“You know, Chloe, you could always read the textbook. Might help,” Thomas whispered to his best friend, hoping his chemistry teacher wouldn’t notice the editorial.

Chloe rolled her eyes at him. “But it’s so boring,” she replied, running her hands through her short, colorful hair before returning to her ongoing struggle of taking notes. Thomas snickered.

“Mr. Swan,” Ms. Francesca called out. “Would you like to answer this question for me and the class?” Thomas froze, and this time Chloe snickered. Sighing, he slowly rose from his chair, flicking his black hair out of his eyes, and walked up to the board. Ms. Francesca was a new teacher to the school, and therefore was quite keen on laying down rules for her students to follow. Taking the chalk from Ms. Francesca’s outstretched hand, he glanced over the equations on the board and quickly balanced them. Looking behind him, he saw her smiling. “Nice job, Thomas. But do try to keep the talking to a minimum, okay?” Thomas nodded and quickly returned to his seat, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone. 

“Just because you solved a problem on the board doesn’t make you a chem whiz,” Chloe grumbled.

“You’re right. But reading the textbook gets me pretty darn close,” he replied with more than a little bit of smugness, and Chloe lightly punched him in the arm in response. He was about to open his mouth to say something else, but a sharp look from the teacher silenced any further conversation.

Once class let out, Thomas packed his ratty old bag methodically to make sure he didn’t forget anything. Once finished, he slung it onto his shoulders and looked to Chloe who was standing by the doorway, her eyes on her phone. 

“Whatcha looking at?” He inquired, standing on tiptoes to see her phone before she could pull away. He burst out laughing as they walked out the doorway, Chloe blushing profusely. “Looking at pictures of that cosplayer again?”

“Shut up,” Chloe shot back, clutching her phone to her chest. “She’s just so beautiful.”

“And… hot? That’s what you meant, right?” Thomas teased. Chloe glumly nodded her head in agreement. 

“The hottest. I’d give anything to date her.” Her glumness lasted for only a moment before she let out a giggle.

“What’s so funny?” Thomas asked in a confused tone. Chloe just grinned and looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

“You might be a whiz in the Chem classroom, but now it’s time for gym!” she declared confidently, a teasing grin on her face as he groaned in realization, and lead the way as the two worked through the crowds of the hallway. Despite the clumsiness that seemed to come to Chloe at all other times, she had become adept at dodging the hustle and bustle between periods. Thomas on the other hand was usually the recipient of several shoulder checks, dropped books, and the spillage of food or drink onto his person by another student. As they turned off into a side hallway leading to the gym the crowds thinned out, and Thomas was able to catch up and walk at Chloe’s side. 

“Nice of you to join me, slowpoke,” Chloe remarked as he joined in step with her. “I hear that for once Mr. Davison isn’t separating the boys and girls today.”

“Oh yeah?” Thomas replied, a small joy kindled in his demeanor. Mr. Davison was a lean guy who appeared to be in his late forties. Nobody was quite sure if his lack of hair was due to him being bald or him shaving it, but his scalp reflected the harsh fluorescent lights brilliantly. 

“Yeah. I’m just glad that it probably means he won’t have us do something dumb, like when we did gymnastics last week.” Chloe glowered. Thomas chuckled along with her, but he found that his laugh went only skin deep. In all honesty, anything would be better than the wrestling Mr. Davison had made Thomas do with the other boys last week. They approached the gymnasium doors, already propped open by a bright orange traffic cone with duct-tape wrapped around it in school colors. The wood of the gymnasium floor creaked under their feet as they entered. Chloe quickly split off from Thomas to head into the women’s locker room with a wave. Thomas shuddered as he looked ahead of him towards his destination, the men’s locker room. 

There were several negative words Thomas would use to describe the locker room after gym. Today, the most fitting one was ‘annoying’. Usually, he would try to spend as little time as possible in there, due to the background anxiety he felt as soon as he stepped in. He was never a fan of gym, but ever since he had to start changing with other people it had become so much worse; undressing in front of other guys was uncomfortable in a way he couldn't begin to describe. Throwing his bag into his gym locker, he pulled out his usual boring shorts and boring shirt and managed to knock his deodorant to the floor as he pulled his shirt off. Careful not to look at anyone else changing, he turned to grab it. Standing back up, though, he caught sight of himself in the mirror behind his row of lockers. The physique staring back at him looked like a pale boy about 3 years younger than he was supposed to be. He had no muscles or substantial fat to speak of, so his body was like a straight line except for the uncomfortably broad shoulders that he always managed to bump against door frames. A frown appeared on his face as he took in the reflection, and he quickly turned around to finish changing. 

