FLYNN BARNES
It was just another first day at another school, and the Mayville Junior High cafeteria buzzed with noise. Flynn sat alone, balancing his journal on his lap
But then he saw trouble across the room.
A boy—tall, broad-shouldered, with a cruel grin—snatched a notebook out of a girl’s hand. A notebook that looked like his own, now that Flynn thought about it. She lunged for it, but he held it high away from her as the laughter from around those who must’ve knew him grew.
“You’re seriously wasting your time writing in this?” Flynn faintly heard the boy taunt the girl. “What’s so important in here?”
What the girl said was much louder. “Give it back, Dylan!”
Flynn clenched his fist, his mom’s words booming like a warning. No friends. No attention. No record of us.
But he was still on his feet before he could stop himself.
When Flynn reached the area, he called out, “Hey. Leave her alone and give the notebook back.”
Dylan turned to look at him, with eyes narrowed, before he smirked. “Who are you supposed to be? Her knight in shining armor?” This got more laughter from those who must’ve knew him.
Flynn walked closer until he was in Dylan’s face, fists clenching tighter than before. “I said, give it back.”
For a second, Flynn wondered if he had just made the dumbest decision of his life, thinking that Dylan was going to swing.
“Laurence! Enough! Hand it over!”
They all turned to see a stern cafeteria monitor behind them.
Flynn closed his eyes. Oh, great, he thought. I’m causing attention.
But when Flynn opened them, he saw that the smile had vanished from Dylan’s face. Dylan slammed the journal of the girl’s table and stalked off with his pack.
The girl grabbed her notebook, as she looked up at Flynn with a soft smile. “Thanks.”
Flynn nodded. “No problem.”
Flynn hadn’t made it three seconds after school before Dylan and his friends cornered him against a fence.
“Listen up, kid,” Dylan hissed, jabbing a finger into Flynn’s chest, “you’re the new kid in town, so we’ll cut you a break since you don’t know how things work. You embarass me, I embarass you. But even worse. And stay away from Tara Quint. You get me?”
Flynn scowled. No, I’m not sure I do is what he wanted to say, but Dylan shoved him against the chain links, knocking the wind out of him. Flynn got a punch to the ribs, and another to the jaw.
By the time they walked away, laughing, Flynn was hunched, bruised, his breath ragged. He pressed a hand to his side, hissing.
Late in the afternoon, after school, the motel air conditioner rattled like it was struggling to breathe even more than Flynn was. His ribs throbbed every time he moved, but the hum of the AC almost camouflaged his breathing.
Flynn was hoping that if he kept his face angled towards the window, his mom wouldn’t see his face very clearly.
But then she got to the motel and Flynn must have greeted her the wrong way because just mere seconds later…
“Flynn,” she said quietly yet firmly. “Turn around.”
He did, reluctantly.
Flynn’s mom’s eye widened. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing. PE was rougher than I expected. Dodgeball.” Flynn scoffed at her incredulous expression. “Yeah, I know. Not my first pick of activity for my PE class activity, but what can you do?”
“A dodgeball hit you that hard?” his mom remarked.
“I didn’t really dodge on time, and I paid the price for it,” Flynn said.
“Something like this looks intentional, Flynn,” his mom said. She sighed, rubbing her temples. “We’ve only been here one day, Flynn. One day, and you’re already getting hurt.”
“Mom, mom, mom. Please—don’t make it a big deal. It’ll just make things worse,” Flynn said, before closing his eyes. Why did I have to say that last part? he thought.
“Make what worse? I thought it was a dodgeball game that did this to you?” Flynn opened his eyes, and his mom’s expression had gone from incredulous to suspicious.
“It was! I’m just saying you’re telling me that I shouldn’t cause too attention to myself, and I really feel like blowing this out of proportion breaks that rule, don’t you think?” Flynn pointed out.
Flynn’s mom nodded. “That is true. You’re right. Well, if it was dodgeball, then it was dodgeball. Just make sure to be careful, all right, honey?”
“Yes, mom, I will.”
Flynn’s mom turned on the TV. The glow of the screen almost lit the bruises he was trying not to touch. As Flynn watched the TV with his mom, every breath reminded him that hiding the truth somehow managed to hurt more than the punches.
The next morning, Flynn was in the school library before class. The place smelled more like lemons than old paper.
