Tobias: Book One of the Cantrell Brothers Series

Chapter Forty-One

Tobias looked into the mirror, nervously fidgeting with the gray tie Jane had helped him pick out a few days prior. Its smooth, patterned texture contrasted exceptionally well against the stark white of his button down shirt that was currently busying him as he rolled up sleeves too short for his long arms. Preston's sneering face flashed through his mind just as the last of his forearm was revealed, a long, angry scar shining pink against his still tanned skin.

That arrogant son of a bitch was the main reason why he had felt uneasy when Jane had asked him about going on a double date with Karen and Alex tonight. The first one to always be honest with himself, he had to admit that he was a little dubious about the dinner, even if it was with two of Jane's closest friends.

Maybe it was because he was dirt poor compared to the high and mighty Preston McGove, or maybe it was because everything that Preston had said was true. He himself had been ranked fifty-third out of eighty-seven, just a lighter bit smarter than the drug-addicted free spirits in his class, while Preston had been at the number one seating. He was the one who did indeed sit on the sidelines with Tawson while his brothers and Preston had scored touchdown after touchdown, even going so far as to win the conference championship.

He had been so pathetic, he couldn't even classify himself into being the stereotypical nerd, for his smarts weren't all that smart. D's after C's after F's were handed back to him, disappointed and gloating looks sent his way as he had quickly stuffed the papers into his tarnished binders. Hearing snickering from behind, he remembered looking back to its source, finding Preston with a bunch of the football players.

That day had been the first time he had ever stood up for himself, and he didn't think he would ever forget.

“Hey." Malachi Nilton, a fellow student in his junior class flicked something at him.

Tobias turned to look over at the shorter boy whose arms were much more built than his own. Acting as one of Preston's most trusted followers, Malachi was almost nastier than Preston himself. “Yeah?” he asked, making sure to avoid eye contact.

“What'd you get?”

“What do you mean? I-”

“What'd you get on the test?” Preston said loudly enough that everybody's attention was now focused on him, the swell of his muscled arms giving evidence to Preston's status as star wide receiver.

Elbowing shut his English Literature binder, he made sure that the recently handed back test was safely secured amidst the rest of his other failed assignments. Hours upon hours of studying for the past week had all led up to the final result of a D+. Mrs. Wilkowsky, the language arts teacher, didn't even try with him anymore. The frustrated gaze she was sending him now was a pretty clear answer to that.

Tobias cleared his throat nervously, “I don't kn-know.”

Preston scoffed. “How can you not know? We just got them back, and I want to know what you got, dumbass.”

“Preston McGove!” Mrs. Wilkowsky slammed her chubby hand onto the wooden hardness of her desk. “Apologize to Tobias immediately! What he got on his test is none of your business.”

“Sorry, ma'am,” Preston huffed.

Tobias tried to give him his best smile, hoping that that would be enough to keep Preston from messing around with him after school. It was hard enough hiding all of the bruises on his torso; he didn't want to explain to his mom again how he had “ran into a door” like he had lied a few weeks ago. “It's alright.” He turned back around and then continued trying to take his own version of notes.