Smile, Synonym

[10] To Take A Glimpse

Class was a bore as usual. It took all of Fletcher's will power not to fall asleep midway through the French Revolution. It was an interesting topic, though it was unfortunate that it was being taught by an uninteresting person.

Mr. Patel was a nice teacher, but that didn't mean he was a good one. He liked to go into unnecessary detail and kept circling around points instead of getting straight to them. Plus, he usually dismisses the class at least ten minutes after the bell rang.

It was 3:55 p.m. when History class ended and, by that time, most of the students in Kelly High were already on their way home. So the halls were mainly empty, with the only sound being the footsteps in the distance of the other students trying to catch the bus.

Unlike them, Fletcher took his time and kept a slow pace as he headed towards his locker, which was at the other end of the hall. It wasn't like he was in a hurry to get home anyway. In fact, the later he got home, the better.

The deeper into the hallway Fletcher got, the more sounds he could he could hear at the opposite end, which was a bit unusual since this side of the school was the farthest away from the exit and bus stops. He hadn't thought much about it since it wasn't completely unnatural but, as he turned another corner, Fletcher stopped his tracks.

Because there, just a small distance away from him, was Sam Gibbins, his feet dangling in the air as Levi held him up by his collar.

Sam's back was pressed up against one of the lockers, with his books and the rest of his things scattered around the floor. But he didn't flinch — never dared to make a move — as if there was no point in doing so. As if this happened too many times for it to really matter anymore.

Levi twisted Sam's collar further. The fabric was so tight around his neck that he started to choke. "You're a useless piece of shit, you know that right, Gibbins?" When Sam quietly nodded, Levi went on. "All you had to do was not tell. As simple as that —"

"I didn't," Sam heaved weakly. "I swear —"

Sam's words only got him pushed against the lockers more. "I can't afford to fail algebra!" Levi yelled back, his words echoing in the hallway. Instinctively, Fletcher took another step closer. "Thanks to you, you son of a bitch, my dad's going to pull me off from the team —"

"I'll do your homework 'til the end of the semester!" Sam suddenly yelped, the desperation in his voice so utterly vulnerable that it made Fletcher stop once again. "Just please — let me go."

With a satisfied smirk, Levi let go of Sam's collar and Sam fell onto the ground, cough and gasping for as much air as he possibly could. "Don't screw up this time, Gibbins. And I mean it," Levi said before exiting the hall, violently kicking one of Sam's books on the way out.

For a painful moment, Fletcher watched Sam sit still on the ground, completely shaken and barely able steady his racing mind. If Sam were anyone else, Fletcher might've walked away. But there was something about knowing someone — actually having a conversation with them, even briefly, and having the moment to take a glimpse past all their exteriors — that made seeing them so rattled so unnerving.

If one thing's for certain, after all the lunch breaks and goofing around Fletcher's had with Sam back in middle school, he didn't deserve any of this.

So Fletcher headed straight and bent down to pick up the book that Levi had previously kicked, then went to collect the other remaining books and papers off the floor. When Fletcher was within his proximity, Sam whispered, "you saw everything, didn't you?"