The Clay Connection

"I should take what class?" I asked Mrs. Sanders, my guidance counselor, in shock. Her hand was outstretched and in it was my new class schedule.

"Pottery class, Blake. It'll be good for you."

I stared at her in disbelief, waiting for her to laugh and tell me she was just joking and that I'll take Home-Ec or something. She did not.

"You don't have that many options, Blake."

"What about AP English?" I asked dumbly.

"First of all, pass regular English first before thinking of getting into a more challenging class. Secondly, even if you are doing well in English, which you aren't, the AP classes are already full."

"What about Phys-Ed? It's an elective. I didn't do it before, I can take that instead. You can't tell me that it's full," I quickly added. She sighed and leaned in, taking on a serious tone.

"I have decided that the best option for you now is pottery class. You need an elective to compensate for the gap caused by your...termination from the basketball team."

I had almost forgotten that I was kicked off the team. I just told myself that the only reason I was being given a new class schedule is because Mrs. Sanders thought it would be a good idea to have my classes rearranged. Hearing her say it out loud brought me back to reality and caused a heavy cloud of rage to settle over me.

That damn bastard Anthony Pearce! He was the reason I was in that mess to begin with. If he hadn't been such a son of a bitch, I wouldn't have done what I did and gotten kicked off the team. And now, here was Mrs. Sanders sending me right back to him without a second thought. I wondered what the hell she was thinking.

"You do know I got kicked off because of the incident with Pearce, right? And you do know that he's in the pottery class, right?" I asked just to make sure she knew what she was doing. She settled back in her chair and sighed again, running her hand through her hair but managing to not mess it up.

"I think it's a wonderful idea for you to be close to Anthony. Maybe you can resolve your animosity with one another." I gave a derisive laugh. The thought of resolving anything between Anthony and I was comic and downright impossible.

"I was on the basketball team with him for four years. We've been in the same class for almost ten. If being in proximity with him could fix our animosity, I wouldn't have to be taking a class for eight-year-olds." My tone was harsher than I intended, but she had to understand just how messed up her logic was.

"Take your class schedule and try to make the most of it," she said with finality. Sighing in defeat, I snatched the piece of paper from her and stormed out of her office. Just as I got to the hallway, I came face to face with Anthony Pearce. He had a smug smile on his face as he saw the class schedule in my hand.

"You want a Glasgow smile, Pearce? It'll save you the stress from having to move your facial muscles all the time."

"Ah, you're snippy. It's a good thing you're taking pottery. It'll help with the overall tension and anger issues. You'll need to get your emotions in check especially on days when I'll be playing basketball with the rest of the team and you'll be forced to sit on the bleachers and watch." I felt the onset of my rage and I squeezed my fists in an act to control myself. My schedule crumpled with the pressure of my fingers on it.

"You want another slingshot over your neck, Pearce?" I asked, gritting my teeth. He stared at the cast on his right arm and frowned, but his frown quickly disappeared and is replaced with a sinister grin.

"I promise you, Lindell, the next time we fight you'll be the one in a freaking sling." He walked away after that and I smiled to myself. Not my finest moment and most definitely not something to be bragging about to people other than my friends, but I was happy that I managed to break a couple of his bones. It did seem like a good reason to be kicked off the team.

The first class I had for the day went by slowly. Safe to say that I was extremely happy that I didn't get to be in AP English. If regular English was like hell, I wondered what that would feel like. When I got to my locker after class, I saw my friends, Dante and Luke, already gathered there.

"I was just telling Luke about the hottie in freshman year." I opened my locker and made a disgruntled sound at the back of my throat.

"Pedophile much, Dante?" I asked while shoving my English textbook in and taking out History.

"I don't turn eighteen until next month. It's totally within the scope of the law." He was grinning like a fool and I couldn't help but smile. We started walking towards the next class that we had together.

"I'm telling you this girl is hot. Like she-pushed-Susan-off-the-hotness-chart hot."

"Oh yeah? Does she have big boobs? Is that what makes her so hot?" Everyone knew that Dante's description of a hot girl was one whose breasts were like soccer balls. Luke snickered and patted Dante's shoulders.

