Good Boys Never Lie

Chapter 8: Good Boys Deal with Divas and Hateful Uncles

Thierry's POV

Readers, if there's anything that this self-proclaimed nerd and "Good Boy" can tell you about when it comes to school, it would be this. Sometimes it pays to be a nerd while other times it can be a living nightmare.

It's hell on earth when you're at a typical all-American high school that values sports and being involved with school pride instead of valuing education and treating the "outcasts and lost causes the teenage social ladder" as they belong in the dump. And one's especially unlucky with the bullies, he or she has two choices: try to tell a teacher or student and risk being more a target after being called a "jealous liar" by the principal before being forced to make peace with your bullies (who will take your torture up a notch), or suffer in silence and let the bullying get you to the point of either suicide, homicide, or a mental breakdown that would place you in a straitjacket and a rubber room.

Now I'm not saying that all schools- public or private- are like that, folks. Mine was just that times a hundred thousand. Thankfully, I kept my mouth closed and my chin up. But I digress.

Anyway, it does pay to be a nerd when you hit the jackpot at a school where bullies are virtually nonexistent (haters, yes; bullies, no) and the teachers treat you like any other person. And throughout my first day of classes at Sammons Falls Academy, all the students seem to take interest in me and my future plans.

"You're planning to apply to TCU? I have a sister who's a cheerleader and studying law," one guy commented during AP Physics. "She's on the dean's list for three years straight and wants to make it for four."

"Young man, I know some professors over at USC who can offer you a tour of the campus," my philosophy teacher commented. "Why stay in Texas when you can have all the schools fall at your feet. With your grades back in your hometown, you might have all the schools fighting for your acceptance."

One African-American teacher's aide came to me with her sister and sat me down during break. "Child, you lucky to have your goals straightened out early," she said. "I got a niece attending Columbia to study pre-med as my husband's boss's daughter is at Yale Divinity School to be a priest and his daughter attends BYU to study engineering. And they weren't as prepared as you were. And in eighth grade, no less. You got balls, kid. Keep your eyes on the prize."

Now, I wasn't one to put on any airs or stuff like that. But in a way, I was starting to be a celebrity.

Only one thing got me bothered: Matt Rosseaux-Yanez. He was in the same classes as I was and all the teachers insisted that I sit next to him and let him tutor me in a few subjects (and vice versa). Of course, he remained a gentleman and we kept it cordial as I reminded him that we were just roommates and nothing more. But something kept telling me that he had everyone wrapped around his finger and treated him like he ran the place. I figured that he was the headmistress's kid, so it was probably just that factor. But there was something else that I couldn't put my finger on. It was like...there was magic in the air and everyone's not who they seem.

But it wasn't my place to ask. All I came here to do was get my education, graduate, and keep my head down and away from the drama.

****************

"Mr. Thierry Lemieux?"

I looked up from my lunch of a simple salad to find two underdressed young women giving me knowing smirks. Judging how they were looking at me, I had a feeling that they were the kind of girls to stay away from (or, knowing my uncle, wanting me to marry one or both of them). "That would be me," I said. "Can I help you?"

"It's him," the stripper-blonde-haired woman said to her companion (an equally beautiful woman with skin the color of milk chocolate). "Name's Kylie Ambrose and my dark-skinned friend is Crystal Lincoln. And we've been meaning to talk to you, newbie."