Spencer

“Pancakes? Oh hell yes!”

“Spencer!” his mother promptly snapped as Spencer followed the delicious aroma of the fluffy cakes into the kitchen. “Language!”

He couldn’t help but grin, shrugging off her poor attempt at aggravation before grabbing a container of orange juice and pouring two tall glasses of pulpy goodness. Without acknowledging her smile at the gesture, Spencer plopped down at the breakfast bar and grabbed three of the wonky-shaped pancakes from the serving plate.

“Still having a hard time getting them to be a circle, huh?” he joked, reaching for the tub of butter and syrup she had rested there.

“Hey,” she managed to fire back as she took her own seat, her rose-stained lips pulling into a devilish grin, “you only get to make fun of my very shapely pancakes when you manage to show me up. Eventually. Probably never though.”

A shaking head dipped low to stare at the floor couldn’t hide Spencer’s huffing laughter. The woman was always like this. Forever trapped in the snarky, sarcastic mindset of a high schooler like him. The duo got along so well that when people asked who Spencer’s best friend was, he always responded with “Jenny”.

What? It wasn’t like he was fucking telling the whole school that his best friend was his mother. Being pegged as a mama’s boy in the last year of high school was nonexistent on his list of things to do this year. But their relationship hadn’t always been this solid, and he refused to return to what it had been.

So, instead, Spencer bent the truth to his will. It was a common practice of his, a learned defense mechanism developed in the scrutiny and injustices of Freshman year. Jenny—as she was known amongst unknowing peers—was an older, classier woman who was in college to retain a Chef’s Certification. It fit too, considering she was an amazing cook, but she was an even better friend.

There were only two that knew every little sliver of Spencer’s slick tongue. Story hidden only slightly with truth revealed to them as though it came from their very lips. Whenever Jenny came up in conversation with their classmates, Spencer’s cover was always put at risk at their obnoxiously similar laughs and hushed whispers of confidentiality. It was only a matter of time before they became the death of him….

“Well,” his mother started, pulling Spencer out of his thoughts as she began dishing out her plate, “what do you think about those ones?”

“They’re really good,” I analyzed, refocusing my attention on the delicious food in front of me. “Brown sugar for sure. You kinda burnt it on the bottom.”

Jenny winced at the statement. “Yeah, I realized too late that it wasn’t a good idea. Just doesn’t cook in the batter as well as I’d hoped. Maybe as a topping next time?”

“That or maybe add some butter and cinnamon for a strudel?”

She nodded her head. “I was thinking that, too. Or Foster’s sauce.”

“Oh hell yeah!”

“Spencer! Language!”

“Pfft,” he chuckled in response. When all she did is scowl, he quickly said, “Sorry, sorry.”

A smile situated itself comfortably over her soft lips, but there was a knowing glint in her eyes. Cursing in the house was one thing. Controlling it outside was another and his mother knew that.

“There’s more,” she continued as another bite hid itself behind her lips.

There was. “Strawberries, and…” Spencer tapped his fingers on the table in contemplation, taking another bite to confirm his suspicion. “White chocolate?”

Spencer’s mother grinned with excited anticipation and nodded. “One more.”

Pinching his brows together in mild confusion, Spencer took another bite. As he chewed thoughtfully, he recognized a mildly crunchy ingredient. One that he was all too familiar with.

“Coconut?” Spencer looked at her and shook his head in disappointment. “Mom, you gotta stop it with the coconut! Just stop!”

She giggled like a schoolgirl that hadn’t just been insulted by her son’s words and replied, “But, Spence! Coconut is so good!”

“Mom,” Spencer said, chuckling despite every muscle in his face trying to convince her he was being serious, “at this rate, everything in the restaurant is going to have coconuts!”

She retorted by sticking out her tongue.

“Very mature, Jenny,” Spencer chuckled, shaking his head as he polished off the last of his pancake and started work on the next one.

She gave him an indignant look at the sound of his voice saying her name but chose not to make too much of it. Instead, she started eating her own heaping plate, smiling at herself in a satisfied kind of way.

Man. The restaurant she was planning on opening…. yeah, it’d have a lot of fucking coconuts.

