The Last Stand of Haviland Dinwiddie

Chapter 3

By Dabeagle

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With a full belly, I decided to go for a run; it wasn't like I had anything else to do. I put on my compression pants and running shorts and swapped into a tee shirt before grabbing my keys and heading downstairs. Instead of turning away from the main street, I turned toward it and crossed the road to see what lay beyond. The road angled up, with more homes like the ones I'd seen heading the other way that morning, then a few unoccupied, run-down structures – one nothing but a burnt-out husk – and then the sides of the road were dominated by trees. I kept up an easy pace, not trying to beat any personal best times or anything.

About a mile up the hill the trees thinned out and the land flattened. At first there were fields to either side that looked as if they'd been filled with crops earlier in the season. Once the fields ended, small homes lay back from the road, modest dwellings with junk in their yards. Even the ones whose yards were cleaned up looked as if the cleanup was recent. Not wanting to run all night, I turned around and headed back into town. I paused at the main street to cross, spotting Daphne in front of the hardware store helping a lady put some bags in the back of her SUV. I crossed the road and approached them.

“Need a hand?”

Daphne turned toward my voice and broke out in her big smile. “Harvey! The grass seed is light, but I won't say no to some help with this bird feed.”

“I wouldn't buy so much, except the stupid squirrels and chipmunks keeps stealing it all!” the lady grumped.

I grabbed the bags of bird seed and stacked them beside the bags of grass seed. “Odd time of year for grass seed. Isn't it?”

“Not at all,” the lady said, planting her hands on her hips. “This is what you call a cool-season grass. They're meant for climates like ours with cold winters. They stay dormant for the hotter months, but now is a good time to get them down. I should have done it a few weeks ago, truth be told, but I got distracted.”

“Oh. I didn't know that about grasses,” I replied.

“Now what's going on out here?” Hav said from the door of the hardware store. He let it close behind him, the bell muted behind the door.

“I'm buying your overpriced grass seed,” the old lady said, her grin wide.

“Well, my price includes carrying it to your car,” Hav said. “Speaking of, you're hired.”

I was confused as it dawned on me he was talking to me. “Sorry?”

“You loaded bags in a customer's car and weren't hiding instead.” He looked at Daphne. “Where is that scalawag Rigby anyway?”

“He's out back helping to load that order of gutter pipes you said were going to be picked up this afternoon,” she replied promptly.

“Oh, well that's good,” he replied. He took a look at the stacked bags and then at the older woman. “You putting grass on a postage stamp?”

“Hav, I'll put you over my knee!” she warned, shaking a finger at him. He playfully wagged a finger back at her before thanking Daphne and me for helping to load her purchase. “Don't let this one boss you too much.” She bobbed her head toward Hav, and he waved a hand at her. She got in her car and Hav turned to me.

“First rule is no flirting with Daphne,” he said.

“Oh my God,” she said, covering her face. “He's met Tony.”

“Well, much as it'd do him good to know there's competition, no flirting with Daphne. Not on the clock.”

I swallowed. “Um. Not really going to be a problem.”

They both looked at me for a moment, and then Daphne smiled even wider than I'd seen her do before. Hav crossed his arms, causing my anxiety to spike.

“Rule number two is no flirting with Rigby. Boy's a hot mess as it is.”

“He thinks everyone is always flirting,” Daphne said, ignoring Hav. “Come on, let's go see Sandy so you can get on the schedule.”

“I wasn't done with the rules!” Hav grumped.

“You can tell him later,” she said with a big smile and pulled me inside.

“Wait, this is serious?” I asked.

“If he wasn't before, I am now!” she said with a laugh.

“Uh, I should maybe change first,” I said, feeling exposed in my running gear. It was fine outside, but now I was in a store, apparently getting a job, and I was uncomfortable. That it was because of my programming made no difference.

“It'll only take a minute,” she insisted.

I came to a stop. “Uh. No. I need to change before...any of this.”

