Chapter Text
The locker slam shouldn't have surprised him as badly as it did, but with his head in the clouds it caught him off guard.
"Hurry up, fuckhead, you're blocking my way."
High school sucked, Calvin had gathered, but it sucked twice as much when you still hadn't quite hit your growth spurt and the school made you have the top locker.
He gathered the last of his books for the day (who even took notes in Algebra, anyway?) before shutting his locker but like a stupid idiot he forgot one of his was untied because of course it was and when he went to walk forward and get out of that jerk's way--
Even worse, his backpack was unzipped and his sketchpad (God, his sketchpad) went flying along with his books and his notes and shitshitshit-
Wiping out on the floor was awful, but if that notebook ended up in the wrong hands he was completely totally utterly fucked.
And because today was Tuesday and Tuesdays were basically Monday and that meant the weekend was still far away, or maybe because he overslept and forgot to take his Ritalin so he'd make the bus on time for once in his life, nothing was going to go his way because Moe was the fucker who picked up his sketchbook. Great.
"Dropped something, Davis?"
"Give it back, Moe."
"Why? Draw something embarrassing?"
"Give. It. Back." Calvin'd gathered the rest of his books and thank fuck those were in his bag and he didn't know how but he'd remembered to zip it this time but more importantly he was nearly snarling at Moe even though the other boy had nearly a foot and a hundred pounds on him, the asshat.
"Think I won't." A smirk and a flip of the cover. Great.
Calvin jumped and tried to reach but his coordination still sucked, so naturally, he missed. Moe paid him no attention and kept flipping through.
"Hey." Both heads snapped as a familiar voice are down the hallway.
Susie freaking Derkins, sticking up for him? He'd finally caught up to her in height over the summer, the only victory he'd gotten given she'd been taking classes at the high school since junior high and she'd beaten him in the braces-off race by a week, but still. Considering she basically avoided his ass (and who wouldn't, the weird kid who hung out by the art hallway during lunch and allegedly talked to his imaginary-but-very-real-thank-you-kindly tiger friend on the regular, while she had actual pull with the Quiz Bowl and Student Council and tennis team even though she was only a freshman), there was no freaking way she should be doing this-
"Moe, don't be a dick. Give the sketchbook back to Calvin or I'll be sure to let Coach Daniels know exactly why his favorite JV player is missing from this week's game."
"You don't have the pull-"
"He's my stepdad, dumbass. Give it back." An eyebrow raise got a scowl from the bigger boy but he complied.
"Draw some tits next time, Davis, at least make it interesting." Of course that'd be the only comment Moe'd give, but Calvin was, quite frankly, just grateful the book was back intact.
"Uh, thanks." was all he managed to get out.
"Don't mention it, Moe's just lucky he's got his brain working well enough to not get caught by someone else. You're in the art wing first period, right?"
Calvin nodded, dumbfounded that she cared enough to notice but then again she'd always been alarmingly perceptive.
"You're not gonna make it there in time, but just tell Barton you were with me and you should get off scot-free."
"Huh?"
"Ms. Barton? Art teacher, tennis coach, ring a bell? This is my stop, see you later." Susie turned to the doorway Calvin hadn't even realized they'd been approaching, but he blinked a couple of times and then the warning bell for classes rang and he would not could not will not be late again and land himself in detention for the umpteenth time and force himself a slot on the late bus so he high-tailed it, shoe still untied the whole way across the building and down into the basement but he slid into his seat as the late bell rang and thank God Barton didn't care enough to enforce the late policy first thing in the morning as he plopped his sketchbook down on the table.
"So you're telling me Susie stuck up for you instead of being just plain old stuck up?"
"I know, right? Weird, isn't it, Hobbes? You figure out that math problem?"
"If you take the square of eleventy-four and divide it by six, then take it to the power of negative three-"
"So that's a no then. Great. As if trying to force my way through The Grapes of Wrath wasn't bad enough."
"You'll sit there for hours poring over anything you can find by John Locke, but that's too hard for you?"
"You try reading the same six sentences for an hour because you can't focus on whatever's being said. It's like the transmogrifier's turned my brain to complete mush."
Hobbes made a noncommittal noise and they fell into a comfortable silence, even if Calvin's brain started wandering to faraway lands and Spaceman Spiff and aliens and Doctor Who and Star Wars and the faint smell of Susie's cucumber shampoo and- wait, what? Susie was a girl for crying out loud, and even worse still she was, is Susie. Ick. Well, maybe not ick, but still. Okay, so Susie's not hideous. But she's Susie, and that should outweigh everything else, considering how batshit they drove each other, every mutual teacher, and everyone else in the neighborhood when they were younger. Right? That's totally how that works.
Calvin made a mental note to Google it later and got back to work.