Clear and Present Danger

Having soundly defeated yet another irony in the subject of religion, I resumed my walk down the hallway to my classroom. I never looked at anyone, and kept my gaze directly ahead. This made me an expert at knowing who people were and where they were looking without looking directly at them. I entered my classroom, and, as usual, did not look at, nor say anything to, anyone. I sat down, and began to look over the review sheets that my teacher gave us for the last chapter. It was an AP World History course, so it gave me a bit more trouble than most classes. I was just finishing a paragraph about the Crusades' influence on East-West relations in the present day when I saw a figure approaching me in the reflection on the whiteboard. This was inherently unusual, as hardly anyone talked to me. Even though I followed his gaze to me, I disregarded him. "Hey", the figure said. "Do you know who I am?" I turned, surprised, at the fellow student. He was an older student, probably a senior. I was a sophomore. This guy had a white sweatshirt on with grey sweatpants that showed his ankles. His hair was the equivalent of a mop. All of these things were trendy teen things to do. Following trends was an expression of gullibility and lack of confidence. In addition, this guy didn't look too smart. However, there was one trait that did not relate to any of these things. That was physique. This guy had little in the way of muscle, but was clearly athletic. He wasn't skinny, but still had meat on his bones. If I were to fight him, I would have to overpower him, and prevent him from overwhelming me with a flurry of attacks. All of this I did in a few seconds. Truthfully, I answered, in as friendly a tone I could muster, "No." His next words were not as kind. "Yeah? Well, you're lookin' at the captain of the football team! Boyfriend of Rose Schafer! You're just some stuck-up bookworm!" I smiled. "There is a difference between not talking to anyone and being stuck up." My smile turned to my usual expressionless line. "My girlfriend's friend's boyfriend said that he saw you eying my girlfriend's ass this morning!" This guy was quivering with anger. "I was. You're very lucky," I confessed. I saw it coming from a mile away. His right arm was much bigger than his left. "Probably the one he jerks off to her nudes with," I mused. The gloves were off now. I moved his hard right aside with my left and countered with a jab to the throat. The result of this was my opponent falling to the ground and uttering a couple painful coughs. This aroused the attention of the teacher and the few people that were in the classroom a good ten minutes before class. "What happened?" inquired the stunned female teacher. Before I could plead my case, the trendy kid was back on his feet. I walked casually towards the teacher's desk. Most kids would not get into a fistfight in front of a teacher. However, the target was already enraged. Like all emotions, it would hinder a person's ability to think logically. As a result, this trendy kid began to charge. Shit. That was a factor that I had not considered. I pushed myself off the wall and prepared. "Remember, you started this, not me," I concluded, before ending the fight with a left kick to the groin. This was made possible by my faked right punch. I knew it would work; this conceited guy clearly overestimated his fighting abilities. The dummy crumpled into a immobile heap, as if struck by a tranquilizer dart. "Self-defense," I said, with my hands up. The teacher was too stunned to respond. The few groups of kids socializing began to take pictures. I covered my face with a folder and left the room. I never used social media because I wasn't very, you know, social. If my face was near that guy it wouldn't look too good. Human brains worked in an interesting way. They always assumed the worst or best, no matter what the scenario. Just before class began, I reentered the classroom. Not to my surprise, everyone was looking at me, but not one knew I was looking at them; all of them, at once.