God, I’m such a freak, he thought. Why do I have to look so bad? He pulled his shirt and shorts on and stepped out onto the gym floor. After doing some light warm-ups, Mr. Davison announced that they would be playing dodgeball today, boys versus girls. Normally these teams would be unbalanced, but with half the varsity softball team playing the girls more than stood a chance. Thomas groaned inwardly. Awkwardly he shuffled over to the guys’ side of the court, looking back at Chloe as she waved sarcastically. Regardless of how much of a hassle she was, he would’ve given anything to be standing at her side, instead of being stuck on a team half full of obnoxious boys who grunted loudly and shouted sexist comments at their opponents.

As Mr. Davison blew his whistle the teams ran towards the balls placed in the center of the court. Thomas watched from the back of the court as both sides sustained heavy losses and before long, both sides had exhausted their numbers down to two on each side. Thomas stood next to Ryan Vandholt, a try-hard whose technique consisted of darting around the gym, grabbing balls before the other guys could and flinging them carelessly at their opponents. The headband he wore was plainly drenched, and he had a smile on his face that screamed that this was the highlight of his day. On the other side were two girls, one from the softball team named Allison and someone who, like Thomas, had stuck mainly to the back of the court for most of the game. Ryan ran down the court and jumped in the air. At the height of his jump, he threw the ball as hard as he could at the girl in the back. It sailed through the air, hitting her solidly in the chest. There was a low chorus of pained sounds from her section of the court, and she shot Ryan a dirty look as she walked off to the bleachers. Ryan scrambled back to safety next to Thomas and grabbed the ball near his feet.

“Wasn’t that awesome, bro?!” He said with total delight. Thomas rolled his eyes.

“Yeah. It was awesome, ‘bro’,” he sarcastically responded. Ryan waved him back.

“Watch this,” he murmured to Thomas, a cocky grin on his face. Again he took off running down the center of the court, this time jumping left to throw the remaining player off. Looking at her again, Thomas remembered where this particular girl's talents lay and chuckled. Her feet planted, she held her hands in front of her in perfect parallel. Ryan threw the ball with all of his might, but there wasn’t any surprise as Allison, the softball team’s star catcher, caught it easily. Dropping back down to his feet, Ryan looked like he just missed a free steak dinner promotion at his favorite restaurant.

“Damn!” he yelled out. He started walking off the court while avoiding Mr. Davison’s glare, but not before hollering back. “Nice catch!”. Thomas heard laughs from the girls’ side of the court and quickly realized why. Chloe stepped up from the bench, the next in line to enter. As she walked onto the court in her basketball shorts and “Knights” tank top, she smiled.

“Don’t worry Thomas, I won’t aim for the face.” There were giggles from all around the court now, and it was plain to see that Thomas stood no chance against the captain and star pitcher of the varsity softball team with a more than reliable catcher backing her up. Thomas shifted his weight from foot to foot as Chloe picked up a ball, and tested its weight. Clearly having decided to make a show of this, she slowly wound up, smirking confidently. Thomas knew how fast she could throw and how well she could aim. If he moved after the ball left her hand, he would never get out of the way in time, but if he tried to move before she threw, she would just adjust her aim and still hit him easily. 

Suddenly, he felt pinpricks on his neck. In an instant, he saw several scenarios in which she hit him, no matter how he tried to avoid her, but there was one in which he managed to succeed. If he faked to the left at the exact right moment she would adjust her throw and he'd still have just enough time to dodge to the right. Before he fully realized what he was doing, he was repeating the actions he saw in his vision. It was easy, like following a path laid out before him. Small gasps came from the crowd, clearly not having expected him to dodge so easily.

I could see where the ball was going before she even threw it, Thomas thought as Chloe ran to collect another ball, I've always had fast reaction times, but maybe there’s more to this than I thought. As he looked up to Chloe, he found her still smirking, and he realized immediately that she had purposely thrown the ball at his head, hoping for such an outcome. She was testing him. Chloe and Thomas had been friends for years, and as such he had shared his odd propensity for quick reaction times with her. She found it incredibly interesting and tested it out whenever she could.

“Let’s see how long you can last, Swan!” She called as cocked her arm back. Like the last, regardless of the incredible speed she put behind it he had just enough time to figure out how and where to move out of the way. Suddenly, he felt more engaged in the game than ever before. It felt like he was flexing a muscle that hadn’t been used nearly enough. This back and forth continued for two more shots, Thomas deftly avoiding both. As she picked up the last ball on her side the court, her smile seemed to fade somewhat. Thomas readied himself, hoping that he’d finally get a chance to take a whack at Chloe for a change instead of the usual reverse. He drew in a deep breath. 

“How ya' doing, Chloe? Pitching arm getting tired?” Thomas mocked as Chloe’s brow furrowed.

