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Henry
Eighth grade
The chatter from the cafeteria flooded out into the hall where we were in line. We got out of class late because Victoria couldn’t wrap her one brain cell around the teacher assigning us a team project.
“Dude. What is it with Victoria?” Ethan kicked the carpet covered bench between us and the wall.
Wally shrugged. “She’s a pain in the ass.”
“Mr. Barron, language.” Our English teacher glared at us from the outside of the line.
“Miss Minks. You can’t tell me I’m wrong.” Wally flashed her a smile, and she sighed, shaking her head with a tiny smile on her lips.
I looked around the hall where they had us line up. Art decorated the walls along with awards.
Excellence in education, my ass. I couldn’t wait to be out of here.
My friends were talking about football as we neared thecashier. The lady sitting there looked like we kicked her dog every day. Gray hair, short in the grandma style, pruned up wrinkled face, and she sounded like she’d smoked since she was a kid.
I handed her a fifty and watched her roll her eyes. “Is it necessary to bring in such a large bill every day?”
Shrugging my shoulders, I smiled. “It’s what my dad gave me.”
“Pfft.” she snarled as she made change, handing it to me and then accepting money from Dexter.
We walked through the line, taking a tray filled with questionable food and entering the main cafeteria.
Pete lifted his tray, pointing to a small blond sitting alone in the cafeteria. “What’s the deal with the sixth grader in our algebra class?”
Wally laughed. “Worried she’s smarter than you?”
I shrugged. “Who cares?”
“Really, Pete?” Ethan shook his head. “She hangs around Henry’s cousin.”
“You know you don’t have to keep pointing out that Vivian is my cousin.” I set my tray down on the table where we’ve always sat.
“Dude.” Pete picked up his burger. “Rumor is she’s smarter than all of us put together.”
Dexter threw a fry at him. “And?”
I’d seen her around, and she never spoke. Even when I’d come across her on the trails, she sat alone with a book.
She reminded me of an old doll I saw at an antique store called Holly Hobbie. Her dark blond hair almost looked brown in the dim lighting of the lunchroom.
I watched as Vivi walked over to her table and sat down. Holly Hobbie looked up, then looked back at her lunch.
My friends’ voices thundered in the large room, mixed with laughter and groans. We were the cool guys. The group the loser kids wanted to be like or be a part of.
“Henry, I’ll give you ten bucks to tell her ayour mamajoke.” Dexter smiled.
Wally blew milk out of his nose, laughing, and I shook my head as I shrugged. “Yeah. Why not?”
I didn’t need the money. Having more money than god was all my mother ever bragged about. However, this would bemymoney. Not from my parents.
We cleaned up and took our trays to the brick wall where the return station was.
Port Stella Pirates. Argh.
