Scorched

Raymond I wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror and looked at myself with a critical eye. I was seventeen, and still waiting for the puberty fairy to come and give me a magic makeover. But sadly, nothing had changed overnight. I was still too short, I still had the physique of a potato, and not even enough peach fuzz on my upper lip to bother shaving. I sighed and ran a comb through my hair. It was thick and always falling in my eyes. I needed a haircut, but I didn’t want to bother my mom about it. There were only a few weeks left of school anyway, thank God. I slathered on some deodorant and pulled on my t-shirt. That’s pretty much all I wore; oversized t-shirts and jogging pants. Very fashionable, I know. “Ray! Let’s go!” My mom yelled up the stairs. “Coming!” I yelled back. I picked up my heavy backpack with a groan. I’m not really into sports or exercise, but I should have massive muscles just from carrying around all these damn books. Yeah, that’s right, I’m total bully-bait. Not only am I the short, fat kid, I’m also a bonafide nerd. Not even a cool nerd, because I’m not a science whiz or a mathematical genius. I still get good grades in all those subjects, of course, but my real love is books. I love to read, and I love to write. Weird? That me. I jogged down the stairs and out the front door, locking it behind me. My mom was already waiting for me in the car. I have my driver’s license, and I could have driven myself, but we only had one car, and Mom needed it for work. She was already dressed in her mint-green scrubs. She gave me a tired smile as I dropped my backpack on the floor between my feet and buckled my seatbelt. I have the best mom. It’s been just the two of us since I was nine, but that’s cool. My dad was and is a total asshat. I wish my mom didn’t have to work so hard, but she never complained. Sometimes she would joke around at night and say things like, “Ray when you get rich, you are going to take care of me, right?” She was only joking, but when I publish my first book, and I get that big fat check, I’m going to buy my mom a house. And maybe a new car because this old Toyota is getting all rusty. She pulls up in front of the high school and squeezes my hand. “Go get smarter,” she says with a smile. “Love you, Ray.” “Go get richer,” I quipped back at her. We did this same thing every single day as I went to school, and she went to work at the nursing home. “Love you, Mom.” And then she drove away, leaving me with my heavy backpack on the sidewalk outside of the torture chamber known as Limbert High School. I put my head down as I trudged toward the front doors. To be honest, it wasn’t as bad as it used to be. I like to think that by our junior year, most of my bullies had matured and were busy with more important things. Making Raymond Miller miserable had gotten old and boring, so for the most part, they just ignored me. I moved through my classes like the invisible man. I wasn’t a total reject. I have a few friends. My best friend, Molly, was in most of my classes, and we usually sat together at lunch. A lot of people thought we were a couple, but it wasn’t like that. I loved her, but it was completely platonic. I slid into my seat in first period. Molly was already at the desk in front of me. Her long, glossy black hair was neatly braided down her back, and I gave it a small tug, just to let her know I was there. If anyone else had tried to pull her hair, she would have punched them right in the face. But for me, I just got a slightly annoyed look. “Did you get it done?” I asked her. “Of course.” She reached in her bag and pulled out a binder, passing it back to me. It was my manuscript, the second draft of my first full-length attempt at a novel. Oh yeah, that’s what nerdy kids like me do in their spare time. Molly was my unofficial editor. She was the only person I trusted to read my pathetic attempts, and she was great at spotting grammatical errors and making helpful suggestions. I flipped it open to a random page and observed the red pen markings and notes she had made in the margins. Molly was awesome. I stuffed the binder back in my backpack and pulled out my big, fat history textbook. Some teachers had moved to electronic textbooks that we could access on our school-issued laptops, but Mr. Bird was old school. I also prefer a good, old-fashioned textbook. “Okay class, chapter thirty-four,” Mr. Bird breezed into the classroom, ready to teach before he even set down his briefcase. I picked up a pen to take notes. About halfway through the class, a tall dark shadow slunk through the door and tried to slip in the back without being noticed. As if anyone that tall could be