Laughing Stock

    Ryan slips through the halls, his pale hands covered in the familiar leather gloves. He keeps his head down low, his dark oak hair, hiding his face from view. He hopes to stay away from the Oracles. To let his bruises heal more. As if the universe could hear him, rough hands shove him into the locker behind him, sending his books across the floor. A groan rings from his mouth, as laughing echoes out from all those around him. He finally peeks his gold colored eyes, to stare at the crowd of laughter. The Oracles, -Jason, Jackson, and Jayson- in the middle of it all. Jason brushes his rosemary colored hair out of his face, showing off his matching colored eyes, "What are you gonna do Midas?" Ryan mumbles, something along the lines of, "That's not my name." But that only causes more laughter. Jayson jeers at him, a smirk on his face, "Nothing. He ain't gonna do nothing." A slow smile creeps up Jackson's face, shushing everyone, "Do something. We can take it. Do it, Midas." A glare appears on Ryan's face, now more angry than fearful, "No." Jackson snorts, the cruel smile widening, "What? To much of a wuss?" Laughter booms the hallway, finally drawing eyes from the teachers, who promptly turn away. The laughter continues and continues and continues, until finally... Ryan snaps.     Silence enters the hallway, or at least, mostly silence. Ryan starts laughing. At what? Who knows. He doesn't even know what he's laughing at. Until finally he stops and silence meets everyone's ears. Until a broken boy's voice breaks the silence, "You think you can take me?" The sound of gloves being taken off. "That's good. I need to tan my hands anyway." Ryan's eyes meets the others, waiting, daring. Then finally, Jason lurches forward, aiming a fit to his head. An unfamiliar pale hand comes out to meet the fist. A pained scream ripples through the air, as his body turns to gold. Silence. Jayson and Jackson attempts, two more familiar statues. All three's hands ready to hit. All three's faces frozen, like a picture of pain. Silence. More and more jump, attacking, hoping. More and more statues are created. Silence.     Ryan saunters through the halls, his pale hands freed of their familiar cages. He keeps his head held high, his dark oak hair away from his face. He walks away from the crowd of statues. The pictures of the pain they've caused coming back to bite them.                                  He finally walks out, leaving behind the golden statues of King Midas.