Blessing Avenue: Chapter 1 (Patreon)

Sometimes I get philosophical when I'm dealing with the jocks, especially when I'm holding one of them by the ankles, suspending them over a toilet. This is what my dad calls a "swirly", but seeing as how he's old I can't hold it against him for knowing such a corny name. Anyway, the reason for my getting all Socrates-like is this: a bully is someone who preys on those who are weaker, right? Well seeing as how I'm preying on the bullies who think they can pick on my friends, does that make me a bully? I don't think so, and neither do my friends. Maybe I'll take a class on it when I go to college because questions like that make me think.

As I started to lower the jock to apply the famous swirly to his hair, he had the gall to put his hands on the rim of the toilet. "You better let me go, Kevinson!" the jock said, which led me to wonder why in hell people think using someone's last name is more effective than their first. Whatever. I moved one hand from his ankle to his head, pushing it down under the water. He put up a pretty good struggle, no surprise there, and I had to grab both his ankles so he wouldn't boot me on the head. He was thrashing around pretty good, so I kept him under for a few more seconds before I flushed the toilet. The sputtering sounds that came from his lips were music to my ears and gave me a serious case of deja vu.

I lowered his legs about halfway down towards the floor then just released them, and I took a step back to enjoy the ballet of awkward flailing of feet as he struggled to regain his footing. It was hard to believe this clumsy waterlogged Neanderthal was our so-called star quarterback. Then again, I guess I could believe it since I turned down the coach's offer to join the team. Wouldn't have been fair anyway, since I have advantages no one else has in our school.

When Manny—the star quarterback—finally stood up to face me, bangs dripping over his hate-filled eyes, I calmly leaned up against the bathroom sink, arms folded across my chest. I knew Manny wanted to kick my ass, but I also knew he wasn't about to try. Manny, like all bullies in Trinity High School, was scared of me. If he'd known I was there when he was picking on my Algebra tutor, he'd have left him alone. But Manny didn't know, and that's why he had a soaked head.

"You're gonna pay for that, Kevinson," Manny said. It was an empty threat, and we both knew it. He was a big guy—six feet and two hundred pounds worth of broad shouldered, barrel-chested muscle. He was the type of guy I'm into, if you know what I'm talking about. Compared to me, though, he wasn't anything special. I was three inches taller than him and fifty pounds heavier. I had that kind of body that could one day win a Mister Universe competition if I gave a damn, but I only cared about two things. One was protecting my turf.

"I'm not going to pay for anything," I said. "Now piss off or I'll use a toilet that hasn't been flushed for awhile." As a matter of fact, there was one the next stall over. So we stood there, staring each other down, waiting to see who would blink first. I was getting all geared up to humiliate him some more when he looked away and stormed out of the bathroom. Mission accomplished, I gave Manny two seconds to get the hell out of there and checked on my long mane of red hair, then left the bathroom as well. Naturally, Manny was nowhere in sight.

"You shouldn't have stepped in like that, Izzy," my tutor said as soon as I entered the hallway. Remember how I said there were two things I cared about? Joshua was the second one. And here he was, complaining about my rescue. That's gratitude for you.

I shrugged. "He shouldn't pick on you." I said, stating the obvious.

"I can defend myself," he said, picking up his book bag by the shoulder strap.

I tried my best to suppress a smirk as I looked him over. Best friend or not, Joshua was close to five-seven, probably a hundred pounds lighter than me—hell, my forearms had more size to them than his biceps—and he dressed head to toe in black. Today's outfit was a long sleeved turtleneck, a black jacket, and black jeans that flared out at the hem, covering up his boots. Personally, I thought he was overdoing it with the Goth look, but at least he wasn't wearing the eyeshadow today, though he was still pale as a skeleton. Would it kill him to get some sun?

"Okay, how can you defend yourself?" I couldn't help the sarcasm in my voice, as I just had to hear this one.

"I can avoid making eye contact with him and keep my head ducked down," he said, looking down at his black shoes. To anyone else it would've looked like a demonstration.

"I'll still keep watching out for you," I said as I started to walk down the empty hall, casually drumming my fingers against the lockers as I moved past them.

"Why?" Joshua asked as he followed alongside me, looking up at me with a frown. I smiled as I noticed a trail of water droplets on the floor tile, the thought of a drenched Manny distracting me from having to answer Joshua's question the first time. Unfortunately for me, my best friend was a persistent little guy, so he asked "Why?" again.

