Love Bites

The Rising Tide

I pushed open the door to my history class, a room totally barren except for the teacher, Mr. Pine, standing against the dry erase board, red marker twiddling against the white finish. The second I entered, his hand stilled in the midst of his notes, and he looked to me, brows furrowed curiously over wire-rimmed spectacles.

"Miss. Dolce? Can I help you?"

"Oh, no, sir. I—I have this class next, and I just thought I'd get an early start. You know...I didn't wanna be late?" Nor did I want to keep myself within grilling range of Lenna-frickin'-Hoff in the off chance she'd be in this class with me.

He stared at me a moment longer, contemplative, and shrugged. "Very well, have a seat." He turned back to the board to finish the notes, so I made my way for a desk in the front, where the only eyes on me would be those behind me, even though it was within clear range of Mr. Pine's sights. It confused me to see him here. Since I first started at Sitka High, he'd always been our school librarian. I'd never once spotted him in a classroom, other than for some other purposeful circumstance.

It was awkward sitting there in virtual silence except for the taps of the marker against the board. So I busied myself with retreating my class notebook and textbook from my heavily worn faux leather backpack, feeling mildly relieved when the bell signaling the end of first lunch rang. A minute later, students began pouring in, each one carrying a subtle hint of greasy pizza and or mystery meat aromas on their person.

I'd begun jotting down the notes from the board when my eyes wandered to the door and then widened like two gaping saucers across my face. I watched as Ethan trudged his way into the room, the last from the horde of students, just as the final bell rang. Sparing only a glance across the room and finding no available seats, his gaze instantly found the empty one beside me in the front, and his eyes roved upwards to my face.

I nearly toppled over at the small, but genuine smile he flashed at me, gracefully placing himself beside me.

I waited, terrified and undeniably eager for him to speak to me, but he said nothing as he shuffled through his bag for his supplies, and I deflated, both disappointed and relieved.

"Afternoon, everyone," Mr. Pine greeted us, turning to face the room. "I hope you've all enjoyed your summer holiday, goodness knows I did. Aruba is wonderful this time of year. As I'm sure you're all aware, there's been an unexpected change in your rosters.

Mr. Davenport will be unable to attend classes this semester, so I'll be filing in. Mrs. Wheeler will be overseeing library commerce until a full-time replacement can be found for Mr. Davenport. Until then, I would like for you all to turn to page seven hundred and seventy-seven."

"Real work? This blows."

Seeing as how my back was to him, I allowed myself the eye roll I wouldn't normally have the guts to expel in front of the same blond jock, Brody Sanderson, captain of the football team that had mocked me in first period that morning over the teacher's regrettable usage of my full name.

"The most we did in our other classes was get up to piss."

"Stop your bitching, Sanderson," Ethan snapped at the jock, without turning around in his seat to face him. "Save it for when Jessica nips you too close to the shaft."

Jostled, I clasped my hand over my mouth, just as Brody bounced to his feet, his chair slamming onto the floor behind him. The room went instantly still, all pointless chatter muted.

"What the f**k did you just say to me?" Brody's bulky physique towered over us, and I felt myself shrinking into the very depths of my chair, torn between keeping my seat beside Ethan—as little support as that would've been for him—or getting the heck outta dodge.

Ethan turned to him and raised his hands to the sides of his head in a falsely placid manner. "Hey, hey, it's cool. If she ever needs lessons on sap sipping, I'm available every day after practice—"

The punch went flying so quickly and agilely in Ethan's direction, that I barely had time to let out a squeal before my voice was stunted by the swiftness of Ethan's dodge, his body remaining immobile, with only his head swiveled to the side as the force of Brody's fist met with nothing but air.

"Mr. Sanderson," was Mr. Pine's small but fierce warning, as he came to loom over us, "that's quite enough. Take a walk, cool down. Mr. Pierce, to the dean's office. Now."

The only thing I could think of was how unlike him it was for Ethan, the peace-maker-and-ultimately-keeper, to purposely butt heads with anyone, and then drag someone that person cared for into the mix. Even if that someone was the promiscuous girlfriend of the world's biggest cretin in an overly priced bomber jacket. With his chest puffing in and out as if he'd just torn through a triathlon, Brody pointed a thick finger at Ethan's passive expression.

"Blacktop, after hours. Your ass is mine."

I saw the devilish quirk of a smirk instantly slither its way across Ethan's lips, and watched as they parted with the full intent of firing off some half-witted insult that I was sure would lead to nothing but trouble. Without thinking about it, and without any control over my limbs, my hand shot out for his arm, grasping his wrist in a loose hold. Ethan turned his head to me, and I was sure he could see the raving, pleading look on my face.