She threw the ball with all of her effort behind it. Thomas concentrated and waited for the feeling of pinpricks, but they never came. He fell back as the ball pegged him square in the chest and bounced away from him. Mr. Davison’s whistle screeched as he declared the girls as the winners. The girls’ team erupted in cheers and celebration as the boys’ team sulked back to their locker room. Chloe walked over and offered a hand to Thomas, who was still sitting on the ground. Thomas sighed, and took her hand.

* * *

Thomas walked towards his next class with intense relief, glad that gym class was over. Guys were hanging all over him as he changed his clothes, obviously very interested in the display he and Chloe had put on. Usually he tried to spend as little time as possible in there due to the background anxiety he felt as soon as he stepped in.

He had to admit, as irritating as gym and the locker room was, today was better than the attention he normally got. Thomas had somewhat delicate features, particularly in his slight, lanky build and the mole on his left cheek. In the past, these had made him the target of the school’s handful of bullies, and had even led to him being mistaken for a girl. This hardly helped the situation, but for some reason, he always felt odd about correcting people. More recently, he’d developed a knack for blending in enough to the background that he usually kept himself out of trouble.

Operative word being “usually.”

Lost in his thoughts, he was suddenly startled when his elbow collided with that of another student’s. 

A very large, very angry student.

Suddenly, he was knocked down to the floor. Looking upward, he saw Tyler Monnett, quarterback of the football team.

Thomas flinched at the sight of him, remembering the several times he’d had his lunch dumped onto his chest by Tyler. Thankfully, Thomas wasn’t one of Tyler’s regular targets so he didn’t know the bully well, but then he didn’t have to. Tyler made himself known. Wherever he was, he seemed to dominate the room. In the halls it was his huge size that caught everyone’s attention, in the classroom it was his loud voice and his habit of talking openly during lessons. He was the type of guy who gave unabrasive jocks like Chloe a bad name.

“Hey asshole, watch where you’re going!” Tyler yelled. Fear ran through Thomas like ice in his veins.

“L-look, I’m sorry, it was an a-accident-” Thomas managed to blurt out in a stammer.

“Yeah, sure it was, freak. Who are you supposed to be, some faggot new kid?” Tyler leaned over Thomas, fists balled up. 

“N-no?” Thomas responded, confused about what Tyler was getting at. “I’ve been going to school here since 6th grade.” 

Tyler’s face darkened another shade of pink. “What, are you calling me stupid, new kid?” 

“W-what?! N-no no!” Thomas babbled, unable to hold his stutter. 

“You need to learn some respect and to keep your hands to your goddamn self, freak! Not my fault you’re a nobody.” Thomas instinctively raised his arms in front of his face as Tyler raised his fist.

“Leave him alone, dickwad,” came a familiar voice in a bright, clear tone. Thomas opened his eyes. It was Chloe.

“What do you want, dyke?” Thomas heard Tyler say in a mocking tone. As he lowered his arms, he saw Chloe standing between Tyler and himself. At 5’11”, Chloe stood pretty tall for a girl, and her toned muscles showed through her t-shirt as she took a defiant stance in front of Tyler. But she looked small compared to Tyler, who towered over her and had the wide frame and muscles of a male model. He ran a hand through his gelled hair, smirking, “Or did you finally come to your senses and decide that you wanted a piece of this?”

Chloe started laughing. A patently fake laugh, that nevertheless conveyed her lack of fear. She continued laughing for much longer than she needed to make her point, doubling over from a mock fit, and left a confused Tyler standing there, looking increasingly awkward by the second. A small crowd had begun to form around them.

“Oh! Oh. You were serious?” She finally replied, and proceeded to make a fake gagging sound to the giggles of the surrounding students. Tyler frowned but stood his ground. He knew that attacking the captain of another team, and a girl at that, was a nonstarter even for him. 

“Oh Tyler, are you just going to take that?” came a voice from behind Tyler and his crowd. A few people parted out of the way, some by choice, a few pushed. There stood the idols of affection of half the school, boys and girls alike. Heather McGill, flanked by her two minions Heather Sinclaire and Heather Kowalski. They looked like supermodels any day of the week, regardless of the weather. Heather McGill had platinum blond hair and icy blue eyes that could kill. Her hand was cocked on her hip, glossy red fingernails pointed outwards, her red high heels only serving to make her calves look all the more perfect. She was the image of beauty itself. Her personality, however, left something to be desired, and she could best be summed up as a bitch of proportionate only to the hydra itself. 

Heather Sinclaire stood to her right with her dark curly hair tied into a twin ponytails hanging off the sides of her head. She was wearing a light athletic jacket with “Cady-Stanton Knights” emblazoned on the back, the yoga pants she was wearing showing off her round figure well, much to the delight of her fans.

