The moment that I step outside
So many reasons
For me to run and hide
I can't do the little things
I hold so dear
'Cause it's all those little things
That I fear

Just a Girl ~ No Doubt

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So where to eat my lunch is going to be a problem for me today. Starting with I have never been particularly popular here in hell. Once upon a time, most of my so-called friends were really more my teammates than anything else? But after my major meltdown last year, I don't really have many of those left. The few new fake friends that I made last year, were really more of my X-assholes friend's girlfriends? So I am pretty much persona-non-grata at that particular pity party.

So I am faced with the lessor of several evil choices. I can go ahead and try to brave the lunch shelter and back to school bullshit. Sit sadly by myself in the center of some slut shamming seance ring. Eavesdropping in on the never-ending supply of rumors with gossipmongers. Catch up on all the summertime hookups and breakups of popular people that I don't care about.

Or I can always head over to the Athletic Department and eat with my dad, in his 'old sock and jock' smelling office. Yet another perk of having your father being the head football coach at your school. Save for the fact that his office is Jock Strap central. So pretty much the one place on the planet I want to avoid like the plague. So I will do pretty much do anything short of cutting school to avoid that shitshow right at the moment.

Or I can evoke a senior privilege and eat anywhere I want on campus? Yeah, I think any rational person can see where I am going with that line of logic?

I am almost tempted to go to the senior parking lot and eat in my car, save for two things. First, it's hot enough already, that my little hybrid electric car is going to be a sauna today. And two that's also where I used to go to hook up with my X-Asshole. He was a huge fan of the lunchtime bang break, or the blow and go. Yet another memory I don't really need to relive on today of all days.

So yeah, I opt for not doing that for all the obvious reasons, starting with my mental health. So I chose to brave the great outdoors, to see if I can find a shady spot to call my very own. So seeing that the baseball bleachers are always almost empty'ish? Well, save for the artsy stoners who hang out up at the top corner vaping "something". Although I heard they got busted last year at the end of school. So hopefully they are somewhere else this year, at some secret stoner spot smoking their brains out.

So I am eating by myself, on the sparsely populated baseball bleachers. Just sitting all alone and admiring the beautiful job the groundskeepers have done to the baseball field in the offseason. Seems the groundskeeping staff has gone all in this year, with a Wrigley Field parquet look. All those perfect little grass diagonal diamonds are cut so sharp, they are almost moving in their perfection. Like a work of garden art, and not just some overly manicured weeds, for wanna be high school baseball stars to spit on for the next nine months. Although one upside the constant spitting of baseball boys, must cut down on the cost of watering. So I suppose there's that advantage?

Oddly enough, I am not the only one I almost know on the emptyish baseball bleachers. Or at least sort of recognize from my foul first morning back to hell. It seems that ol' Quetzicotal from Sex Science class is apparently out all alone, enjoying the afternoon sun as well. As he drifts by my shady spot, our eyes meet for a moment. I have that sinking suspicion sixth-sense, where I think he is gonna make his big move. Try to strike up a conversation with a chick who clearly does not give a shit to be spoken to.

Surprisingly, Quetzy merely nods nonchalantly in my general direction while passing. Then takes a spot a decent distance up the way from me in the shade of the announcing booth. I guess ol' Quetzy has already had his fill of first-day-fun conversation too, probably no thanks to Starvin' Marvins crazy cakes.

Ten minutes later, I am not even halfway through my standard avocado & tuna salad sandwich on sourdough, when I am forced to deal with the return of some stupid. Kyle Reilly is back bothering again, for round two in the battle to see who is the stupidest of them all. Standing in the striped shade of the bleacher benches blinking up at me with a confused look on his stupid face.

"Hey Roxanne, quick question?" Without waiting for an answer, he immediately starts whining at me to pay attention to his pain. "When we talked this morning, I was under the impression that you didn't want to go with me to Shep's party on Saturday?"

"Yeah, and your point?" I cut him short.

