Page 12 of For the Fans

I refuse to look their way, but there’s a group of football players exiting the locker room, shoving each other around like testosterone-fueled jocks tend to.

In their own little world. Nothing and no one else matters…

“Fuck!” I grunt when one of them bumps right into my shoulder,hard. Hard enough that I drop my art book on the floor, papers scattering out, all across the hallway.

Tipping my chin, I aim a seething glare in the direction of their brood. And go figure… the one who bumped me is none other than the asshole I now share a bathroom with.

“Oops.” Kyran smirks over his shoulder at me while walking away, preppy fuckhead that he is.

Then he proceeds to step rightonmy drawings, laughter continuing on amongst him and his stupid fucking friends. My jaw is clamped as I bend to pick up my stuff, quickly stuffing papers back into my book while Kyran and his pals high-five each other.

“Okay… That was totally on purpose,” I mumble to myself, deliberately ignoring them.

“Oh my God, what a fucking loser!” One of the other jocks cackles. “Is that manga??”

This time, I can’tpossiblykeep my mouth shut. “If it’s so lame, why do you know what it’s called?” My lips curl as I tilt my head in his direction.

The dumb dope’s face drops, and he looks embarrassed.Point one for me.

“Please. It’s a standard for art nerds,” Kyran speaks up, narrowing his gaze at me. “You’re all the same. Drawing big-titted girls you could never get in a million years.”

They laugh some more.

“Forgive me, I’m working on memory,” I growl at him. “I’ve only met your mom once.”

My evil smirk grows as Kyran’s fists clench, and he turns to stomp back in my direction.

“Thefuckdid you just say to me??” he hisses, and I stand up.

Fuck it. If he wants a fight, I’m game. Sure, I’ve never fought anyone before… but how hard could it be to throw a punch? I’ve been working out more lately… Maybe I could just hit him and run.

“Hey, enough.” A female voice stops us, and I pry my fuming gaze away from Kyran long enough to notice a small, pink-haired girl stepping in between us.

My shoulders drop back as Kyran does the same, his friends grabbing him and tugging him away from our potential throw-down. He shoots me one last angry scowl before returning to his dumb jock friends. Keeping my wicked grin intact, I turn to the girl who’s helping me.

“Ignore them,” she says, bending to pick up the rest of my drawings. “Clearly the steroid injections are still fresh.”

I chuckle, eyeing her while she straightens. I’ve seen this girl around… In fact, she’s in my art class. But I’ve only been here a few weeks, so I barely know anyone’s names yet. Other than the asshat I live with, who seems hard-pressed to make my time in this school a living hell already.

“Thanks for that,” I murmur as she hands me my drawings. “I won’t say I wouldn’t have thrown a few punches their way, but getting my ass kicked by a band of jockstrap-wearing dickheads probably wouldn’t be great for my reputation as thenew kid.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Yea, probably not.”

I take her in for a moment. She’s really pretty, and visibly different from most of the other girls at this school. Bronze skin tone and a Colgate smile, fashionably ripped clothes and brightpink hair, piercings in her lip and nose, even a few visible tattoos on her hands.

She lookscool. And maybe just the right amount of anti-establishment for us to bond over being weirdos.I’m in.

“These are really good, by the way.” Her eyes fall to my art book. “I have to admit, I’ve peeped some of your stuff in class. I like your style.”

“Really?” I can’t help but grin wide. “Thanks. I’m still sort of trying to find my niche…”

“Your portraits are sick. And I love all this detail.” She points to one of my sketches I started yesterday, of a girl and a guy holding hands as they’re beamed up into a spaceship. “I’m Frankie.”

I shift my book to shake her hand. “Avi. It’s nice to meet someone cool around here… You know, someone who isn’t all about football and cheerleading.”

“Well, don’t get me wrong, I love football.” She smiles. “The games, mostly. I’m in the band.”

“Oh, that’s awesome,” I tell her excitedly. “So you really are the hot-nerd needle in a preppy haystack?”