Perfect Prefect (Cashby) COMPLETED

A-Grade A-Holes.

ALAN'S POV
Our Music class was lead by a god, at least in my eyes. Mr Wentz was a cool teacher but not in the way that he got kids to call him Pete or used 'hip' language. He just was a bit unique and I admired that.
Some people didn't.
They had skulls thicker than his eye-liner.

Austin and I walked in, I slid my bag off my shoulder and sat on the ground.
The school was cheap and wouldn't provide more than like, $15 towards the arts.
The painters at the school were treating the leftover tubes like they were their own blood.
There were no desks or anything but a whiteboard.

"Okay Class!" Mr Wentz said, standing at the front of the room, trying to get our attention, "I'm gonna take the attendance then tell everyone about today's class."
He went through the names quickly, tapping them into his laptop. Muttering that "off course Aaron was away". We'd both had Mr.Wentz before and had somewhat bonded over our taste in music. Meaning it was good music.
Anything was better than girl singing to out-of-time electronic beats.

"Okay. Today we aren't gonna start making any music." Mr Wentz said, shutting his laptop.
There was a collective groan from the class.
"We are gonna start with just a documentary because I had a late night last night and if I don't sit down I may die,"
He rolled a TV, because there wasn't a smart-board or projector in the music room and began a clip called 'Music Through The Ages'.
Judging by the usual length of the school documentaries and the 30 minutes of class we had left I knew we won't get to the introduction of Rock and Metal music.
I sighed.

"What's wrong Fag?" some jock whispered to me,
"Fag? Really? You had all summer to come up with something more insulting."
"But you are a Fag. A little gay fag."
"Judging by how close you're sitting to me you might be a little gay."
"Pardon?"
"I mean, I'm a little gay. Literally I'm like 1ft tall but you're almost sitting on my lap."
"Ew. Fag. I'm not gay. Never. Especially not for you."
"I'd go gay for me."
"Stop with this back-lash. You are a fag."
I was silent.
"You are a useless fag, your only use is to be picked on and put in your place. Which is 6ft under."
Okay, he got me.
I'm stronger normally but I guess I'd hadn't been exposed to this for quite a while.
I started to cry.
F*ck off tears.
"Go to hell Fag!"
The bell was about to ring. I could wait out music class and skip maths.
I pulled my hoodie up and refused to retaliate. It would make him angrier and he might hit me.
"Emo sh*t. Don't cry, pretty boy."
The bell rang. I got up and tried to swing my back pack onto my back but those a-grade a-holes caught the strap and pulled me to the ground.
Kick.
Kick.
Kick.
Run off.

Nice move. Cowards.
Alan. You are a coward.
But I'm the best type of coward, I'm the reasonable coward.
I tell myself this: Backing down is not being a wimp. It is just a strategy used to delay a reaction, and sometimes all you need is a delay.
A delay in a bearing is all you need to catch someone's wrist. A delay in some insults is all you need to slip some headphones in.
The only backing down I refuse to do it die.

I lay for a minute then pulled myself up, walking to my locker.
I heard someone speaking;

"Would you mind leaving Ashby alone?"
"Why do you care Carlile?"
Austin? Why the f*ck did he care. I thought that he'd stop trying to befriend him if I acted hostile. I'm gonna need to step it up. I won't start conversations but I don't want to sink to the popular-kid levels and ignore him.
That's really rough on your self-esteem.

Austin stopped speaking for a second, he was probably think the same as me.
Why did he care?

"I won't let you give anyone a hard time, him included."
"I'm gonna trust you aren't a fag Carlile and let him be for a bit."
"Thank you."

I heard footsteps and bolted, with my bag hoping that no-one saw me.
I wasn't crying but I felt like it.
F*ck you Austin.
I don't like people to feel sorry for me.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
So I'm satan and haven't updated in forever.
Sorry.
-M