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“Told you he was a girl,” the middle one says.
The third boy, a dark-skinned guy with a head of curly hair, steals my tart and shoves it in his mouth. “Mm. Oh, you didn’t want that, did you?”
“Garrett, knock it off,” a pretty blonde girl a few tables over yells out. “He’s new. Leave him alone.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Crissy. If he’s gonna fit in here, he needs to know who’s in charge.” Garrett, the blond one, turns back to me, pushing his finger into my chest. “We are, in case that wasn’t clear. You can start by handing over your lunch.”
I pull my head back slightly. “No.”
The word is out before I had time to consider it.
“No?” Garrett says, sneering. “Did you just say no to me?”
A chorus of shocked noises meets my ears. My mind races. I don’t know the right thing to do. Do I give in and offer my lunch or defend it?
“Alright, boys,” Garrett says. “Time for the newbie initiation.”
The two boys look at Garrett in confusion while I clutch my book to my chest.
“Uh, what’s that?” the dark-haired one asks.
“Jesus, fuck, Nial. Make it up. Improvise,” Garrett says.
“Oh, got it,” the third one says. “Like, just fuck him up?”
“Exactly, Ben.”
“I haven’t d-done anything to you,” I stutter out. “I just want to eat my lunch.”
Garrett pops his bottom lip. “Oh, Frenchie here just wants to eat his lunch.” He lifts his hand with his fingers pinched together. “Ooh la la la, eh uh a poo poo, I am French. Oui, oui.”
The other kids break into laughter at his ridiculous mocking. My gaze darts around, looking for escape, a teacher, or someone to save me, but all hope is lost when Nial and Ben hook their arms under mine and lift me from the table. My book topples from my grasp.
I scream and kick while Garrett laughs and eats my baguette. No one tries to help as they carry me by my arms and legs outside, tossing me unceremoniously into a huge muddy puddle, drenching me.
The three teens laugh hysterically, as if there could be nothing funnier than ruining someone’s day. Rage and humiliation grip my chest as I search the mud for my glasses. They casually walk off, followed by throngs of students.
Hot tears streak down my face. I can’t go back to class like this. I slap my hand in the mud with frustration, too embarrassed to even call my parents.
“Hey.” A deep voice breaks through my misery like the sun coming through clouds.
I look up to see the most beautiful face I’ve ever seen. He offers a comforting smile, clutching my book and rucksack in his hand. He’s wearing a football jersey too, but his sweet expression is nothing like the glares of his peers.
He has thick waves of honey-colored hair, tan skin, and the prettiest gray eyes I’ve ever seen. Are they even real? Is he?
“You okay?” he asks.
“What?”
“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”
“Oh. Erm, just my pride.”
He offers his hand to help me up, so I take it, blown away by the softness of his skin and the tenderness of his touch.
“I’m Eli Julius. Sorry I didn’t get there to stop it before it happened. I was lifting weights in the gym, and by the time I heard the commotion…” He stops with a nod.
“Thanks.” I attempt to brush the mud off of me but only succeed in smearing it on my pants. “I can’t go home like this. My parents will panic.”