Her smile changed, her expression growing curious. “Oh, I'm sorry. You were out running and probably feel gross.” She shook her head. “I-”

“Daphne.” Her name was stretched out, and I turned toward the voice. “Looking good.”

“Bye, Brock,” she said, her tone unusual only because I'd only ever heard her happy and welcoming. As I turned my gaze to her, her smile was completely gone. “Harvey, come back down when you're ready to fill things out. I'll ask Sandy for the packet.”

“Damn. So cold,” the guy said. I glanced at him; he was tall, with muscular arms and wearing a safety yellow tee shirt with work pants. Over his heart was stenciled lettering identifying him as working for the town department of public works.

“Brock. What the hell do you want?” Hav said, his tone dismissive. Daphne dipped out, heading for the office, and I thought that was a pretty good idea.

“Hamilton told me to come down and get six ten-pound sledges,” Brock replied, his tone less slimy than with Daphne.

“Got a PO?” Hav asked. That was the last I heard as I exited the store and headed back to the apartment. The whole thing was so strange. I wasn't sure why Daphne was so welcoming to me, but it was better than the way she treated Brock; I couldn't help but think there was a good reason. Daphne seemed to be a people person, so much as I'd seen.

“Hey, Mom,” I said, kicking my shoes off by the door and then straightening them up neatly.

“Feel better? Get some of your energy out?” she asked, looking at her laptop.

“Yeah. Uh, weird thing though. It looks like I might have a job?” I couldn't help but add the interrogative just as she sometimes did.

She looked up from her laptop. “I...you never mentioned wanting a job?” She paused. “I mean you should. It's a good idea. Where?”

I shook my head. “It was an accident.”

She snorted and then laughed a bit. “How do you accidentally get a job? I have to hear this!”

I flapped my arms and smiled a little. “I was coming back from my run, and Daphne was loading bags into this lady's SUV. I stopped and helped. Hav came out, saw me helping, and said I was hired.”

She looked at me, her expression doubtful. “Was he serious?”

I shrugged. “Daphne thinks so. She tried to drag me back into the office to do paperwork. But, you know...shorts and a tee shirt....”

My mother let out a slow breath. “This is going to take some time. I agree, if you were showing up to apply, dressing appropriately matters. But in that situation...maybe getting the job was better than worrying about appearances at that stage.”

I shrugged slowly. “I couldn't help it.”

She smiled and nodded. “It's better to be respectful in any case.” She waved me away. “Go take a quick shower and get your job!”

I did as she said and took some time to comb my hair before I headed back downstairs. I was a little nervous, as I'd never had a job before – I hadn't been allowed. I liked the idea, though, of having money that was mine and doing something that had been out of my reach before. Once downstairs, I headed for the counter, but Daphne wasn't there. Instead I found Rigby, who was trying to assemble or disassemble something.

He glanced up at me and then back down to the piece of machinery on the counter. “'Sup?” he asked.

“Uh. I guess I'm supposed to fill out some paperwork? Hav offered me a job?”

He looked up at me and frowned a little. Up close, and not red-faced and yelling at that girl from this morning, Rigby was actually pleasant to look at. His hair was short, buzzed at some point, but it looked fuzzy and soft. Some guys look more like porcupines as their buzz grows out. His eyes were caramel colored, and he was actually nice to look at, again when he wasn't screaming at someone.

“Shit. I hope he's not going to fire me.”

I widened my eyes. “Uh. I can go, bro. I don't want to cost someone their job.”

“He's not firing you,” Daphne said, emerging from the room behind him. “Maybe he would have if you were actually hiding from work earlier, but I told him you were loading those gutters up with Raul for the customer.”

Rigby glanced at her and nodded. “Thanks. You think this will cut our hours?”

Daphne rolled her eyes. “You worry too much. There's always some extra hours available, at least for now.”

Trying to move the subject farther away from taking someone's job I asked, “What do you mean, for now?”