I'd like to think this was why he ultimately chose to remain quiet, as Brody bound his way out of the room, slamming his hulking body into the cheap wood of the door with a force that threatened to tear it off its hinges.

The first thing I noticed after the jock's dramatic exit was Ethan's features smoothing into its usual serene surface that had always been the standard outlook of his face. It was as if the snarling, trouble-making, hounder from just moments before had been some evil alter ego.

The second was that I still had a hold on him. With my face aflame, I snatched my hand back from his arm, allowing him to toss his books back into his bag, of which he threw over his shoulder, before heading out the door after Brody.

It worried me that now everyone's attention would be on me, as if I somehow provoked the altercation. But all eyes were on the door where both boys had retreated through, leaving behind the ominous promise of an after-school scramble.

✧✧✧✧✧

"C'mon, Didi, it's already three o'clock!"

Prudence's hold on my arm was like a handcuff, as she dragged me through the lessening halls towards the parking lot. News of Ethan's and Brody's oncoming war-zone debacle had spread across campus within a matter of hours.

"I can't believe he would do this to me!" she shrieked petulantly.

"Yeah," I huffed absently, jogging clumsily behind her. "What did he do again?"

"This whole pig slop of a mess with the football team could cost me the running for homecoming queen!"

Prue turned a sharp corner and I was left running for another foot before realizing she wasn't ahead of me anymore until she yanked me back by the arm to meet her. No sooner had we matched pace did we have to slow due to the thickening crowd that had formed at the front of the school. Taking no account of the cramped bodies before her, Prudence began shoving people aside, with me following the trail she made through the assemblage.

"Hey—move! Move outta my way, I'm the girlfriend! I belong on the front line—MOVE!" She smacked some guy's shaven head to get him out of her way, and he, in turn, flipped her the bird.

It was then that we reached the small clearing that had been made where Ethan and Brody were standing at opposite points of the circle. Brody had taken his jacket off and had rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows, exposing boulder-like biceps underneath, while Ethan stood calmly across from him, not even looking at him, but at the surrounding greenery beyond the back of the school, eyes narrowed and scrutinizing again, as he had been doing with me earlier that morning.

He didn't look the least bit rattled.

"All right, f**k boy, I'm right here." Brody splayed his arms at his sides while his goons egged them on from his back.

"C'mon, baby!" Prudence screeched from the sidelines. "Show him what for!"

"Show him what for?" I echoed in disbelief. She waved me away, her gaze shooting toward the Three Lyns, who came squeezing through the people behind us.

"Prue! We got here as soon as we could!" Heatherlyn Rodwell, the straight-haired blonde, came to grasp her friend's wrist, face scrunched in worriment as she turned to me. "Progress report," she demanded crudely.

"Well, I mean, it's only the first day...but I think I'm a shoo-in for Chambers'. His entire lesson plan is, like, as basic as the synopsis for a Dr. Seuss book—"

"No, you i***t!" she snapped sourly, and I felt my hackles rise. But of course, I said nothing. "I mean on Prue. How is she?"

My anger waned in the face of my confusion. "Why are you asking me? She's standing right there." I tried not balking at the glare Heatherlyn sent my way.

"I'm fine, God." Prue wasn't paying Heatherlyn much mind, nor had she spared so much as a glance at Amberlyn, who had busied herself with fanning her face with her hand, as if Prue was hammering through menopause.

"COME ON, E-MAN!" came Roland's cheering cry from somewhere within the crowd. Soon, he and his older brother, Jeremiah, shoved their way to the front, just behind Ethan. "This guy ain't s**t!"

Brody's military buzzed cut, blond head snapped in his direction. "Shut-up, Steinbeck! After I finish off this asshole, you're next. HEY!" Brody took a step towards Ethan, who still wasn't looking at him, but was now locked in a staring match with Jarell, which was as intense as the oncoming fight between Ethan and his bulky assailant. The entire pack was there, a flurry of amusement, annoyance, and even relieved expressions showcasing on their faces.

I couldn't make sense of any of it.

The jock stepped forward again. "I'm talking to you, dickweed! LOOK AT ME!"

"Brody," Ethan finally turned to him, face calm and reserved, nothing like this morning. "If you still want to pursue this, then let's go. Otherwise, let's just forget all about it and go home."

Brody yanked his head back and barked out a scornful guffaw, his jock friends eagerly joining in. "You guys hearing this?" He called back to his footballer posse with another shrill chortle, while Prue was snapping at anyone within hearing range to shut-up. "The man's pussying out on me!"

"Brody!" I recognized Jessica's voice from the horde of students surrounding us. She emerged from the line and took her boyfriend's arm. "Just forget him and come on. This is stupid!"

