The first day of school had been so bitter sweet. Dean wished he didn't have to feel the pain, but he wasn't on the wrestling team, anymore.
It was hard to let go, but then again, he saw how the fellows looked at him now. He wasn't quite right in the head, evidently.
Oh, he knew his place. It wasn't really anywhere. Exactly. He'd never really been a part of anything, other than the welfare system. Yet, wrestling felt like a salvation of some kind. But that was gone now. The incident with the Coke machine.
Now it was silent. He was lucky to be here. He knew there were no more chances. The way they looked at him. Was he just a time bomb?
It had been such a quiet day. Funny, how he'd looked forward to work at the library. As it was, Vada found him. She was working quietly on homework. It seemed she was much better at math than she even knew.
He checked a couple of her Algebra problems. They'd read over them, together. She was on the right track. She'd made him smile. It felt good to help.
"So it was a good day, then?" He took time to ask. She nodded.
"And you?" She looked at him ever so serious as if she knew when he told a lie.
"Not bad. Really." He nodded. But he'd spoken to no one. He'd sat alone at lunch. That's when the triangle shaped note hit him in the head. Luckily, it didn't fall into the soupy meatloaf.
Dean didn't know what to think. He'd put it in his pocket. Probably, should toss it, but he hadn't yet.
He went back to the books to put away. Soon enough he felt for the note in his jean's pocket. He was curious. So he opened it.
Hi, I just wanted you to know. I think you're sweet. Call me.
No name. But a phone number.
Dean headed for the breakroom. He was going to toss the note away and be done with it, but there were brownies on the table. He hesitated as his stomach grumbled like a trained lion. Someone from circulation along with her twin from Tech were having a chat. He felt as if he were interrupting so he backed away with the note and slipped out the back door.
He wanted a brownie, but he knew better. Not good for his teeth. Not good for the muscle mass he'd worked long and hard for, since last year. Instead, he dug in the back pocket for his old cell. It would take forever to text. He didn't even have a keyboard. So he called as if he needed something to do. Perhaps to fight the hunger.
"Hello," said a sweet voice.
"Hello." Dean swallowed back fear. Even his heartbeat upped the tempo. He could hardly think. He'd never done anything like this before. "I..I guess I'm your mystery guy."
"Oh." She sounded pleased.
Dean smiled. Actually, it was kind of funny. He had no idea who he was even talking too. Did she know who she was talking to?