Cool Kids [p. parker] || SLOW UPDATES

EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT
( LACK OF IMPULSE CONTROL )

THE FOLLOWING WEEKEND WAS filled with Nichols going to the Shabbat morning service on Saturday with his mother, followed by a nice meal and a day filled with games all while the teenager stayed off of his ankle the best he could; Sunday was similar, where he went to the morning church service with his dad at the Baptist church he went to regularly – First Baptist Church, such a typical name – and the afternoon wasn't filled of much of anything. Late afternoon, Marty and Anita came over to see Nick, but that was about as interesting as the teen's weekend got.

It was a reason he was looking forward to actually going to school that Monday. He'd be away from his mother's worries of possibly hurting his ankle again. He'd be away from his father's bitter speeches about Spring Central's soccer team, more specifically Number 22. Though, the food service from both parents was nice, so he'll definitely miss that during the week. What he wasn't looking forward to, were the upset stares from various upperclassmen and teammates, and the fake concerns about his ankle from kids he's never even talked to, and the few teachers who thought they knew every little thing about the sport scrutinizing the game.

He really didn't want to be at school for those things, yet he was forced to go to the hell hole anyway. Nick tried to whine, beg, plead, and act more hurt than he actually was to try and get his parents to agree to let him stay home. It was no use. Both adults saw through his fake pain and neither were putting up with the young teenager's whining. Nick even tried to make Sharon and Dan believe that he had suddenly had the flu – it was flu season after all – but they both rolled their eyes and informed their son that he was going to school no matter what since he wasn't actually sick.

Nick limped down the school hallway and ignored anyone he could, making his way towards his locker. Anita was running late and Marty woke up puking at three in the morning, so Nick had no one to rush to converse with after getting the books he needed. There was Peter Parker and Ned Leeds, but the short boy didn't feel like intruding on their conversation. There was Olivia Green, but he had no idea where her locker was and he didn't want to annoy her by texting her. There was Harry Osborn, a sophomore, but Nick didn't exactly feel like walking through the sophomore flooded hallway just to talk to a guy he barely knew for about two minutes. There were his teammates, of course, as well; though, he didn't want to know how upset they were about losing. Nick shifted on his feet as he pulled out his phone to text Anita to see how close to the school she was, all the while making sure not to put too much weight on his hurt ankle.

But then his phone slipped out of his hand as suddenly hands were gripping his shoulders and shoving him harshly into the lockers. Nick's eyes widened in shock, and close to everyone in the hallway looked in his direction at hearing the loud sound of a body hitting the lockers. It didn't take long for Nick's shocked expression to turn into a harsh glare once he looked up. Frank Wentworth. Of-fucking-course.