Chapter Text
“I don't know if I can do this, Richie. What will people say?” Max stroked the arm of his letterman jacket sheepishly. Those smoldering eyes met Richie's and held there, burning into him.
“People have said stuff about me my whole life. I won't say you ever -uh- get used to it. But. It does start to lose meaning after the millionth time you hear it,” Richie spoke in his matter-of-fact manner that he just couldn't turn off. Even when Max Jägerman was eyeing him like he was.
“You're such a nerd,” Max scoffed and kicked at the dirt with one foot.
“Yeah. Like that word. You should really get some -uh- more o-original material,” Richie smiled.
“Original material, huh?” Max stepped close too quickly and Richie flinched, closing his eyes tight and readying his face to meet fist. He should have guessed that Max was just trying to lure him here to beat him up again. What else could Max ever want with him anyways?
When Richie was met with a caress to his cheek instead of a hard impact, he shuddered and opened his eyes. Max was inches away from his face, he could smell his warm breath and see every speck in his irises.
“I haven't done this before, have I?” Max ran his thumb over Richie's bottom lip.
Shaking his head frantically and swallowing down his apprehension, Richie confirmed, “N-n-no, I don't -um- don't think you have?”
“Well you'd remember, wouldn't you? Nerd.” Max smiled warmly and grabbed the back of Richie's neck. Their lips met in a fast and heated...
No... Ruth. There has to be more build up than that. What are you even doing? Ruth thought to herself.
What she was doing of course, was completely ignoring the AP physics lecture that Mr. Bridgers had carefully prepared while drunk off his gourd last night. Not like it mattered, she had skipped four chapters ahead in their textbook already, anyway.
This mattered more. She had already memorized the equations on the board and when to use them. The answer that really eluded her now was how to get Max Jägerman and Richie to bang until both their brains were on the floor. It just wasn't right if it was rushed, her friend deserved better than that. But, oh, how she wanted to rush it.
Those sweaty men, just rubbing and touching and testing one another's limits. Poor Max, so blinded in his hate that he'd never see the love in real life. Tragic. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be. Ruth sighed and nudged her pencil onto her ear.
The clock counted down the day. Just a few more minutes. No study sessions tonight, Ruth was going straight home to work out all of these unresolved brimmed-over feelings. She got her bag ready, put her notebook into the main pocket and zipped it.
A loud bell signaled the end of class. Just as seniors do, the students cleared out quickly, crowding out of the room with urgency. Ruth hung back, waiting for the door to swallow the exiting droves. Mr. Bridgers sat back in his chair, closed his eyes, and rubbed at the bridge of his nose.
“Need anything, sir?” Ruth offered as she stepped toward the door.
The teacher didn't answer. Ruth wasn't even sure if he heard. She shrugged her shoulders in a heavy sigh and stepped into the hallway.
The locker they had assigned her was dingy and right by the stairs – a perfect place for bullies to put their used gum before 2nd period or shoot spitballs at her hair over the railings. Of course, she knew that, and still she didn't complain to get a new locker. That would just bring more attention to it.
Today's trip was uneventful, it seemed. She opened the metal door, gathered her books and stuffed them into her bag without incident.
The hallways had just been deep-cleaned and waxed around a week ago. She could still smell the chemicals on the floors as she trod towards the exit. She made it about halfway before a hand grabbed her backpack by the top strap and whipped it from her grasp. Ruth slipped and fell to the floor. She saw the hooded figure slip into the gymnasium, wearing all black, carrying her dinosaur backpack off as she regained stability on the floor.
“Heyyyyy, what's that all about?” Ruth huffed and stomped to the gymnasium door. She grabbed the handle and cringed as she pulled back her hand. It was now covered in a glimmery slimy mucous-like substance.
“Ewww! What the hell?” Ruth spread her fingers and watched as the gel formed strings between them. “Fucking gross!” She pulled the sleeve of her sweater down while grimacing and went for the handle again, carefully choosing the least disgusting part to grab and pull.
The gym was eerie when empty and darkened. Ruth hated it enough already when it was lit up. She didn't want to be in here any longer than she had to be. Just get your backpack and go.
The bottom of her shoes squeaked against the floor as she stepped in and searched. “Hello?” She called. The walls echoed her greeting back. There was a small skittering sound to her right and as she glanced over, she saw the door to the boy's locker room close.
“Hey, wait!” Ruth called, stumbling towards the movement. She reached the door, but... the boy's locker room? She hesitated and looked around, hand ghosting over the pull-bar. If she didn't go in there and some jock found her homoerotic fantasy scrawlings, she'd never hear the end of it. They would bully her straight to Sycamore. She couldn't leave it in there, but maybe she should get a janitor instead?
RIIIIIP! RIIIIP!
The distinct sound of pages being torn out of a book urged her on. “Hey! Don't touch my shit!” Ruth yelled as she yanked at the door and stepped through.
The lights were low and buzzing, blinking and shorting out in places. It took her a moment to see her backpack unzipped in a puddle on the floor. Her curls bounced wildly as she ran up and assessed the damage.
“Damn it!”
The pages of her notebook were scattered on the wet tile, ink smudging and bleeding into the still water. What was left, just empty pages covered in the same slime from the door.
“Well, I hope you're happy,” Ruth said to the disappearing thief - if they were still around to listen, which she didn't sense they were. There were two entrances to each locker room. They would've had to have been very fast, but at least it sort of tracked that they could have left through the other one.
Ruth cleaned up the sopping pages and shoved them into a nearby trash can. The whole thing needed a rewrite anyways. This was just the universe telling her how much it sucked. She sighed and checked her backpack. It too, had a sheen of slime in places, but the inside looked thankfully mostly untouched.
She carded her fingers through the contents to make sure all the books were accounted for. In between the library's copy of The Hobbit and her Anatomy textbook, she found a new book had been left. With a pinch of her fingers, she eased it out of her bag.
The cover was smooth and nondescript, only adorned with a strange symbol she didn't recognize. There was no title and when she opened it to flip through, the old yellowed parchment was blank. Something in it made her feel uneasy. Like she should leave it right there in the puddle on the floor to rot.
Still, something else in it called to Ruth, stirring her deep inside. She was suddenly painfully aware of the pencil on her ear and the pages in the trash with so many unfinished ideas.
Ruth gave a final glance around the room and placed the book carefully back in her bag between her other studies. Even through the fabric and zippers, she felt it reaching out, begging to be opened and poured into the entire walk home.