As I close my locker, a girl, who I believe is from my geography class, comes up to me.

"Hey, Duckie," she says, a red blush across her face. I wave.

"Hello."

"I'm Su. I know you don't know me that well, but do you wanna grab a bite after school?" 

I shrug. "I was going to eat a bologna sandwich after school." I say. 

"How about going out to eat?" She starts leaning closer to me. 

I am about to answer, when Brick (my least favorite fish) starts up his banter. 

"Dumbass, she's flirting!" he says. I think about it. 

"Su is flirting with you!" Carmen (the loudest) yells. "She wants to go on a date!"

"I have to agree with these oafs." Alex (the smartest fish) says. He has a thick British accent. "Su is being quite flirtatious."

Ericson (the, well, dumb one) keeps running into the inside of my skull like a fish in a tank.

I decide to test their theories. "Are you flirting with me?"

The fish groan in unison. Su giggles nervously. 

"Well, I guess. But, if-"

"Well, then, I have better things to do than eat with a girl I don't know." I say. Carmen starts yelling. Brick begins calling me a bunch of obscenities. Alex shakes his head, his monocle almost falling off. Su bites get lip and flips her hair over her shoulder. "They were right. You're just a stiff!"

She sashays off. I shrug as the bell rings for last period. I have art.

                                                          ooo

I walk into class. The art teacher, a 75-year-old woman, greets me.

"Hello, Darling." she says.

"It's Duckie, not Darling, Ms. Freemeier." I correct.

As class begins, Ms. Freemeier holds up a brown piece of construction paper. "Today, we'll be making hand turkeys for Thanksgiving." she says.

I hold up my hand.

"Yes, Buckie?" she says.

"It's Duckie, not Buckie, Ms. Freemeier. And Thanksgiving was four months ago."

Ms. Freemeier blinks, and nods. "Thank you, Debbie. So," she thinks for a moment. "We'll make hand turkeys for Thanksgiving!"

                                                         ooo

The final bell rings. I walk out of school, and head for the sidewalk, when Francis, a boy who hates me, cuts me off.

"Hey, Ontario." he says. "I had a great night last night."

I shrug and try to walk past him. "Good for you."

He stops me. "What about you, Ontario? You still a virgin, aye asshole?" He shoves me, and I hit the gravel.

"That's none of your business, Francis." I try to get up, but he sets his foot on my chest.

"You're a gay, aren't ya, Ontario? You fucking guys, huh?" He presses his foot onto my chest. 

"Francis, st-" I try to talk, but I can't.

"Punch him, Moron!" Brick yells at me.

Carmen yells, too.

"You're gay, Ontario. You fuck guys every night, huh? You love that unnatural taste, huh?" Francis adds more pressure to my chest. I grip at his boot but I'm too weak to move it. "Admit it, Ontario!"

Suddenly, a large horn blast comes from the road, and a man yells.

"Get the hell off of him, shitbag!" he yells. Francis falls back. "I got your face on camera, so leave him the hell alone or I'm sending this to the cops!"

Francis, who I'm pretty sure wet his pants, ran off, and the man drove away.

"Who was that?" Alex asks.

"I don't know," Brick says. "But he just saved our ass."