“There's a big-box store that's been sniffing around to open up a store in the area. Something like that would put this place out of business in a few years at the most,” she said, scrunching one cheek. “That's not a today problem, though.”

“I guess it doesn't help if you throw customers out, huh?” I asked.

“Like who?” Rigby asked.

“I was here yesterday and there was this guy with a red hat, glasses-”

“Oh, you had me at red hat,” Daphne said and started to laugh. “I can't say Hav's a liberal, but he's definitely not one of those guys.”

“He's a cranky fuck,” Rigby said quietly, looking around quickly and then smiling just a little.

“Rigby! Where'd you run off to!” Hav called out from somewhere.

“Up front! Daphne had to poop!” Rigby called out. Daphne slapped his arm and called him gross. He laughed and went to go meet up with Hav.

Daphne pulled out a folder from under the counter. “Sandy said these are the forms to fill out.”

“Thanks. Uh. Not sure how to ask this without sounding like a douche,” I said with embarrassment, “but...why are you, you know, pushing this job? You've been super nice and...?”

“My God, you're adorable when you're embarrassed,” she said, her big grin back. “I'll tell you exactly why. I used to be way more suspicious of people, mostly because I'm a fucking geek and I took a lot of shit for it. It was even more fun because I was fat. Two summers ago I grew into my weight, and people started being really nice to me.”

Uncertainly I asked, “So you started being nice to them?”

She bobbed her head. “At first, but I noticed they still never let my fat past go. I kind of came to the realization I was being nice to people that don't deserve my attention. So now I'm nice to people until they give me a reason not to be, then I'm never nice again.”

I scratched the side of my head. “Uh. I mean, I guess that makes some sense.”

“It works for me,” she said. She leaned forward. “What else?”

I raised an eyebrow. “What else?”

“Rigby, am I right?”

I just thought he had a nice face! “Uh...what about him?”

“That screaming match you were telling me about in the library? That was him and his ex.”

Feeling foolish but very relieved, I chuckled. “Oh. Is that what Hav meant by him being a hot mess?”

“Hav's awareness of Rigby begins and ends with work, I think.” She shook her head, and her smile went away, fading like the sun at the end of the day, a little at a time. “No.” She glanced behind her, maybe making sure no one could overhear, then looked back to me. “This isn't spilling tea. People like to make things up, make them worse than they are, so I'll just give you the facts. Rigby's whole family is a dumpster fire. You remember that guy with the muscles and the face card that was in here before?”

I thought for a moment. “Brock? That was his name I think?”

She nodded. “That's Rigby's older brother. He was a big jock in town, got away with everything because of sports. His family isn't rich – in fact they're dirt poor. He got about three girls in town pregnant, and they all thought they were on easy street, headed for marriage and him going to be some steroid-abusing hero. Then he blew out his knee, and it all came down like a house of shit.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I thought the term was house of cards.”

“Shit describes Brock better,” she said with a wave of her hand.

I guess she's not kidding about the not being nice thing, I thought.

“The parents are the worst kind of trash. The mother keeps getting married to guys she sleeps with while she's married to someone else. It's like the same two or three guys, too. There's a sister that drinks a lot and parties, not sure how she's not pregnant yet. There's two other kids with her, and I think they are all half-siblings.”

“Jesus,” I said softly.

“So one thing Rigby hates is that people think he's going to end up like his mom or brother. Brock used to knock him around, so he really doesn't like him. So this girl he was dating? She goes by Mari, but her actual first name is Calamari.”

I stared at her. “Isn't that squid?”

“Yep!” she said with a little smile. “Her mom thought an appetizer sounded pretty and named her kid that.”

I blinked a few times. “I...think I feel bad for her.”

“Don't. She's a mean ho. Half the people in this town don't know what calamari is, and the other half think it's a great joke because you eat it.” She mimed puking. “Anyway, she thought she was going to get Rigby to get her pregnant so she could collect benefits and more once he was old enough to pay child support. Her mom was putting her up to it. Rigby wouldn't crack her open, so she did the next best thing and went to his best friend.”