A sputtered cough and a tremble shook the car before it stopped altogether. Spencer knew the beater didn’t like the heat, but she’d survived the summer so he thought he was out of the danger zone. He was wrong. Here they were in early fall and the heat had crippled the poor metal box right in front of the parking lot entrance.

“Fuuuuuck,” Spencer drawled as the horns of impatient students berated his skull. He turned off the car and tried turning her over again in a futile attempt to move out of their way to no avail. Spencer knew it wouldn’t amount to anything, but at least now he could say he tried.

“Mr. Fernsby,” the current pedestrian supervisor greeted through Spencer’s open window. “Again?”

Spencer rolled his eyes. It was bad enough that he stalled out in front of his whole class. He didn’t need someone commenting on how often it’s happened already. “Yes, a-fucking-gain, Mr. Gatson.”

“Language,” he barked, tapping on his Bluetooth earbud. Everyone had something to say about Spencer’s carefully chosen words. “Yes, Mr. Gatson at the North entrance. I need Ms. Barkley to—ah, yeah. It’s Fernsby again.”

Leather squeaked as Spencer slid down his seat in embarrassment. School had only been back in session for two months and already this had become a thing. So much for making a lasting impression in Senior year. Well, maybe it’d be lasting but certainly not the way he’d wanted.

Didn’t take long before Ms. Barkley and her tiny herd of zero-hour students reached Spencer’s crippled car. They tinkered with the engine, checked all the fluids, added a few of their own.

Krispy-Creme: [Sent 7:49 AM] u ok? Rainie’s already fucked the entire chałka loaf but I managed to grab you a piece.

Krispy-Creme: [Sent 7:50 AM] I expect something in return btw. She fucking bit my finger >:(

Spencer laughed at the second text just as his car’s engine turned over.

Me: [Sent 7:50 AM] omw. chill.

Students huddled around the car whooped and hollered their success into the uncharacteristically warm air. High-fives were passed along and Spencer shamefully accepted a few of them along with their subsequent snickers and teasing words. By the time Spencer was situated in the seat, magma was already melting his face off from sheer embarrassment. They were lucky he managed a mumbled, “Thanks,” before speeding deeper into the parking lot.

Despite having three separate entrances, the school’s parking was all in the same lot. Any efforts Spencer had made to be here early enough for his spot had been crucified. Bright side, the solar panels near the back shaded every space they stood over. It made the weak breeze slightly cooler and, hopefully, would protect the old vehicle from the sun’s vicious onslaught.

Downside was the long trek leading uphill toward the school. The distance wasn’t the issue. Just the climb.

Kissing the back of his teeth, Spencer reached for his inhaler and swung his bag over his shoulders before starting his journey. By the time he reached the top, he’d needed the little canister twice and was still huffing as he leaned against the fence.

“—assholes!”

Spencer recognized the voice in that single, infuriated word.

“We’ve got games tonight and Corwin’s gonna be fucking pissed if I can’t play tonight because you were busy throwing your weight around. Again.”

“Come on, Koala baby! It’s just a little fun! We always give you the chance to swing ba—”

A scoff. “You know I can’t put a scratch on you. It’s part of the reason you do it. Otherwise, you two nutjobs would be nothing more than fucking dirt.”

Time slowed as Spencer watched the larger companion swing, his open hand connecting with Caleb’s chest before he had any time to dodge. Spencer knew the hit wouldn’t cause any bruising, but it did make Caleb stumble backward, collapsing with his bike in tow. He let out a pained umph at the fall.

“See? It’s fine. We never said anything about touching your legs,” the shorter of the two cackled.

“Fuck. You. Arnold,” Caleb growled between gasps of air as he struggled to stand.

Arnold was about to hit him again, but Spencer had substantially closed the distance. He ripped the football jock away and threw him to the ground. For being a football player, the fucker was surprisingly light. Probably helped that Spencer had years of Aikido aiding him.

“Back off. Both of you,” Spencer hissed through clenched teeth. He wasn’t quite in stance, but he was close enough to get into it if needed.

Arnold sized Spencer up, taking his own stance.

“Arnold!”

The roar was from another aggravatingly familiar voice and it had Arnold stopped in his tracks looking like his life had just flashed before his eyes. Another jock, except this one was worse. Football team captain and quarterback, Jesse Keen. Fantastic.

