” you replied. “I’m Oz.”
“I know,” he said quickly. “You’re in my art class.”
Huh. You looked at him a little more closely. He looked vaguely familiar. Vaguely. It occurred to you that maybe you should make more of an effort to go to art class.
“I’m Andrew,” he added.
“Hi,” you said. Andrew. Again, a vague sense of familiarity. “What are you doing here so late?”
“Sci-fi club meeting ran longer than expected. Another argument about which Star Trek was the best.” He rolled his eyes. “Some of them like the original series the best. Whatever. Everyone knows TNG is far superior.”
“Right.” You smiled. Andrew was charming in a geeky sort of way. You liked that. “Do you need a ride home?”
He looked at you, surprised. “Yeah. My mom never showed, so. Thanks.”
“Come on.”
Andrew followed you out to the parking lot, towards the van. “So. Um. Thanks for rescuing me or whatever. Back there.”
“Sure. Larry’s not so bad if you know how to deal with him.”
“Really?” Andrew said skeptically.
You paused, grabbing your keys. “Well, theoretically.”
Andrew smiled. He had a nice smile, you thought.
He was mostly silent as you drove him home, only speaking to give you directions. When you pulled up to his house, all the lights were off. The van idled in the driveway as Andrew gathered his things, slowly. “You sure you want to be here?” you asked.
He laughed bitterly. “I’m sure I don’t.”
“We could go somewhere else,” you offered. Where, you didn’t know, but Andrew looked sad and you wanted to fix it. Make it better, somehow.
“I shouldn’t.”
“Okay.”
He got out, stopping just short of closing the door. “Thank you. Again.”
“No problem.” It’s not like you wouldn’t see him again at school, you thought. Art class. You’d definitely start going to art class. “See you.”
“Okay.” He smiled.
You waited until he’d gotten safely in the door before you pulled out of the driveway.
*
You didn’t start going to art class and you never saw him in the hallway. When you did see him, he was hanging out with that vaguely creepy Warren guy, and except for the occasional shy smile he never spoke to you again.
You tried to get your hair his exact shade of blond, but it didn’t work.
A few months later you met Willow. Shy, geeky, and kind of pretty. Not that you have a type or anything.
It’s all in the past, you know, but sometimes you still kind of wonder. There’s not much else you can do here in Mexico City besides sit in the shade and think. Anyway, there’s no way that guy that just walked past was him.
You’ve heard of coincidence, but that’s going a bit too far.
End