I let out a breath. “Where in the Jerry Springer did I move to?”

She pointed at me. “Don't make me regret this. You be nice to Rigby.”

I raised a hand. “He's never done anything to me. I just got here, remember?”

She waggled a finger at me and smiled. “So that was the argument; they were fighting about her cheating and broke up, of course.”

I winced. “His best friend? Damn, that's a lot going on.”

She snorted. “Gordo just wanted to get laid. He's not that smart, and he was never a good friend. Now we'll see if she's pregnant.” She tilted her head. “I'll tell you one other thing.”

I waited as she looked at me.

“You look sad. When you walked in last night, I just wanted to try and get you to smile.” She smiled then, but not her big, half-head smile. This was much softer. “You still look sad. I hope you find something to make that better.”

I cleared my throat. “Uh. Thanks. I'm good, though.”

She patted my hand. “Fill out the paperwork.”

I sat down behind the counter and started filling out the sheets of paper, but in the back of my mind I was still trying to wrap my head around what she'd said about Rigby's family. I had a thought that Brock had looked sort of familiar, but maybe that was just because he was attractive physically? Even thinking of him made my blood pressure go up a little, even as my mind listed off the ways in which he was a douche. I also figured Rigby must be pretty messed up – a hot mess, as Hav said – from all that going on. You can't be in the middle of a shit show and not step in a pile. I was proof of that, if it was needed.

I glanced up at Daphne just as a customer brought a few items up. She was pleasant as she rang up their sales and sent them on their way.

“So how long have you and Tony been dating?”

She turned toward me and leaned against the counter. “About a year. After I finally dumped all the fake people from my life, it took me a few more months before I started to open up again. There's this weird combination of stores mashed into one shop nearby – video games, comic books, table games, manga books; the school anime club has meetings there. He and I met there, and we had a pretty intense debate about hobbits.”

I blinked a few times. “Did you say hobbits?”

“Don't get me started. Anyway, we ended up going out for coffee and started dating about a month later.” She smiled. “He's sweet but a chicken.”

I chuckled. “He seemed chill.”

“He is.” She paused. “So, I'm probably going to break some universal HR rule and look later, but just in case...you kind of didn't answer last night about your last name? Is it a secret?”

I glanced down at the forms I'd been filling out, having skipped over the last name box because I wasn't sure myself what I should do.

“There it is. That sad look,” she said quietly.

I wasn't ready to spill my guts, but I felt like she deserved something from me. “You, uh, know how some...well, the apartments. We got referred because....” I sighed.

“You don't have to. I promise I won't look.”

I smiled weakly. “I'm not sure why I'm so reluctant. You'll probably find out in school, anyway. I mean...” I straightened up a bit, anxiety swirling in my gut. “I go by Harvey Diaz, but some of the teachers might call me Harvey Emerson. Diaz is my mother's maiden name.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully and rubbed her chin. “Harvey Diaz. Is there even a Spanish translation for Harvey?”

I nodded. “Yep. It's Harvey. Just say it like you've been drinking tequila.”

We shared a little laugh.

Hav and Rigby came walking up from the back of the store – I had no idea what was back there – and Hav went past us and into the office area.

“You're still filling those out? She's talking at you the whole time, right? Did she ask your opinion on the hobbit debate?” Rigby asked.

Hav came back out with a set of keys in his hand. “You eat like a hobbit,” he told Rigby. “Daphne, I'm going home. Paul is out in the warehouse with Raul. Expecting more rain tonight, so it shouldn't be too busy. You and Rigby can work that hardware aisle; people are always hanging screws with bolts. It's anarchy!”

“Right! No mixing fasteners! Goes against nature!” Rigby said, giving him a mock salute.

“Something just ain't right with you,” Hav said. “Okay, going home.”

Our three 'goodnights' overlapped as he headed out the door.