stealthy. “Mr. Lockhart, you are late.” Mr. Bird clipped without even turning around from his place at the board. Jackson Lockhart was the stereotypical bad boy. For some reason, I was totally fascinated by him. Maybe it was because he was everything that I wasn’t. First, he didn’t even look like a teenager. He had definitely been blessed by the puberty fairy very early. The guy was tall, broad shouldered, with bulging muscles and a constant five o’clock shadow, even at 9:00AM. He always dressed in black. Totally cliché, but he was rocking it. Today he had on a tight black t-shirt, that was sucked on to all of his muscles, and tight, black jeans that were naturally ripped out in one knee. He looked like someone had shrink-wrapped him into his clothes. And of course, he had great skin, and great hair, and the most amazing green eyes. I don’ t think the guy ever had a zit in his life. But what really sucked me in was his “devil-may-care” attitude. He would just slap on this perfect, charming smile and talk himself right out of trouble! It didn’t matter how many detentions the teachers tried to throw at him, he still did just what he wanted, like he owned the place. He rolled in late, he cut out early, he skipped classes and sometimes even missed entire days. He even got expelled once for fighting on school grounds, but he was allowed back after a week. He always had this fan club of girls that followed him everywhere, like he was a celebrity. I wasn’t going to admit it to anyone, not even to Molly, but I was one of those fangirls. Well, not a girl, but… I don’t know what it was about him. It was as if he was so much larger than life, that he had his own gravitational pull, and I had gotten sucked into it. That was the only explanation I had for my tendency to stare at him all the time. Sometimes, like right now, Jackson would look up like he felt me staring, and meet my eyes. He never said anything, he just stared back at me until I looked away, trying to pretend like I wasn’t a total weirdo. That’s the thing about Jackson. Even though he’s got this bad-boy rep, and he’s all dark and moody, he’s never been mean to me. I’ve never actually seen him be mean to anybody. That’s part of the appeal, I think. He pulled off “Bad Boy” without being an asshole. JACKSON Mr. Bird didn’t even bother giving me a detention because he knew it wouldn’t do any good. I will just show up late again tomorrow. It wasn’t that I wanted to be late all the time, but some days I had a hard time getting my little sister to school. I slid into my seat and plopped my bag on the floor, and the very first thing I did was look for Raymond. He was there, slouched in his usual seat. He turned around and looked right at me. He held my gaze for a moment, before he looked away, pretending to look at the map behind me. He blushed a little bit, and that was f*****g adorable. We’ve been playing at this staring-contest all year, but I still hadn’t gotten up the courage to talk to him. I don’t know how to explain it, but Ray is different. He’s super-smart but he doesn’t rub it in your face like other brainy kids. He’s kind of quiet and introverted, but not exactly shy. I always get the feeling that when he has something to say, he’s not afraid to say it. But he’d rather just sit back and observe what’s going on. He doesn’t get involved in the usual high school drama, and I like that. There is just something so calm and solid about the guy. He usually hangs out with that chick from the reservation. For the longest time, I thought she was his girlfriend, and that’s why I kept my distance. I thought he was taken, and he was into girls, so… but the longer I watched them together, the more I noticed that they treated each other like brother-and-sister. They never made any PDA’s or anything. I finally asked someone about them a few weeks ago. “Molly and Ray? No man, they are just friends. Why? You interested in Molly? Careful man, I hear she’s a real ball-breaker.” Nah, I wasn’t interested in Molly. She was pretty and all, but she wasn’t my type. Ray on the other hand… He had those dark chocolate brown eyes that seemed so deep and thoughtful. And that hair that was always kind of messed up. I had an insane urge to run my fingers through it and try to tame it back down. Yeah, he was a little pudgy, but I didn’t mind about that. I waffled back and forth between wanting to find a way to talk to the guy and feeling like he’s way out of my league. I heard he’s already been accepted to Blakemore Prep for his senior year. Blakemore is only for rich kids and child prodigies. I sighed and scratched at the back of my neck. On the off chance that Raymond is into guys, he’d never be interested in a screw up like me.