"Get off me, Jess!" Brody roared, shoving her away with enough force to send her stumbling back into a few students. "Stay the f**k out of this."

"Isn't that romantic, Ken?" chirped Lenna Hoff from somewhere in Brody's direction. "Domestic abuse always just does it for me. I swear it must be raining out here. Possible oncoming tsunami."

I was shocked by Brody's cruelty, never expecting him to resort to physicality towards his own girlfriend, and found myself moving forward to help Jessica. But in a flash, she straightened to her feet and turned to leave back through the portal of gawping spectators, never once looking back.

When Ethan's crouched body blocked my view of her, I then became fixated on his serene expression. I'd heard from Prue that he could hold his own in a brawl, and I didn't want to doubt his abilities. But in her eyes, Ethan could do no wrong. Through her constant boasts about him, I could believe he was a world-renowned brain surgeon who became the first man on the moon with a master's in computer science.

I caught Roland filming the spectacle with his phone from my peripheral, my concern leading into panic when Brody made a sharp angle in Ethan's direction, charging for him. "Pierce, you are so dead."

In the final second before Brody's fist collided with his face, Ethan ducked out of the way and stood tall from Brody's place, watching the jock swing back around to face him, teeth clenched and snarling.

"I'M GONNA END YOU!" he boomed, looking ready to charge again, but with the parting of the crowd came a new voice.

"The only thing ending right now is whatever this is." Dean Watts came prancing out from the door, thin face a fiery red sheen, jabbing a quaking finger towards Ethan and Brody.

"Classes ended at three PM. Any unauthorized stragglers after that time are trespassers. Everyone go home, NOW, or the police will be involved." That was all it took for the spectators to begin making their way to their cars or treks on foot. I felt my body sag in relief.

"Thank God," Prue squeaked, a dainty hand splayed over her heart.

"Aw, c'mon, after all that build-up?" Roland looked about ready to cry. Which, if you didn't know him, you'd think was unusual considering Ethan was his friend. But in Roland Steinbeck's world, very little, if anything at all, came before money.

My hunch was proven correct when I saw him turn to a few snickering guys from my fourth period and reluctantly slap down a couple of twenties into their hands.

"You're lucky," he grumbled, irately, "my boy would've had it."

"What a letdown." Cortez tilted his head back and yawned something akin to a bear's sleepy groan. "Then let's hit the Mean Queen for a slice! Who's buying?"

"You two!" The remaining students turned to the dean. "I hear about this happening again and it's an automatic suspension." The dean's beady gaze was set solely onto Ethan's. "I've already dealt with you once today, Mr. Pierce. I don't know what's gotten into you this year—senior syndrome perhaps—but that thin sheet of ice you're on is cracking. I better not hear you've been starting trouble again, or else."

Roland turned and huffed under his breath, "It's senior-itis."

Brody was led away to his truck by his footballer friends, the whole time making obscene cut-throat gestures with his hands in Ethan's direction. Once he'd driven off, Dean Watts raked his way back into the school, leaving the slowly dispersing crowd to tend to themselves.

"Go on, get home. Nothing to see here—I mean really. There's nothing to see, dammit, and it's cost me eighty bucks." Roland was then yanked back by his collar through Jeremiah's aggravated grip.

I was sure nobody else caught the nod of apparent approval from Jarell to Ethan, as he and his gang turned to leave. With a sigh, Prue threw her arms over Ethan's neck, a chaste peck turning into a full-on make-out mash-up right in front of me and the Three Lyns. While they looked genuinely elated with their pack leader having scored the goods, I turned away from the spectacle that, in my opinion, was almost as horrifying as the one we had all nearly been subjected to, had the fight been allowed to progress.

"Hey, guys, we're meeting Joaquin—ugh, gross." Jeremiah turned from the horrid scene as I did, with his eyes pinched closed. "That little homecoming shindig he was talking about this morning is over at Mean Queen. You in?"

With another echoing SPLACK that signaled it was safe to turn back around, Prue clapped her hands in kiddish joviality.

"I'll meet you guys there. I have to take care of a little something first." Ethan pressed a final peck onto Prue's mouth, which was set in a firm pout of disapproval.

"Just don't take too long, honey," she whined pitchingly. "It's not much of a 'shindig' without you."

"Yeah, honey. And make sure you pick up a set of testies on your way back." Roland's laugh was cut short by a single jab in the gut by Katelyn.

"C'mon, Didi—pizza!" Prue's enthusiasm confused me, seeing as how she avoided anything with GMOs, high carbs, and more than ten grams of sugar. But I followed silently after her, taking a glance back to Ethan, who was making his way for the remainder of the Hardy Boys, who were all lounging behind together in the back end of the parking lot waiting for him.