“He's legit scary sometimes,” Rigby said. Without clarifying that, he turned to Daphne. “Are you sure he's not going to fire me so he can hire him?” he asked, jutting his thumb at me.

Daphne smiled at him. “If he fires you it's because you're sleeping instead of working, not because of Harv.”

“Uh, no,” I said quietly. “Not Harv.”

She whined, “No? How about Rabbit?”

“Rabbit?” Rigby frowned. “His ears are normal. You got a cotton tail or something, bro?”

“No, and keep your eyes off my tail,” I said with a little smile. I wasn't about to explain that my father insisted on my full name and I always had to correct people saying 'Harv', partially because he'd tell me I had to and partially because I didn't like it.

She pooched out her lower lip. “But Harvey sounds so stiff and formal. Or like a dead butler.”

I let out a little laugh. “Well, I guess I'm kind of stiff.”

“First he says not to look at his tail, then he announces he's stiff. Hav calls me a hot mess?” Rigby blew out a breath, and Daphne laughed at him while I just chuckled. Rigby snapped his fingers. “I know. We can call him E. Like you know how people named Christopher sometimes go by Topher instead of Chris? If it's not Harv, let's go with E!”

“Or you could just call me by my name?” I asked, smiling at how dumb this whole conversation was. “And what about you? Riggy? Or the Bee boy?”

“I call him Scrappy, you know for Scrappy Doo,” Daphne said.

“Nah,” Rigby said and started shadow boxing. “Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee!”

“Some bees lose their guts and die when they sting,” I pointed out.

Rigby stared. “For real?”

“Jesus, stay awake in class, Rigby!” Daphne said while laughing.

“Well, I think these are all filled out.” I pushed the papers toward Daphne. “I'll let you guys get to untangling the unnatural pairs of fasteners.”

“They're deviants,” Rigby agreed.

“You're a deviant,” Daphne teased.

I peaced out and headed back up to the apartment, where I hung my shirt and pants up to use the next morning. As I did, I realized my heart was thumping along pretty well and I felt kind of hot. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths. I can be social, but I decided to give myself some room with the whole 'being in a new town' thing. I guessed some of that stress would actually come the next day with school.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^

I parked in the back of the school lot and headed to the first classroom on my schedule. When I entered there were people milling around; a few noticed me with expressions of mild curiosity. I went to the desk in front, where a thin man with a scraggly beard and dark-rimmed glasses sat watching me approach.

“Hi. I'm Harvey Diaz. I'm starting today.” I had the paper copy of my schedule in hand to show him.

“I'm Mr. Baker.” He glanced at my schedule. “So this period is actually homeroom. See here at the bottom, right where you'd expect the first place you're supposed to go to be listed?” He smiled and rolled his eyes for effect.

“Oh! I'm in the wrong place.”

“Let's just call you early.” He handed me my schedule back. “I'll pass an email on to explain what happened so you get marked on time, and you can just hang out here for a minute. Homeroom doesn't last but five minutes anyway.”

“Hey.”

I glanced around, gaze settling on a girl in the middle of the room who had two other girls near her. I nodded, not recognizing her.

“Hey. Are you single?” The three girls started to giggle.

I looked back at them a little uncertainly before saying I was single.

“You might want to dress a little different if you want to get laid,” the girl said and her friends broke down in laughter.

“Thanks for the advice,” I said quietly. “When are you due?”

She jerked her head back, but her smile never went away. “You calling me fat?” Others in the room took note, turning from whatever conversations or distractions they were engaged in.

“Oh! No, no. I wouldn't do that,” I said. “I was asking when your baby's due. Big difference.” Laughter filled the room.

Her mouth opened, seemingly still amused; some people's love language is insults, I guess. The bell rang, but that wasn't going to stop her.

“Ho!” someone catcalled as they left the room. She stood up, holding her bag in one hand, and approached me. She eyed me like a farmer does livestock.

“Go to class, Kate,” Mr. Baker said.

She smiled at me again and left the room.

