3 - High School Gossip

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"Have you seen the bruises on his hands and face?"

"Yeah, I heard he beat up someone twice his size!"

"That's impossible, he's already a giant!"

I looked up from my locker. Two girls a year younger than me were unabashedly gossiping about the nature of Grayson Rogers' injuries, and it bothered me.

I closed my locker and walked up to them. The girls looked at me in surprise.

"And?" I asked. "Did he win?"

"Oh," the left girl said. "I don't know, I think so."

"How can you not know? Who's your source?"

"Uh..." she fidgeted. "A guy in my class told me."

"And how did he know?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

Of course. It's just high school gossip. Calm down.

But what if it's real?

Only one way to find out, I thought, as I left the girls with a quick goodbye.

Ask the source.

***

"You're coming with me to the game tonight, right?" Aria asked me during English.

"Of course," I said, eyes on the whiteboard lest the teacher thought we're not paying attention. "I promised you I would."

"I know, I know. Just checking. Also, I'm going to text you a few potential outfits tonight."

"Alright."

The teacher added another note to the board then, and we both turned silent as we copied it.

"Oh," I said when I was finished. "My car wouldn't start this morning."

"What?" Aria turned to me with wide eyes. "No shit! The tarot reading from Monday came true!"

Just an unlikely coincidence.

"Guess it did."

"Sucks for you, though. I hope the bus wasn't too bad."

"Oh, no. Grayson Rogers gave me a ride to school."

At this, Aria dropped her pen. It clattered loudly on her desk, and she scrambled to pick it up.

"No. Shit."

"Yeah."

"He didn't!"

"He did."

"What? That's insane! He normally doesn't even drive a car to school. I heard he's got this crazy mountain bike thing."

It's true.

It's what other people didn't know: Grayson Rogers taught himself how to ride a bike.

The first year the Rogers family moved to Falcon Lane, I often found myself watching through my bedroom window how Grayson Rogers tried to ride a bike.

Tried, and failed. Many times.

I had thought it strange that Grayson hadn't known how to ride one, or that his parents weren't there to teach him.

I found myself rooting for my neighbour, secretly cheering him on and wincing whenever he hit the hard concrete. But Grayson always bit through the tears, even when he was only ten years old.

And even though I was only ten years old, I admired that.

***

Grayson Rogers was sitting on the hood of his truck when I exited the school building.

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