"Well, I just talked to Raider? Who just told me, that you told him this morning, that you were already going with me to Sheps?" He blinks his big baby blue eyes back at me, clearly confused.

Which pretty much confirms for me everything I need to know about what's going on. All the boys are running their foul mouths again and talking Hit List shit on chicks. It only took three periods on a short day for Kyle Riley to touch base with Kurtis, and whoever else he thinks he's in competition with for my points.

"So help me out here, what am I missing?" He blinks up at me waiting for a reply.

"So what are you missing?" I muse. "Well let's see..." ...a brain, a clue, a pair of balls, a sharp blow to the head with a hunting hatchet? So many many choices of what you are missing at the moment Kyler.

Yeah, this is just way to easy an opening for me to be a bitch. But what I really don't need is this idiot running his mouth, all about just how crazy cakes I am. Besides I'm pretty sure that either Lance or The Dreck will do the honors for me.

"So Kurtis said some words huh? Well, there's the huge problem with your statement right there." I point out the obvious flaw in this idiot's stupidity. "Kurtis just told you some shit, right? So what does that tell you, Kyle?"

"Ah...so does that mean you changed your mind, and are going to Shep's party with me?" He blinks back up at me with his beautiful baby blue eyes.

Translation: So I still have a shot at scoring with you? Well, after you get wasted enough to lose that bitchy attitude problem you got rocking on the regular?

"No Kyler, that means don't listen to Kurtis. And don't bother me with this Pong-Bong-Bang bullshit again." I wave him away. "Oh, and you can tell all the other idiots who think they might have a shot hitting me up today? Thanks but no thanks, they can all kindly fuck off and die now. So that all the rest of them just stay the hell away from me and leave me in what little peace I have left."

"Now if you don't mind I really need to...do something else besides have this conversation?" I glance over at Quetzy, who is almost paying attention to all this nonsense now. 

His icy eyes meet mine, then drift down to Kyle Reilly. A slow scowl darkens his eyes, as Quetzy gives Kyle a bro-style chin check. Kyle Reilly gives him a cautious chin checking back. Probably because Kyler doesn't know Quetzy from a hole in the head, therefore he is suddenly unsure of himself.

Now any other guy worth a shit, would have immediately started talking smack to Quetzy to prove how tough he was. "What do you think you are you looking at asshole?" Would have been the standard opening shit-talking line about minding his own business about now. Or one of any other of the hundred or so stupid things boys say to start fights. But like I said before, one of the things I have never liked about Kyle Reilly is that I am pretty sure he is a coward at heart. 

"Waz'zup bro? You got beef?" Quetzy intones casually, but the scowl darkened his eyes says this is anything but casual conversation now.

"Ah...no?" Kyle kind of stammers back on the attack. 

"So then why are you still standing there hassling this girl? After she already told you to get gone twice?" Quetzy says with a note of finality and the scowling silent staring thing is back.

And we have a winner! Turns out that ol' Quetzacoatl is clearly no stranger to danger after all. Seems that he picked up a thing or two about trash-talking during his time in the Amazon. 

Now there is a sudden silence that hangs between the three of us at this moment. An unmistakable undercurrent of strange surreality starts to fall over our corner of the baseball bleachers. Almost like Quetzacoatl's dark aura has expanded outward to encompass all of us in an odd deathly stillness.

"Yeah, I think I gotta go..." Kyle drifts away like he was never there, pretending that everything is all cool.

"Don't let me stop you from getting gone." I wave him away absently.

After Kyle scuttles away back from whence he came, I turn back around on Quetzy. I am almost tempted to thank him for his almost honorable attempt at trash-talking. But then again it's not like I needed his help taking out the trash?

"Something on your mind, sport?" I inquire casually over at Quetzicotal.

"Once upon, I had a friend that had a similar problem with the guys at her school." Quetzy nods over to the ghost of Kyler's past fading away.

"Oh yeah, and what was that?" I ask back, as if I actually care.

