Book 1 FRESHMAN YEAR

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Chapter 2 THE BULLY

The bell rang for third period. I ran out of the cafeteria and headed for my English class - books and notes in one hand and my backpack slung on my shoulder. I knew I was late. Again. It has always been this way since I started my Freshman Year. Shit! Why did I have to finish that damn banana pie?

Just around the corner.

Other kids were still strolling around the hallways while I was praying to the Gods of Tardy People. And then suddenly, out of nowhere, I bumped onto a mountain.

"Fuck! What the fuck!" the mountain growled at me. "Watch where you're goin', Fockins!" And what a pissed off mountain he really was!

"Mockins." I mumbled irritably.

"What?" he snapped back as he was reaching for his backpack - and what I assumed to be a soaked up letter. Was it because of tears? Hmmma

"My name is Mockins, you fat pig! Not Fockins! How many times do I have to say that to you. Stop being a jerk for once, will you?" I answered bravely. I stood up and looked at him. His eyes were a bit puffy. What the fuck was that all about?

"Whatever!" he simply said.

Hmmm! That's odd. For everything that I have just said, especially calling him a 'pig', always ends up with me either punched hard or brutally shoved onto a locker. What's wrong with him?

I just watched as he was walked away and entered my English class. MY ENGLISH CLASS! Shit! I'm very late!

I ran off after him and entered English Room 1.

"Well, well, well...another late comer! What. A. Shock." The teacher mocked me, "I know that you are an exceptional kid, Mr. Mockins, but your attitude towards punctuality is unacceptable! How many times have I told you that?" Hmmmahow ironic could that be? I just said those exact words to the mountain two minutes ago. "Where are you students going off to? Late! Always late! When I was your age -" and our bitchy mid 50s professor continued rambling about her 'old days', as if she's not old TODAY. HAHA!

I went looking for an empty seat.

Nothing.

Taken.

Occupied.

Except...I sighed. Just my luck! The seat behind mountain guy was very empty. I headed towards the middle-back part of the classroom. "Shit!" I mumbled as I sat down.

"As I was explaining, before our special students came in, this term, I will pair you up and give you topics for a Research Paper. These topics will be varying from Sports, Politics, Economics, Education, History, et cetera, et cetera. And by the end of the term, I expect a more than average performance from you - nothing less!" she stressed. "Deadline of submission will be on the third week of January next year. You have exactly two months to work on the project. So don't give me excuses if you cannot fulfill this simple requirement on or before the said deadline." She paused. "Are there any questions?"

None.

"Very wella" She went to the board. "I need you to copy some things on the board, first."

She started writing about 'How to Write an Effective Research Paper' and we began our copy-the-writings-on-the-board session. I was sitting in the back part of the classroom, so the board was a good distance away from me. It was hard copying with a mountain in front of you, and our teacher's minuscule writing was totally not helping.

"Bruce? Excuse me." I nudged him with my pen. "Can you move a bit to your left? I can't see the board." I whispered to the mountain. But just like a mountain, I received no response.

"Bruce!" I said in a louder voice. He moved - TO HIS RIGHT - completely blocking my view. What a fucking dickhead!

"Bruce! Fuck man, do me a favor, please!" I pleaded.

"Shhhhhh!" some of my classmates whispered. I looked at them apologetically, smiled forcefully, and turned to Bruce.

"BRUCE!"

He stood up (thank God!), turned around (what's he doing?), and gave me the finger. (Shit! That does it!)

With unbelievable speed, which surprised the both of us, I punched him square on the nose. Fuck it hurt! But I didn't show it. He growled an agonized scream. I heard the various gasps and chattering from the people nearest us who witnessed my total epicness. "Way to go, Daniel!", "Yeah! Show him!", "Good one, Mockins!" some of my classmates encouraged me, while Bruce tended to his nose.

The teacher heard the ruckus and turned around from her writings. She saw an agonized Bruce u nose, bloody - and of course, me - standing with my fists clenched, a scowl written all over my angelic face.

"WHAT...IS GOING ON...HERE?!" she shrieked. Everyone got silent and turned to face an enraged Mrs. Elmers "I demand an explanation -"

"That fucking faggot just punched me -"

"He was blocking my view and I was just -"

We both started.

"LATER!" she stopped us with a raised palm. "For now..." she stated calmly "you will proceed to the Principal's office and explain your childish behavior." she smiled a very disgusting smile, one that reminded me of a squashed, fly-eating frog.

"But I have football -"

"But Ma'am, I still need to -"

"NO buts, gentlemen! You should have thought about the possible consequences of your actions before you started making trouble." she smiled her squashed, fly-eating frog smile again.

We sighed. "Yes, Ma'am." we both resigned. We stood up and went for the door.

"One more thing boys..." we turned around "I want you to report to me after the Principal dismisses you." We nodded.