“You're going to make an impression on your first day, aren't you, Mr. Diaz?” Mr. Baker said, adjusting his glasses.

“I'm hoping for a quiet year, sir.”

“Don't sir me; no one's knighted me.” He smiled. “Yet. We live in hope, Mr. Diaz.”

I couldn't help but smile a little and took a seat. Students filed in, and shortly class began. Mr. Baker let me go a little early to go get my school laptop. My classes and the people were unremarkable until lunch. I heard giggling behind me and glanced over my shoulder to find the two girls that had been sitting with my...sparring partner from that morning. I was distracted from them by Tony smiling and patting my shoulder.

“Hey, how's the first day? Shitty? Not surprised,” he said with a grin.

I smiled in response. “Not too bad, really.”

“Where'd you come from?”

I glanced behind me to one of the girls, who looked at me expectantly. Before I could decide what to say, the other girl spoke up.

“Could you even pull anyone in your old school? Were they all preppy and stuck up like you?”

Feeling a little irritated I turned my back on them without answering.

“Oh, thinks he's too good for us,” the first one said. “Or Kate's already sucked his dick.”

We started to go through the serving area, got our trays and moved out to the cafeteria itself. Tony guided me over to a table with a few other people seated.

“Hey guys, this is Harvey. On just his first day he's got the coven on his ass.” Tony smiled at me as we sat down.

“Oh. I heard about you,” a guy said. He was a little pudgy with big, fluffy curled hair. “Told Kate she was fat.”

“You did?” Tony asked.

“No, no,” I said, waving a hand. “She made a comment about my clothes, and I implied she was pregnant.”

“Implied. Bro, what planet are you from?” another asked.

“Shut up. Just because you read like a Kindergartner,” another said.

“Well, Daphne will be impressed you pissed the coven off right away,” Tony said with a chuckle.

“The coven?” I picked up my sandwich and started to eat, not waiting for a response.

“Kate, Amanda and Libby. They like to say they're all about feminism and equality, but mostly they just like to break random guys down for no real reason,” the pudgy guy said. “Sometimes they go after a jock, but they're not that smart, so they just say a bunch of crap and are mostly dramatic.”

“It's kind of crap. I mean sure, girls are free to be just a big a moron as guys, but it doesn't help equality in any real way,” Tony said. I nodded as I chewed, but I was quietly impressed by the way Tony expressed himself. “Daphne says you got a job?”

I chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Daphne says the guy that owns it is a grouchy teddy bear, but there's been rumors about him for years,” Tony said.

I raised an eyebrow and glanced around the table as more than one head nodded in agreement.

“My grandpa says he killed someone,” pudgy said. I really didn't want to think that as his name.

“Damn,” I replied. “Uh, sorry, what's your name?”

“Brian.”

“Who did he kill? Or was supposed to kill?”

“Not sure.” Brian shifted forward. “The way people talk, the guy's almost like a mob boss. Feels like the cops are mostly a joke.”

I looked at Tony. “That's...weird?”

Tony shrugged. “My aunt says the town police force is small, and there aren't many people in town that make any real money. They're people that have some power policing mostly poor people. In a way it's not surprising that there's some back alley justice going on. I think it happens everywhere, really.”

“I guess that's true,” I said, bobbing my head in agreement. “Big cities have political crap that protects people with money, power or both. Sometimes you have to wonder where the line is between some of them and criminals.”

“Those guys, though, like mob guys?” Brian said, shaking his head. “Their families are all butt hurt when one of them dies, but for real – this is the life you decided on.”

“Problem is it's not always a straight up choice,” Tony said. “Sometimes there's cultural stuff, education, or maybe people are just starving and do what they think they have to.”

“Sure, but for twenty, thirty years? At some point you have to take some responsibility, right?” Brian countered. “You can't be surprised if you spend your days cracking heads for a living and someone comes along and cracks yours.”

