Free Project Pallid by Christopher Hoskins Page B

name as soon as they were
exchanged. If they were at all relevant, I knew I’d have a chance to hear them
again. My focus was fixated on Catee that morning. Well, mostly. I cautiously
kept a small percentage of it on Justin, too, who’d stepped closer to the
circle to stand behind her, like a gun-toting farmer who’s sensed a wolf in his
flock. His eyes said what his mouth couldn’t. I looked away, but my feet held
firm.
    “Sam,
this is Damian. Damian, this is Sam.” We shook hands in formality. “And this is
Mara, Tristen, Sarah, and Audrey,” Catee’s finger moved around the tightly
clustered group, giving faces to the list of names spat.
    “Damian.”
I answered. “My name’s Damian.” I smiled and waved to the group.
    “We
were just talking about the game this Friday,” Audrey clued me in. “We’re all
going to watch Ryan in his tight pants. Are you into that?”
    “What?!”
My face cringed. “Tight pants? Ryan? Gross! I’m going to throw up!” Not only
did I not care about watching
football players, I could’ve cared less about the game, and I had only disdain
for the guy who was somehow the focus of their adorations. “That guy’s a total
loser. A GIANT douchebag.” I would’ve landed myself in instant hot water had
any of them actually known him, but they didn’t, and I was off the hook.
“NO.” I added. “I’m not going to the game, and I’m not supporting a group of
a-holes.”
    Each
of them looked horrified by the sudden vehemence of my response, and they
looked to each other to be the voice of reason that would pull me into the high
school norm. Catee spoke before the rest.
    “I’m
with Damian on this one. Ryan’s gross, and he’s a bit of a prick based
on what I’ve heard. Being massive doesn’t make you a god, and I’m pretty sure
he’s small everywhere else. His humongous ego is just his way of compensating.”
    The
group looked even more alarmed by Catee’s response than mine, and they said
nothing in trade; they didn’t have the chance to before chaos erupted.
    Without
warning, Justin leapt from behind them with a sucker punch that landed square
into my jaw and snapped my head sideways. It happened so fast that I didn’t see
it coming, and there was no chance to dodge it.
    It
reeled me two steps backward, and I stood with my mouth in my hand, looking up
at him and trying to set myself right.
    That’s
when Catee made her attack.
    She
slugged him right in the face.
    And
it wasn’t one of those girly slaps either. This was a full-on, fist-clenched,
knock-out-style punch, square to the nose. She’d gone for the kill.
    His
hands rose to deflect her spiraling arms, but the blows rained down, and he
could only play defense in a girl-on-boy fight, in front of half the school.
    “What
did I tell you about coming near me! What did I say about messing with my
friends! Why don’t you just crawl into a corner and die!” she screamed and
struck again. Arms spiraling, her blows were relentless and angry.
    And
when the pummel of fists subsided, Justin hunkered with his arms cocooned
around his head.
    “Get
the hell away from us!!!” Her words rattled the quieted lobby.
    “But
Catee—
    “Get
the hell away!!!!” she screamed again, at the top of her lungs.
    “But
I—
    She
shoved him back. “Don’t ever come near me again!!! You’re an asshole, and I
don’t want you near me or any of my friends, ever again! Get the clue and get
lost!!”
    By
that point, the front office had cleared. Secretaries, who’d been punching
passes and signing in students, leapt to their feet. Armed with the full,
administrative team, they vacated their desks and rushed to join the lobby’s
riotous turmoil.
    “What’s
going on here!?” Mr. Smithson demanded. Catee and Justin had already separated,
and his stance between them was cautionary, but unnecessary. Justin wasn’t
about to counter with an attack on her.
    “The
both of you! In my office, NOW!” Mr. Smithson