Sandy-blonde hair, a delicious tan, and an ego that outpaced everyone at this school, Jesse took the quarterback bully trope and turned it entirely on its head. To the majority, he stood up for the defenseless. Took action against bullies whenever he was in just enough light to build a crowd and boost his reputation.

Stuck behind the bleachers? Sucks to be you. Only potheads and assholes—two separate types of people, mind you—hang out back there, and neither group will bring the attention Jesse’s looking for. In that way, Spencer saw him just as much of an asshole as the rest of the team. The only difference was this weird, uncomfortable soft spot the guy had for the twins that left a disdainful metallic taste in Spencer’s mouth. Still, he took the opportunity to help Caleb up.

The short kid muttered a quiet, “Thanks,” as he righted his bike and adjusted his shoulder bag.

“I was just playin’ with ‘im, Jesse, I swear!” Arnold defended, his hands raised in a non-threatening manner. “I didn’t even hit ‘im that hard!”

People were beginning to gather, looking on from afar.

It’s because of their onlooking that impression was a far cry from the expression Jesse wore. “Next time I catch you ‘playing around’ with Kowalczyk, you’ll be benched for the season.” His umber eyes narrowed. “You only still have your balls attached because we need you for tomorrow’s game. Don’t. Push it.”

Arnold swallowed hard and nodded a little too vigorously. He gathered his pal and sauntered off before Jesse could say anything else, casting enraged scowls at Caleb as they passed. Jesse followed after them, a nonchalant shrug and a smile as he passed Spencer.

“One day they’ll learn, I swear. Thanks for helping him up while I took care of them, Fernsby.”

The fucking nerve. But Caleb was on his feet and looked better than he usually did in these situations, so Spencer chose to ignore Jesse’s words altogether.

With the threat gone, Spencer finally allowed his tense muscles to relax as he brushed dirt and grass from Caleb’s back. There wasn’t much to be done about the specs of mud that had already seeped through the fabric of his beige t-shirt, though. Better than nothing.

“I thought you had them taken care of,” Spencer chided as he double-checked that Caleb wasn’t injured. “That’s the only reason I don’t pick you up in the morning. You told us this wasn’t happening anymore. What gives?”

Caleb’s caramel glare darkened around the little brown flecks scattered throughout his irises. “I had it taken care of,” he hissed, rubbing his chest and scowling at the pain it wrought. “Rainie submitted an anonymous complaint to the board. They promised to post another teacher at the school entrance, and they did last week, but,” he gestured around them, at the noticeably lacking security, “doesn’t mean they kept their word.”

“Caleb,” Spencer groaned, running an exasperated hand over his face. “Why didn’t you send me a text this morning?”

“Because, jackass,” he seethed, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “Friday wasn’t a problem and today’s fucking Monday. If I’d known they were gonna pull Miss Canter from the doors, I might have texted you.”

“Might?”

Caleb let out an aggrieved sigh. “Listen, even if I had been aware of it, you know that telling either of you anything would fuck the only other workout I have outside of school.”

“So stay after practice!” Spencer’s voice rose and he scowled at himself for losing his temper. More softly, he continued, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. Listen, Caleb…. the last time this happened, you couldn’t come to school for three fucking days.”

“I can’t stay after school, Spence. You know how strict my parents are about curfew and, even if they weren’t, it’s not like the school grounds are open past extra currics.”

“You can’t keep letting this happen, either.”

Fury burdened those heavy caramel eyes even further than they already were. “I’m not letting anything happen!” he shouted. “All I’m trying to do is get extra endurance training in before school and after practice. That’s it! That’s all I fucking want! You and Rainie are always talking shit about how I shouldn’t risk coming here on my bike, but if you actually fucking cared, you’d do more than tell me to fucking ‘handle it’! We don’t live that far apart and I know you have a bike. Stop acting like I’m the asshole for being bullied!”

Pebbles hissed as Caleb pivoted, feet carrying him so quickly from the scene that Spencer hardly knew what to do with himself. Heart clenching with guilt and remorse, Spencer finally pulled himself out of the initial shock and trailed behind Caleb at a far slower pace.