“Fair. But once you're in that kind of thing, how do you get out? Is it always a straight up 'Hey, I think I'll retire now,' or is it more like the Godfather?” Tony dropped his voice. “Just when I thought I was out...they pull me back in!”

“That wasn't bad, but it'll be better when your balls drop,” one of the others said, and the group laughed.

Shortly after lunch I had a class with Daphne, who made it a point to take the desk next to mine. “Well, you're already in the nerd clique, so congrats on being assigned a spot in the social order so quickly,” she said with a laugh.

“I what now?” I asked, amused and confused all in one.

“Well, Tony texted me about your fight with the coven,” she began.

“Hardly a fight,” I demurred.

“Oh, it was shots fired, my friend,” she said, smiling with obvious amusement. “Plus, dressing preppy kind of boxed you in a little, but then Tony yanked you into his little group of D&D nerds, and it's official.”

I stared at her for a second. “This isn't preppy!”

She looked back at me with amusement.

“Preppies don't wear jeans,” I told her.

“They do wear polos and hang out with math nerds, and in this school the D&D nerds are the closest thing.”

I looked down as if I'd forgotten what kind of shirt I was wearing. “What's wrong with a polo?”

“Fine for funerals and job interviews; around here, shirts only have collars and buttons if you're getting married.” She affected an English accent. “You're so posh, Babe.”

I rolled my eyes and focused on the teacher as they brought the class to order. We didn't really get to talk anymore, but she told me to stop down and see her in the store that night, and I said I would.

My last class had Rigby in it, so I sat next to him.

“Bruh. Pregnant? Classic,” he said, snickering.

“Don't you start too,” I told him with a roll of my eyes. “Besides, you're no stranger to public disagreements with some girl.”

“My crash out was because of cheating. Seems completely legit to have a public slut-shaming then,” he told me. “Just a fact.”

“Okay, settle down everyone,” the teacher said. “There were a few of you that didn't submit last night's work. Go ahead and check your drives now, see if you forgot to hit submit. Rigby, a minute please?”

“Shit,” he whispered as he walked to the front. The teacher spoke in low tones, and Rigby nodded and replied, also keeping his voice down. Around the room people ignored them meeting. Some had their laptops open to make sure their work was sent, and others turned to talk. Still others pulled their phones out. Rigby made his way back to his chair and sat down, blowing out a breath.

“All good?” I asked.

“Yeah,” he said. I was curious, but decided it wasn't my business. “Does your school laptop have a charge?”

“Yeah. You need it?”

“You mind?”

“Nah.” I handed him the flimsy device. School laptops were definitely not built to last. They were basically like dummy devices, though. They connect to the school system, and you do your work through a web page. Anyone can log in using someone else's laptop, because you just needed your login information to hit the web page to do your work. I left Rigby alone as he obviously worked on whatever he was supposed to have done the night before.

The teacher opened up a discussion about the previous night's work, which had to do with the great depression. She was engaging and had about half the class actively participating in the discussion, which I thought was pretty good. At the end of class Rigby handed me my laptop back.

“Thanks, Bruh.”

“No worries. Working tonight?”

“Yeah. We get stuff shipped in on Tuesdays, so there's a lot of stocking to do. See ya later?”

I nodded. After that I got home and talked to mom. She asked questions about my first day and told me about the place she'd sent an application to the day before that had set up an interview date. Eventually I sat down and decided to glance at my school work to make sure I had nothing to get done that night. As I did I was momentarily confused; the screen reloaded automatically, showing a list of assignments, many of which were overdue or had bad grades.

Frowning, I hit the home button, and a list of classes with grades – bad ones – appeared. Confused, I studied the page until my gaze fell on a name – Rigby Chandler. Glancing at the grades again, I struggled to connect the grades with the guy. Rigby wasn't stupid, but these grades said he wasn't a good student, for sure. With a shake of my head, I found the link to log out and closed out his account. I thought for a bit about what I'd seen – what I wasn't supposed to know – and wondered about Rigby.

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