So, now you know why I landed that punch. Why I am now heading to the Principal's office. Bruce was following a few paces behind me. He was mumbling and I caught phrases with "Bitch" in it, a few with "Mrs. Elmers" in it, and most with "Fuckin' faggot" in it. Dickhead!

Upon reaching the Principal's office, I knocked on the door. Nothing. Then suddenly,

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

"Bruce, stop it!" but he still continued his own version of politely knocking on a door. He gave it a few more 'taps', then stopped and immediately went behind me.

The doors burst open and a surprised Principal Hark stood by the doorway. Principal Hark was a guy who was already in his mid to late 30s, but it was evident that time has been kind to him. He was rather good looking and still in shape despite his age.

"Mr. Mockins!" he gasped. "What are you doing? You could have knocked my door off its hinges! I expected you to be more civilized than that!"

"But, Mr. Hark, it was not -"

"Fine. Forget it. What can I do for you, Daniel? I'm quite busy, you know and -" he stopped as he saw the bloody Bruce behind me, "Oh!"

He let us in.

"Explain yourselves." Principal Hark said as he sat behind his desk, chin resting on his entwined fingers, face dead serious. Bruce and I were face-to-face before him. For a moment, no one spoke. I couldn't seem to find the words to explain about my guilty actions and stain a very clean record with the Principal. Even Bruce seemed to be lost for words.

Finally, I found the guts and spoke up - no matter what. I didn't care anymore.

"I punched him." I stated nonchalantly.

"Well, I can see that." Principal Hark said. "The question, Mr. Mockins, is why?"

"It's just because the fucking faggot can't see the fucking writings on the fucking board!" Bruce growled at the Principal.

"Words, Mr. Adams! Watch your words!" the principal warned. "Well? What do you have to say to that, Mr. Mockins?"

"Well..." I looked at Bruce and saw that he too was looking at me. I saw fear in his eyes u as if he didn't want the principal to know that not only did he intentionally block my view, but also made a finger at me. "Well...it's all my fault, really. I never should have punched him for such a little thing. I think I just lost my temper." Then added, "But I'm not a faggot!"

Bruce snapped his head towards me u his face full of shock.

"Very well...I want the both of you to say your apologiesaandayou will serve detention for the rest of the day in the storage room." Principal Hark said. "Go on."

I stood up and offered my hand. Bruce looked up at my outstretched arm, hesitated, and then took it into his. We shook hands a mere five seconds more than what was appropriate. Bruce was not easing up on his grip u his eyes staring straight at mine. What the hell!

I feigned a cough. "Uhmm..." That did the trick. He let go of my hand.

"Oh...I'm sorry." He said. I could've sworn he was blushing. Bruce Adams was blushing!

"Very good, gentlemen! Now, I want you to go to the storage room and -" Principal Hark instructed us on what he intends us to do.

For the rest of the day, we were sorting and filing papers. No one spoke. If not for the furtive glances that I was giving Bruce, I would've convinced myself that I was alone in the room. I looked over my shoulder and glanced at Bruce's massive back. I noticed that his shoulders were trembling.

"Bruce? Are you okay?" I asked tentatively.

No response. So I went back to my work. A few minutes later, I heard him sniff.

"Bruce? Are you -"

"Please just mind your fucking business, will you?" He turned around to face me. He was a good ten feet away from me but I could still clearly see his face. He was crying. I heard him sniff once again. Well, at least I tried to help. So, that's what I did. I minded my own business.

"Okay. That's it. Time's up!" Principal Hark suddenly appeared on the doorway. "Remember, gentlemen, I don't need any of these kinds of incidents to ever happen again. Can I count on that?" The principal said with a smile. We nodded and he then returned to his desk.

We got ourselves out of his office and I walked off with my things.

"Hey! Where are you going?" I looked around. There was only Bruce and me. He was wearing a very amused look on his face. As if he just heard the funniest thing in the world. It was nearing five in the afternoon and light shining through the windows from outside was hitting his face at a certain angle which gave his usually scary and frowning features a youthful and happy glow. Shit! I have never thought of Bruce as handsome, I have not even considered him as cute. But there he was u smiling like all was well in the world u like nothing wrong could ever possibly happen. Damn! He looks like a cute, chubby prince the way he was smiling.

Stop it, Danny! Yes, he is cute! But don't you ever forget that he is still a bully - a big, fat, mean bully. Remember that he is the bully who shoves you onto the lockers every chance he gets. He was the bully who put a dissected frog inside your shoes during gym class one time, right? He was the bully who creatively splattered mud all over your weekly Science essay. He is a bully.

Do you remember the very first time you met him?

Well, of course, I do! Who'd forget something like that?

It was the first day of class and, like what happened earlier, I was running late for my class - running through the hallways like a madman. I was on the door when it suddenly opened and, before I could stop my momentum, I crashed onto HIM - Bruce.

He was carrying a hamburger and a tall glass of orange juice that time so you could only imagine what happened to his very white shirt after I bumped onto him.

