We piled out of the auditorium about an hour later and I instantly went in for the kill and totally fucking lost all nerve. Fucker was like 6'3 and built like Van Damme in Bloodsport, whereas I hadn't yet learned to shave and was built like a half gallon of ice cream with pants on. And of course everyone that said they'd back me up had fled to the back of the crowd and was anxiously awaiting seeing this guy pound me to a pile of raw burger. All I managed to muster out was a quavering "Why'd you spit on my backpack?" as he yelled "Come on you fucking pussy" over and over again in my face till a teacher approached and I let out a sigh of relief that my face would not be rearranged and got the fuck out of there with my tail between my legs muttering about the various disgusting ways I was definitely going to kill him later in the week.
Lunch time rolled around and me and my table full of fellow pussies and dorks and punk rockers (and for some reason a huge tough as shit looking black kid named Andre who barely spoke) were all discussing the previous excitement when Wetzel strolled up with his army of jocks and proceeded to taunt me and give me shit and throw food while my friend handed me a huge hunting knife under the table. I wasn't quite ready for that yet. I handed it back and stared at the floor and waited for them to saunter back to their table and spent the rest of the day playing out various scenarios in my head of me rushing over with an assault rifle and sending that whole table full of Adidas and Abercrombie straight to hell. Fuckers.
The next morning I was waiting around outside the school alone when two guys strolled up that I had never met before. The one said "Wetzel's gonna kick your ass today" and the other spit a giant snotball right on the front of my hoodie while I just stood there like a hot dog turd on a cold day. I stuffed my hoodie into my locker then went back outside and met up with my friends Jim and James. I told them what happened and James opened up the wierd circular thing on his necklace to reveal a razor and asked me who it was. I couldn't remember and was kinda glad. Jesus Christ. People in that school were fucking nuts. Later in the year another kid would try to slit another kids throat in the cafeteria with a torn Coke can over drug money. James was on his third year as a Freshman and would later be expelled for repeatedly sexually harassing a teacher. Three months later he had his GED and the next fall enrolled in community college. Fucker managed to totally bypass high school. I went out back to smoke a cigarette by the track and was approached once again but some kid I didn't know. Fuck, not again. "I hear you're gonna stab John Wetzel," he said as he quickly walked toward me with no sign of slowing. "No, man..." I didn't get a chance to finish when he grabbed me and threw me into the fence and said "What the fuck did you say it for then?" and started slapping me in the face repeatedly telling me I was fucked. And I was. There wasn't much I could do, the people out there I knew knew better than to get involved and the guy slapping me around like a housewife on Cops had his whole crew out there of guys that looked like they'd love nothing more than to remove my colon through my asshole the second I did anything in my own defense. He left after a minute or two and I strolled up to my friends embarrassed and terrified. Someone packed a bowl and they handed it to me and said "Yeah, if he's after you, you're pretty much dead." Luckily this was before I discovered Youth of Today and fully embraced straightedge, so I happily puffed away and tried for the life of me to think of some way out of this horrible horrible situation. I imagined dozens of lacrosse players taking turns curbing me outside while my parents look on in horror and confusion. I went in to homeroom with my head down and did my best to think of anything but my impending death.
The mood had lightened a little by lunch as James had once again brought a dozen donuts he had stolen from his job at Krispy Kreme and was reading us out loud pages from a gay porn mag he'd found in the woods. Soon enough a teacher came over, took the pages, instantly saw the images of dudes on all fours getting stuffed with pastrami like a Subway cold cut and escorted James to the office. Fucking James. I insantly reverted back to being mortally terrified as this was, after all, the cafeteria. The perfect place for these guys to make their move and thoroughly kill me in front of the entire student body. The girl I had spent most of the semester staring at on the butterfly machine in the weight room during gym would never know the extent of my affection. I'd never get to finish learning the solo to Master of Puppets. I would never eat another Whopper from Burger King and then piss on the floor in the bathroom. Fuck me. Suddenly out of no where Andre opened his mough for the like maybe the fourth time in the six months he'd been sitting with us. "Man, ain't nobody gonna beatcha up man. You be aight, man don't worry 'bout it man," Then he got up and walked over to the table full of hardass black kids from the city and I saw him talking to them and point over at Wetzl's table. The whole table got up and walked over, and I dont' know what was said, but I didn't hear another word out of Wetzl till like three weeks later he told me his brother was a probation officer and supposedly four girls in the freshman class had HIV so I should wrap it up. I thanked him for the info, though it was pretty unhelpful to me, and went back to lacing up my gym shoes hoping I could find something to do in the weightroom close to the butterfly machine.
