The Ferocious Five

CHAPTER FIVE

Beau Witherspoon

Albany, New York

I can’t say that I have gone through much. I guess what I mean is that I’m scared. I’m rather used to having one teacher teach all subjects that having multiple people scares me. Middle school in America is very strange to me…

I used to live in England; my mum and I moved here about a year ago. I’m still getting adjusted to the school system. It was the first day back after summer vacation. “Mum–I really don’t want to go to school.” I said, “Why did we have to move to America?”

“Beau, you know this,” she began, adjusting my collar, “Ever since your dad left, I had to find a new job. There were better jobs here than where we lived, sweetheart.” She kisses me on the cheek, “It’s going to be okay.” We drove up to school, and immediately kids began pointing at Mum’s car and laughing.

I wanted to stay inside the car, but I had to go. I didn’t want Mum to be late for work.

Kids were staring at the way I dressed, laughing at the fact that I’d wear a specific uniform for school–overalls, dress shoes, and a white button-up. I sat next to the teacher’s desk, which didn’t feel any different from my old school where I often sat next to a boy that I’d find interesting. Despite being a male myself, I had an interest in other boys.

Specifically my type was anybody who was nice to me.

There was a tall boy who sat to my left. He looked stunning! I couldn’t stop staring at him, but I had to keep my eyes to myself. It was hard to tell if he had the same feelings for me. By the end of the day, I found myself sitting next to him on a bench next to the school gates. I glance at him a few times, to which he looks at me and goes, “What’s up?”

I didn’t want to reply at first, but I felt the need to, “I-I-I just thought you looked very handsome.” I blurted, covering my mouth afterwards.

“Handsome? Are you–do you have feelings for me or something?” he stands up.

“Wh-what?! No! I just figured a compliment would be nice to give.”

The boy chuckles, “You’re so weird. Just get away from me!” He runs off to what seems like his father’s car. He then points at me again and says something to his father–to which he gives me a weird look. I guess having different opinions is frowned upon in America…