 On the other side was Heather Kowalski, the beautifully weird one. She never spoke with much enthusiasm in the class Thomas shared with her, but whenever she was with Heather M. and S. she visibly brightened like an animal who hadn’t seen water in days. Her blonde hair was delicately curled and held up in an elegant looking bun on the top of her head. No matter how hard he looked, something about her eyes spooked Thomas. She was one to stay away from if you could help it, but her looks meant that most couldn’t. Strange rumors followed her and although Thomas wasn't normally one to listen to gossip, her odd behavior and that look in her eyes made him suspect that they held some truth.

“You don’t have to take that from … her.” Heather M. said, casting a look full of daggers towards Chloe, who promptly shrugged it off. Thomas could still feel the tension in the air between the two, and wasn’t sure if it was safe for him to get up off the ground yet. With a pompous laugh, Heather M. took Tyler’s arm and started walking away from the scene before a teacher arrived. 

Before turning a corner Tyler called out over his shoulder, “Good thing your girlfriend saved you, princess. I’d hate to have to mess up that delicate face of yours, pussy!”

Fighting down the feeling of daggers in his stomach, Thomas forced himself to breathe a sigh of relief, and Chloe offered him a hand as he got to his feet.

“You didn’t have to do that for me, you know,” he said, his eyes cast downwards in embarrassment. 

Chloe smiled warmly at him. “No problem. It’s what I do.” Somehow Thomas always felt at ease when Chloe was talking with him.

“Well, thank you nonetheless. Although,” Thomas said with mock seriousness in his voice, “This had better not lead to any damsel-in-distress jokes.”

“Why Thomas, what would ever make you think I’d do something like that?” Chloe giggled. “I make no promises!”

* * *

Later, standing in the cafeteria line, Thomas looked over the shoulder of the student in front of him at the food they were serving and shuddered.

What’s a person got to do to get something edible around here? he thought. Looking down at the funk on a plate in front of him, no matter how bad it tastes he had to admit it was still better than being in the locker room or being Tyler’s target. 

Why did what he said hurt so much? Thomas wondered as the line towards the register marched on. It’s not my fault that everything feels wrong all the time.

Grabbing his food, he headed out looking for a place to sit. Chloe had a different lunch period than Thomas so he was left to his own devices this hour. Scanning the lunchroom as he walked, he only found tables that were either completely full, or were in a social class so far above his own he had no hope of finding a two-way conversation. As he walked, he was roughly shoved from behind and barely kept his hold on his lunch tray. Looking back, he wasn’t surprised to find Tyler walking past with his friends snickering at Thomas’ expense.

“Jerk…” Thomas muttered under his breath as he rolled his eyes. Sighing in defeat, he placed his lunch tray at the empty end of a table and took his phone out to watch videos while he ate. Suddenly the prickling sensation was back, apparently having rested enough since gym. This time, however, the result was different. Although she was nowhere in his line of sight, he somehow knew that somewhere behind him Heather McGill was walking straight toward a puddle of spilled juice. Unless he intervened, she would go down hard, spilling her tray of food all over her expensive clothes. But why should he intervene? Heather had certainly never been exactly nice to him in the past. But thinking about it, she had never been outright mean either. Thomas had only heard second-hand accounts from others about her. Maybe she just got a bad rap because she was a bit abrasive? Looking back, Thomas saw that he didn’t have much time if he was going to act.

Fuck me, he thought, groaning at what he now had to do. He couldn’t let someone potentially get hurt if he could help it, regardless of what kind of person they were. He found himself running to close the distance between Heather and himself. On cue, her foot stepped into the puddle, and the traction between her heeled-shoe and the floor evaporated completely. She fell backward with a shrill yelp and her phone flew into the air as she flailed in panic. In the next moment, his arms were under hers, and he caught her mid-fall. He struggled under her weight, unable to return her to a standing position. She looked up at him with starry eyes, apparently expecting to see Tyler. Her expression immediately soured upon locking eyes with him. Thomas felt another pinprick and reached up and plucked her phone from the air without looking.

“What...?” She mumbled, as she struggled to get her feet under her. A moment later she was able to find her footing, and Thomas was relieved of her weight. Most of the lunchroom was staring at the two slack-jawed. Nervously, he placed her phone back onto her lunch tray, and with a glance over to the Jocks’ table, he found Tyler slowly rising from his seat with a look of pure anger on his face. Deciding on flight rather than fight, Thomas quickly grabbed his own phone from the lunch table and sprinted out of the cafeteria without looking back. He couldn’t handle everyone staring at him like this. Like some freak.

Heather M. stood there, still in shock. “What?”