"Fuck!" he yelled. Yep! That's right! Fuck! Here was this extremely huge and extremely tall guy and I just spilled his breakfast all over his shirt. His hands were very large; he could easily strangle me to death.

"Oh, God! I'm so, so sorry!" I tried cleaning up the mess I made. I looked up his face and, behind a fringe of strikingly blonde hair, noticed the bluest pair of eyes that I have ever seen on a human being. I gasped audibly. Looking into them feels like looking into two deep, circular pools of clear, fresh water.

"Well, your sorry's not gonna undo the damage you made, now, would it? And get your filthy hands off me!" He shoved me out of the way and headed for the bathroom. "Fuck!"

I later learned from a Herbert Stallings that the guy's name was Bruce Adams, and that he was sent outside because he was eating inside the classroom u which was evidently prohibited.

"Daniel? Are you okay?" the voice brought me back from time.

"Huh? What?" I asked Bruce.

"Shouldn't we head for Mrs. Elmers' officeawe were supposed to report to her after detention, right?"

"Oh, right." I replied nonchalantly.

He turned around and started walking. As I was following him, I took notice of his big, fat butt. What a turn off!

I turned the corner for Mrs. Elmers' office and saw that Bruce was already there u waiting by the door. It was such a gentleman's move. Hmmm...maybe he's not such a ba - Stop it, Danny! He's a prick! He'll always be a prick u because that's what he has always been to you ever since the first time you met him. I told myself and kept a straight face to mask my emotions.

I entered the room and went over to Mrs. Elmers' desk. She was writing something on tiny pieces of paper.

"Sit down." She said without looking up. She put the papers into a cup and jumbled the contents. "Pick one." She told us.

I looked at Bruce and he shrugged his shoulders and motioned for me to pick one. I took one, saw what was written, and was shocked at what it says.

"Well?" Mrs. Elmers inquired.

I just stood there - unable to speak - unable to move. The three-letter word kept swimming right in front of my face. Bruce didn't wait for a reply. He took the piece of paper and read it aloud.

"SEX?" I flinched. "What's this supposed to mean?" Bruce asked in a bored manner.

A sudden image of Mrs. Elmers sucking on my long, hot cock while Bruce ploughs her sloppy, old pussy with his fucker flashed across my mind. I had the sudden urge to throw up. Both of them noticed.

"Are you okay, Daniel?" Mrs. Elmers asked. Bruce looked at me, a mischievous grin pasted on his face. As if he knew what I was thinking of.

"Yeah...uh...yeah, I'm fine." I choked on my words.

"Very well. So! SEX!" She emphasized the word. I flinched again. "That will be the topic for your Research Paper. You can choose any specific topic, as long as it correlates with sex."

I just stood there. Too stunned to move, or even speak. Here we are. Our teacher just told us that we u Bruce and I u would be spending some quality time for the next three or so months talking and discussing about sex, until the whole damn paper is finished and submitted. Just meaand Bruce. Fuck! Just the thought gives me the creeps.

Why does it have to be him? Why does it have to be Bruce Adams? Off all the people in class, why him? Why couldn't it be the nerdy Jonathan Plum? At least we'll click. But, Bruce Adams? I sighed.

"Uhmm...Mrs. Elmers...are you...saying...that Daniel and I...that you're...pairing...us?" Bruce stuttered. That was a shock for me. Never in my whole life have I imagined that Bruce - a massive chunk of a guy - would lose his confidence.

"Yes, that's what I planned. Seeing that you and Daniel needed to work on youracooperationaI just think it's wise to let youaworkawith each other." Mrs. Elmers smiled her squashed, fly-eating frog smile again, which worsened the tightening of my guts. "Are there any objections?"

"Please, Mrs. Elmers! I can't work with a faggo - with Daniel!" Bruce pleaded.

"And why is that Bruce? You're not afraid of a FAGGOT, are you?" I snapped at him. Not realizing that I have somehow confirmed his claims about my sexuality.

He stood up and made a lunge for my face.

"STOP!" Mrs. Elmers was now standing up, glaring at the two of us. "You two will pair up no matter what happensawhether you like it or not! NO MORE DISCUSSIONS!"

"But -" Bruce said.

"NO MORE DISCUSSION!" Mrs. Elmers repeated.

We just stood in silence. I glimpsed at Bruce's cheerless face. He was deep in thought. I wonder what he was thinking.

Yes, Ma'am." I heard Bruce say.

Looking at me, Mrs. Elmers said, "Daniel?"

"Uhmm...no, Mrs. Elmers. I'm fine with it."

"Good! Now, that will be all. You may now leave. Good day, gentlemen."

I went out before Bruce could catch up. Shit! Good day? Who was she kidding? The only thing that made this day good was missing the boring lecture that I could have received from Mr. Douglas in History. Good day! HA!

Fuck you, Mrs. Elmers!

Fuck your useless project!

And fuck BRUCE ADAMS!

*End of Chapter 2*

 

Nerdy Jock

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