A copy of The Phantom Tollbooth, one of several books that he actually owned, lay open in front of him, but he wasn’t reading.
Flynn’s jaw still ached after he yawned. His ribs still pinched after he breathed. And he still replayed Dylan’s sneer and the laughter that followed.
Why did I even step in? Flynn thought. I should have just minded my own business, and now I’m keeping things from Mom.
Yet, Flynn’s attention wasn’t on his book, but on Tara, who was sitting alone, scribbling in her notebook. Every few seconds she would glance up, looking around to make sure no one was there, so that her notebook wouldn’t get taken away again. And every time she did, Flynn would make sure that he was pretending to focus on the page that he was still on.
But pretending only worked so long.
“You know, you should take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Tara said without looking up, curiosity and amusement in her tone nonetheless.
Flynn blinked. “I wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything.”
Tara looked up at him, giving him a sideways smile. “Thanks for yesterday.”
Flynn shifted in his car, tightening his grip on the book. “I didn’t do much. Probably made things worse.”
“Trust me,” Tara said softly. “You didn’t.”
Flynn wanted to trust her, but the bruises that Flynn was glad she couldn’t see told a much different story.
“What are you reading?” Tara asked.
“The Phantom Tollbooth. My mom bought a copy for me years ago. I annotate words I like,” Flynn replied. OK, maybe too much information, he thought.
Tara’s smile widened. “Words you like? You like words?”
Flynn smiled a bit too. Ok, maybe not, he thought. “Yeah. I have a list. That must sound so weird, right?”
Tara shook her head. “That’s not weird. It’s so…cool. Maybe I should start doing that.”
Flynn tilted his head. She…thinks it’s…cool, he thought.
But before his thoughts could get too far, the library door creaked open. Flynn’s stomach sank.
Dylan Laurence stood in the doorway, arms crossed, with a wicked smirk, looking right at Flynn before he walked away.
But Tara? She was none the wiser, already writing again.
Flynn tried to actually focus on his book, but he knew what Dylan’s smirk meant.
It’s open season. On her…and on you.
Flynn tried his best to get that dangerous smirk of Dylan’s out of his mind as he and Tara went to class sort of together.
And sort of together meant that Tara had left the library first, asking Flynn, “You coming? Class is about to start.”
Flynn had nodded. “You go ahead. I’ll catch up. I’ll make it.”
Tara had nodded. “See you in class.”
Flynn managed to get to first period on time. He slid into his usual seat in the back row, careful to keep his backpack nearby, touching his right foot underneath the desk.
But Dylan was already there, giving Flynn the same open season smirk from before.
Flynn tried not to look. I can’t let him in my head, he thought. He opened his backpack and pulled out a journal, looking at what he learned yesterday.
But then someone tapped him on the shoulder.
Flynn turned around to see that Tara was sitting right next to him.
“You ok?” she whispered.
Flynn nodded. “I’m good.”
Tara turned her head in direction towards Dylan, but then looked back at Flynn, a little unconvinced, but then she nodded back.
Mr. Warren, their 1st period teacher, tapped a marker against the whiteboard. “Good morning, class! Before we get started, let’s do our morning announcement.”
He clicked on the projector, and the room filled with the hum of the broadcast. Flynn and all the rest of the students stood up for the morning announcement pledges, the United States and the Florida pledge, one of many different state pledges Flynn had to give in the last six years.
But then a voice came through. “Good morning, students! For those who don’t know me, my name is Mandy Jennison, but it’s Mrs. Jennison, to you all. And I know it’s super early to announce this, but we do have our spelling bee later this term, and it’ll be held in early November in our gym this year!”
Groans, laughs, and someone muttering, “They’re using the gym for that?”
Flynn was frozen like a statue in his seat, hanging on and absorbing every word. Maybe that sounds like something like I could do, he thought. But then he closed his eyes, subtly shaking his head. No, too much attention. I can’t embarrass myself.
And suddenly, his thoughts were hurting worse than his ribs as his mind went back and forth. Flynn could only imagine what Dylan was whispering to his friends right now, and once again that devilish smirk had returned to his mind.
No, Flynn thought. I need to focus.
And when the PA clicked off, so did Flynn’s thoughts.
I hope you enjoyed this second chapter! If you’re reading this before 12:00 pm cst, the third and final chapter of this serialized novel until Friday will come out on 12:00 pm cst!
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