Classified

Chapter 9 - "That's me wrong for once."

Donovan sank onto the bench in the boy's locker room and stared down at his running shoes. Around him, the ruckus sound of boys filled the space.

No matter the age the locker room seemed to always be a place where the stupidity of teenage boys coalesced. Donovan felt like he was surrounded by twelve-year-olds again and it made him want to yell at them all to grow up.

Next to him, a boy matching Donovan in height had taken his shirt, twisted it around, and snapped it at another boy's legs. The victim flinched and shrank away from the pain.

When the boy wound up and flicked his shirt again, Donovan snatched it and yanked it from the boy's hold. He glared at the boy, daring him to try anything.

The boy looked like he wanted to go after Donovan, but stopped. Donovan wore a medium gym shirt where a large would have fit more loosely. The boy saw how muscular Donovan was and though they matched in height knew a fight with him would not end well.

When Donovan flung the boy's shirt back at him, he caught it and walked away.

Donovan looked to the bullied boy and realized it was Edmund, the boy Carter had defended last week. He figured if anyone wanted out of high school as much as he did, it would be Edmund.

Edmund nodded thanks to Donovan and slipped out of the locker room. As Donovan tied on his running shoes, he heard Link approach. The pair left the locker room together, stepping into a cool day. Carter stood on the outskirts of the crowd of students, stretching. When a boy walked over to her, she straightened and shot him a fierce glare.

Donovan wondered what he'd said, or if this was simply how Carter greeted anyone who interrupted her warm-up. When he noticed her clutched fists, he figured it was more than that.

"Miss Owen please refrain from assaulting your fellow classmate," the gym teacher called out.

Carter took a step back from the boy and raised her hands. As Donovan and Link joined her, they passed the boy. From his pleased smirk, Donovan knew whatever he'd said hadn't been pleasant.

"What did he do this time?" Link asked.

"Nothing," she said. "I just don't like the way his face looks."

Donovan felt the same way, some people had a face that begged to be punched. Usually, it had to do with their self-importance and a sadistic soul.

"That's usually why I get into altercations with people too," Link said.

Carter laughed her dark expression vanishing. After a week, Carter's laugh still managed to surprise Donovan. She put off such an intense dislike of the world that he thought laughter would be a foreign notion to her. But apparently under all that dislike was buried a girl who could find happiness.

"All right class!" Mr. Danes said, cutting through the multiple conversations.

The class quietened and reluctantly turned towards their teacher.

"Today," he said. "You are running a mile and then playing a friendly game of flag football."

The class let out a round of groans. Donovan didn't understand why they did, this was about average for PE. He didn't understand how complaining ever made it better.

"Okay, get to it!"

Mr. Danes blew his whistle and the class sluggishly moved into action. Carter slapped Donovan's arm with the back of her hand and nodded to an eager group of girls.

"Might want to watch out," she said.

When Donovan followed Carter's line of sight to a group of girls, they all smiled and waved at him. Though they all looked friendly, Donovan found himself inwardly echoing the groaning of the class. Almost four years at their previous high school had meant he didn't deal with this type of thing anymore. All the girls had realized he wasn't interested and left him alone. But now he had to bear through the looks, smiles, giggles, and advances yet again. He clenched his jaw, trying to keep himself from reacting badly to their attention.