"A lot of unwanted attention from guys, who apparently don't know how to take 'no' for an answer?" He shrugs. 

"Oh yeah, and what happened to her?" I hate to admit this but I am curious about other people's tragedies. Just on the off chance, that they're any more interesting than my own. I guess I have more in common with Starving Marvin than some self-esteem issues? 

"She got herself a fox boy, to do her fighting for her." He smiles strangely for a second, then shakes off some errant thought. 

"A fox boy?" I snort back. "Is that some sort of funny furry thing?" 

"Fox as in faux?" He frowns down at the lost translation. "Like that faux fur?" 

"Oh...okay." I smirk, oddly this actually makes some sense to me now. "Not to be a know-it-all or anything? But I think that's pronounced Fo ...like fee-fi-fo-fum? Or the Vietnamese Pho noodle soup stuff? Not like the animal, no offense?"

"None taken," he shrugs me off. "Where I come from we pronounce the X in everything. It's kinda a Texas thang to do? Sort of like saying thang, instead of thing?"

Okay, so out by old Mexico way actually translates to Texas. An almost interesting factiod about cowboy Quetzalcoatl.

"Trust me, you're not the only one with avoidance issues at the moment." He sighs and glances over at the crowded lunch shelter. "Why do you think I'm out dining out here in the elements, hoping to go unnoticed? It was either this or the library?"

"So what's your damage then?" I inquire.

"Would you believe, The Crusades?" He smirks and shakes his head.

"The Crusades?"

"Yeah, that dude from our class this morning, keeps following me around, bugging me about joining his campus crusade?" He shrugs. "But I am not really a joiner, so not really my thing. So yeah, here I am hiding out trying to avoid the noise."  

"Ah, you mean Starvin' Marvin?" I snort in retort. "Yeah, he's got a thing for causes and Crusades. But Marvin is mostly harmless to the rest of humanity. Just tell him that you are firmly not interested in helping humanity. That you like drinking, doing drugs and satanic heavy metal. Throw in a little strange sex sin stuff and he'll pretty much leave you alone."

"Okay, thanks for the advice." He nods along, as if he is taking my sarcastic to heart. 

When the warning bell rings for the end of lunch, Quetzy stands up and lazily stretches out his back. He is taller than I first thought, with nicely muscular ass by the looks of his jeans. I glance away before he can catch me checking him out. The last thing I really need is to give new guy the wrong idea.

"Well, it was nice to meet you. So good luck with your troubles..." He drifts off awkwardly. "Ah, I'm sorry I'm a little hazy on your name. You're Leanne, right?"

"No, Leanne was the weirdly cool Wiccan chick from class? I'm the other one, Roxanne. But all my imaginary friends call me Roxy." I think this is a pretty clever introduction under the stupid circumstances.  

"Right...Roxy." He repeats slowly as if he needs help memorizing my name. "Well, nice to meet you, Roxy."

"You too ...dude?" Which comes out kind of awkward, seeing I never bothered to remember his name. 

"Kelly." He finishes the thought for me.

"Oh yeah, and thanks for the fake boyfriend thing, Kelly? Who knows that might actually come in handy someday?" I snort in retort. "You know, if I ever get time transported back to the 1980's where that might actually fly."

"The more you know...right Roxy?" He waves his hand across the sky like a rainbow.

With that last nonsensical koan dropped, he wanders off towards the art building. Which makes some sense, seeing the shaggy Kurt Cobain hair makes him look like some sloppy grunge artist guy. I notice that he has a smooth rolling gait going down the bleachers. But there was something oddly annoying about the way he constantly uses both hands to reach into his bulky sweatshirt and tug down his t-shirt collar?

Funny thing after having lunch with Quetzicotal is that I almost feel clean again. Like talking normally to someone who doesn't know all about me and my crazy cakes? Not to mention, my many meltdown issues, was almost refreshing instead of just slightly irritating? 

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