Freaks of Greenfield High

Freaks of Greenfield High (Chapter 9)

Freaks of Greenfield High

By Maree Anderson

Chapter Nine

The crowd flowed around Tyler like there was a force field shielding him from physical contact. No one spoke to him. No one made eye contact. He might as well have been invisible.

Before Homecoming, he'd been star pitcher for the baseball team, and a top-scoring basketball player. He'd been one of the jocks who'd ruled the school. Girls had pulled all kinds of stunts to get his attention. But after the Vanessa debacle, he'd been demoted to a kid on the fringe who didn't fit in anywhere.

If he had spoken up, defended himself against the lies and rumors, maybe he'd have kept some of his friends. Hell, he might have even knocked the god of jock-straps off his pedestal and shown Shawn up for the piece of scum that he was. But for Vanessa's sake, Tyler had kept quiet. At least, Tyler had convinced himself it was for her sake. Just like he told himself he'd done the right thing, and didn't give a crap what anyone else thought. Now—too late—he understood that by keeping it all locked up inside him, all he'd done was enable Shawn and Vanessa, and alienate most of his peers.

Greenfield High's current social structure was based around cliques. Sad and unimaginative, but true. And because Tyler had been one of Shawn's crew—and a douche-bag to any kid who wasn't one of Shawn's crew—when he fell from grace, it was one monumentally big-ass fall. Tyler became a freak, a jock-god accused of something so heinous, not even the jocks had been able to stomach him anymore. Everyone had their place. Everyone knew their place. And after that one incident, Tyler's place was at the very bottom of Greenfield High's social order.

At first it'd felt weird being invisible, but he'd gotten used to it. Plus-side, he didn't need to check in with anyone. He could do what the hell he liked. Downside, he didn't have anyone to watch his back. And at this school, life was tough if you didn't have someone on your side.

Tyler didn't want to drag his sister down with him. He made himself scarce rather than put Caro in a position where she might have to choose her brother over popularity. She had enough problems looking out for herself. It was no box of chocolates being on the cheer squad and keeping the likes of Bettina happy, while not losing who you were, and what you stood for. Caro somehow managed to walk that ultra-thin line of being popular, while not succumbing to the temptation of acting like a stuck-up bitch.

Tyler respected that about her. He'd never managed to walk that line. It'd been easier to treat people like crap.

Pity Caro's run of luck might soon be over. And, just like Tyler, she wouldn't fit in with any of the other existing cliques. Mind you, knowing Caro, she'd just form her own. Budget Fashionistas. Yeah. He could see it now.

The grin faded as he steeled himself to run the gauntlet.

Over lunchbreaks, he usually hung out in the music room. Mr. Whaley didn't have a problem so long as no one else had scheduled the room for practice. On the rare occasions Tyler did venture into the cafeteria, he sat way down the back, far removed from the food cabinets and even farther removed from what little natural light pierced the grime-layered windows. It was smart to avoid the prime tables—especially ones with an unbroken view of the lunch queue, from where Shawn would cast his eye over potential girlfriends, and Bettina's squad would loudly critique clothes and makeup, hairstyles and personal attributes, with such consummate viciousness they reduced less resilient girls to tears.

Today, Tyler dared the cafeteria, dared to be noticed, and worse, dared slide into a seat at a prime empty table, right up front. He tried to appear completely unconcerned. He seriously debated leaving Jay and Caro to it—they would manage fine without him—but he didn't want to miss the fun. Unfortunately for his rapidly waning daring, his sister and Jay were nowhere to be seen.