"Why not?" I asked in reply, knowing full well that answering a question with a question pushed his buttons something fierce, but I couldn't help it. Joshua was my best friend, but there were times I just had to tease him. Most of the time I did it to get him out of his mousy attitude, but other times I did it because of his mousy attitude.

"That's not an answer, Izzy." My answer made his frown grow more...well, frowny. I thought it was completely adorable, which was another reason why I loved pushing his buttons.

"Yeah, I know," I said as we reached our destination: Fourth Period Study Hall. I ignored the stares of hormone-filled girls who would love nothing more than to convert me, and Joshua was being ignored by the same crowd of girls. They thought he was weird and creepy, but maybe if they actually tried to get to know him...or maybe if he weren't so damned anti-social...well, they'd find out he was an okay kind of guy.

Ah, who am I trying to fool? Joshua was weird, but he belonged to the other end of the spectrum of guys I'm into, so I was able to see through the anti-social tendencies and fall for the real guy underneath. There was just one big roadblock to the path of my healthy young teenage lust: He was only into girls. They made his body react to them in the same way guys caused my body to react, the only difference being he did his best to cover up those reactions and I did my best to act on those reactions. It was a sucky situation for me, seeing as how I was in love with him, but what could I do? I'm not the kind of guy to pull the "If you haven't experimented, then how do you know you're not gay?" crap, because you either know your sexual preference, or you're in denial. And unfortunately for me, I knew Joshua was not in denial.

Speaking of situations, the one in Study Hall was always my personal favorite next to lunchtime. The room was the bandroom, which was large and soundproofed by these panels stuck to the wall. I didn't know what they were made of, but it seems there were always new pockmarks on the surface from the pencils people threw like darts. Some people have no respect for public property. Anyway, the soundproofing made it difficult to listen in on other people's conversations, but not impossible. Especially when they were talking about Joshua or yours truly; I always did pay extra attention to those conversations. Today was an exception—no one was talking about either of us—and I was almost disappointed. I enjoy a good ego stroking as much as the next guy, so I did the next best thing to eavesdropping on conversations—I started one with Joshua, who was writing something down in one of his multiple series of notebooks, glancing every so often at a musty smelling old book with fragile-looking pages that were discolored yellow from age. The whole thing looked ready to fall apart, and the way Joshua handled the pages, I don't think I was far off from being right. "What're you doing, Joshua?" I asked, casually propping up my feet on one of the tables up against the wall.

"Writing stuff in my notebook," he said, not even looking up. He was always like that, so focused on what he was doing that I could have run around the room naked and he wouldn't have noticed. Maybe one day I'll try that.

"What kind of stuff?" Like I said, I couldn't help but poke at his mousiness. It’s practically a hobby of mine nowadays. Hey, I saved him from a bully. The least he could do was let me interrogate him.

"Stuff you wouldn't be interested in, Izzy." I have to admit, his patience with me is why we've been friends for so long.

"Tell me, I might surprise you and be interested." Stranger things happen in my life all the time.

Joshua paused in his writing, and I could hear the barest whisper of a sigh. "Are you interested in the history of Witchcraft?"

I gave it some thought, and then shrugged. "Guess you were right. Now, if it were about the history of Tantric magic, I'd be all over it."

"Told you so." He went right back to writing in his notebook.

What a smartass. It was another reason why we've been friends for so long. Sometimes he manages to tone down the ol' Izzy Ego.

The rest of Study Hall was boring. Joshua was being less talkative than usual, so when the end bell rang I was ready to get out of there. The only reason I restrained myself was for—yup, you guessed it—Joshua. He never failed to be the last one to leave a class, and I never failed to stick by him.

"What're you doing after school?" Joshua asked, his eyes darting around, taking in everything in sight—so much for ducking his head down to avoid predators. It was yet another reminder of how he would be a mouse in his next life. I know it sounds cruel, but dammit I hated how he was so skittish. You'd think having a best friend watching his back would give him some confidence. What more could I do?

"Not much, why? Do you need a ride somewhere?"

Joshua gave me a nod of his head. "To Candleworks."

Another wave of deja vu hit me even though I'd never heard of the place, and when Joshua explained to me what kind of place it was I unconsciously rolled my eyes, but he failed to see it since his eyes were darting over to a blind corner in the hallway. Did he think there was going to be something lurking around it? Probably. "What's over there?"

He shrugged, not making eye contact with me. "I just want to see what they have in stock," he said. "I might find something useful."

So after school was done for the day I drove him to that Candleworks place. What are friends for?