Erik

Seriously, Helen. One more incident and Erik will have to go to military academy. I mean it.

Those two sentences and the cafeteria full of witnesses were the only things keeping me from beating Tucker with his blue plastic lunch tray until it snapped and disintegrated into several pieces. I'd take one of the shards and repeatedly stab him until his intestines spilled onto the blue and white checkered tiled floor littered with unrelenting scuff marks.

Charles' threat didn't scare me. As much as Charles hated to admit it, I wasn't going anywhere, no matter how much he huffed and puffed. My mother offered to rent an apartment for me as a way to "help keep the peace," but I refused. I couldn't allow Charles to get too comfortable. I had to be on his ass like a never-ending nightmare until my father returned.

Tucker's boisterous laughter quieted as he peered at Jezebel as she cleaned the mess. I examined him as his face tinted pink at the sight of Jezebel on her hands and knees. Tucker couldn't be more of a fucking cliché and a pussy. I didn't have to wonder why Tucker never made a move to make Jezebel Holmes his. He was stuck in the "what would his family and friends think" mindset. From the frequency and escalation of Tucker's behavior, I'd have to say he had a crush on Jezebel for years, probably as far back as middle school. The true tragedy was that Jezebel was completely unaware of how much power she held. She could dog-walk Tucker if she wanted to. He'd eagerly run behind her with Golden Retriever energy with his tongue lolling out, begging for treats in the form of her undivided attention. I would never allow Jezebel to have that kind of power over me.

Truthfully, she already does. She hasn't said a word to me, yet I'm thinking of ways to end Tucker before he can cross the stage and accept his unearned high school diploma.

Jezebel finished cleaning the mess, dusted off her dress, and left the cafeteria with her head down while clutching a gold cross around her neck–a neck I wouldn't mind wrapping my fingers around. I wouldn't stop squeezing until my fingerprints were visible from space. It could be 100 degrees outside, and little Miss Jezebel Holmes would wear a scarf to hide the evidence of my "love."

I spent the remainder of the lunch period fielding advances from girls who couldn't hold my interest and a few bold dudes who never had a chance. I had never in my life had to work so hard at being unapproachable. Despite the perpetual scowl on my face, people flocked to me like fruit flies to rotting strawberries.

I checked my watch and had 15 minutes to spare until the alarm shrilled, ushering in the next period. I tossed my trash and dialed my father's cell phone number. Inmates weren't allowed to have cell phones, but my father wasn't any inmate. He was Jacob King.

"Hello, my beautiful son. I've been waiting for your phone call. How is your first day of school going?"

My hand tightly clutched around my phone. I missed him more than I cared to admit. He was the only person who truly understood and loved me for exactly who I was. There was no judgment in his eyes or disappointment in his tone whenever I did something "wrong." I was always met with a warm smile and 'I love you, my beautiful son.'

"There's this girl."

"Oh? I'm listening."

"I...I think I'm in love."

***

P.E.: it is the bane of my existence.

I didn't hate P.E. because I was terrible at sports. I was the epitome of physical fitness and was typically the fastest and most agile on the court and field. The coaches would beg me to join their teams. They'd go as far as to pop up at the house to convince my parents what a good opportunity it would be for me. It was the same song and dance; promises of play time, scouts, full-ride scholarship, and perhaps if I were lucky enough, I'd be drafted to the NBA or NFL. They were kindly escorted out every single time.

Honestly, I hated P.E. because of the locker rooms. The odors were putrid. It was a mixture of sweat, ass, and Axe body spray. I learned a long time ago that many guys had trouble in the hygiene department, and it was evident they avoided washing between their ass cheeks as if it was a defense mechanism to keep their teammates from bending them over and having their way with them.

Another thing I hated was how all these "straight" guys participated in questionable homosexual behavior with each other but always played it off as a joke.

I don't know about them, but I don't find it funny when my teammate plays grab ass with me or makes humping gestures behind me while I'm in the shower. I don't even want to get into the homo-erotic dares or their fascination with each other's dick sizes. In my eyes, it's just an excuse to look at another guy's dick longer than socially acceptable.

There was absolutely nothing wrong with being gay; you love who you love. I had an issue with these same guys leaving the locker room, and suddenly they transform into gay-bashing bigots as if they weren't just thinking about sinking their mouth on their teammate's cock. The same ones probably had a healthy collection of twink porn on their home laptops. I learned long ago that the ones who vocalized their disdain the loudest were the ones who loved it the most. Hence, my theory about Tucker's infatuation with Jezebel.

"Hurry up and get on the field, fellas! We're playing flag football today!" Coach Banner yelled upon entering the locker room. "New kid! Bad call with those tattoos. You're gonna end up in prison before you turn 21!" he bellowed, causing my classmates to snicker. I couldn't help myself. I had to do it.

"Probably. But that's better than working a dead-end coaching job getting paid $40,000 a year, praying each year that your mediocre players will win a state championship. Maybe then you'd finally get some recognition, and some desperate community college will sign you on as their next head coach."

The locker room fell silent, and all eyes were on Coach Banner, anxiously awaiting his response.

"I changed my mind. Today, we're gonna play full-contact football. Suit up, gentlemen. Tucker!"

"Yes, Coach!"

"As football captain, I expect you to show Prisoner 4567 how we play ball down here."

"Yes, Coach!"

Coach Banner stormed out of the locker room, and all eyes locked on me.

"You're gonna regret disrespecting Coach like that," Tucker warned. I slammed my locker shut and slowly approached his mother's only regret.

"By the end of this week, I'll have Jezebel Holmes on her knees calling me Daddy," I whispered to him so no one could hear. I felt pure satisfaction when the smirk on Tucker's face faltered and his skin paled. "See you on the field...Captain."

***

I whistled a cheerful tune as I misted myself with my cologne. I had Coach's star player eating grass several times throughout the game. To be fair, I was sure Tucker's abilities were much better than what he displayed on the field, but the comment about Jezebel had him reeling.

I was about to leave the gym when I stumbled upon a few guys discussing who they'd kiss, fuck, and marry. I had a problem. I couldn't help myself.

"Tucker! Jezebel Holmes. Would you kiss, fuck, or marry her?" I challenged in front of everyone.

"I-I-I-" he stuttered.

"Come on. It's not that hard, Tucker. Would you kiss, fuck, or marry Jezebel Holmes?"

"I wouldn't do any of that shit with her! She's such a fucking loser!"

I nodded my head in understanding.

"Oof, bad call, man. I'd do all three. I'd suck those soft lips right off her face and fuck her until her body collapsed. I wouldn't think twice about putting a ring on her finger. A little timid God-fearing submissive like that? I'd take her to meet the Devil. Great playing out there, by the way. The scouts won't know what hit them."

I laughed as I left the locker room.

Maybe I won't hate P.E. after all.

"What's next?" I sighed as I consulted my class schedule.

Two free periods? I'm going home.

I was jolted forward and whirled around, intending to knock out whoever shoved me.

"I'm s-so sorry!" Jezebel squeaked before running off in the direction of the library.

What has my girl so spooked? Never mind. Home can wait.

09/06/2022

Author's Corner

The next chapter will be from Jezebel's perspective.

They need to stop messing with Erik because his mouth is dangerous lol.