We had just gotten around the corner leading to class when Dante stopped us eagerly.

"There! There she is. What the hell is she doing with Anthony Pearce?" The disappointment in his tone could not be missed. I looked over at where he pointed and spotted Anthony with truly the most beautiful girl I had ever laid eyes on. Dante wasn't just talking about her breasts.

She and Anthony seemed to have been having an amusing conversation because she threw her head backward and laughed. The sound echoed through the halls and I relished in how wonderful it sounded. When he touched her hair in some kind of flirty way with his good hand, I frowned.

"What the hell?" I heard Luke say. "Isn't Anthony like, gay? Why the hell is he flirting with that pretty freshman?"

I peered closely at them then and realized that she looked oddly familiar. A smile crept up my face when I recognized her, just as she leaned in and hugged Anthony.

The bell went off as Dante started moaning about how she had terrible taste in guys for being with a 'geek' like Anthony.

"I'm skipping History today guys. See you later." I bobbed and weaved through the emerging crowd of students and managed to get to the Clay Room as it was so commonly called. Just as I suspected, Anthony was there, setting down his bag by the pottery wheel.

"I see you've transitioned from being gay to engaging in incest." Anthony spun around so fast at the sound of my voice, he almost lost his balance. I felt like messing with him today; it seemed fitting since he was the reason my dream of dominating the basketball team during my last year in high school was now impossible.

"Don't be disgusting, Lindell. Not everyone's like you, you know."

I frowned at his jibe. He was referring to the time I accidently kissed my cousin back in ninth grade. Let's just say a dark room mixed with a concussion didn't go well together.

"I got to say, Crystal does look hot this year. It looks like that summer holiday she took to Florida with her friends really paid off." I smiled suggestively which made his entire being shake with rage. Taking swift angry strides towards me, he stopped a couple inches away from me, his neck craned upwards to get a better look in my eyes.

"Talk about my sister like that again and I'll beat the shit out of you." I almost laughed at how it sounded. For one, he couldn't even wipe his butt properly with that broken hand.

I took a step forward, looked down at him and peered into his blue eyes, my smile never leaving my face. Without missing a beat, I grabbed his right shoulder and pressed down on it really hard, eliciting a pained cry from him.

"No, you wouldn't," I said and laughed. His breathing became raged but he didn't make a move to attack.

"And I can talk about Crystal however way I want. She's hot and I like hot girls." I could only imagine the negative energy that was welling up within him. To be in a state of utter uselessness must have been frustrating for him. I, however, was enjoying it.

"If I remember correctly, which I do, she has a thing for me, right? God, it would be so great if she comes to my party this Friday. You're not invited by the way."

I saw his left arm muscle flex and his fist crumpled up in fury. His lips were pursed and his eyes were a darker shade of blue. It was just a matter of time before he exploded and I got to punch him again. I didn't want to be the one to start the fight again. If he did it, I could just claim self-defense.

"We will so have a good time then. I believe she's a virgin, right Pearce?" That was the straw that broke the camel's back.

In one sweeping movement, Anthony was directly in front of me. But the strides he took were too long and he realized too late that he was extremely too close to make any move. Before either of us could stop our collision, Anthony rammed straight into me, sending us both to the floor. The impact was intense and instead of his fist to collide with my lips as was the original plan, his lips did.

I froze, not knowing how to react to it. His lips were weirdly soft and my heart was in overdrive. Realizing that he wasn't making a move to stand up, I pushed him away from me, getting up with lightning speed. When he stood up too, I saw that his face was beet red and his eyes were diverting everywhere but me.

Before I could say anything, I heard a loud bang from behind me. Turning around, I saw Anderson, Anthony's best friend, staring at the both of us with his eyes and mouth wide opened. The silence in the room was deafening and the tension was as thick as a bar of soap.

I opened my mouth to speak, to deny whatever thoughts he had conjured up but closed it back, my blood running cold the moment my eyes came in contact with it.

Resting in-between his hands was his video camera, the red light on indicating that it was recording something. With the kind of luck I had, I figured he caught us on video too.

Shit!