Whiffs and Mulligans - part 3

[mekachu04]

Kidd & Killer met in 7th grade shop class.
Two outsiders with nothing in common other than having no friends. Both new to the school, Kidd too young, Killer too old.


Maybe not friends, but its nice to have one class where not everyone actively tries to disclude you.

---

Chapters will likely be short, a class by class look as the two move though the school year.

halfway through the term, and Kidd was doing good - but not as well as he thought he should be. He had a 4.0 in the rest of his classes, but he hadn't yet topped the board for shop class. His works were more creative than anyone else's, and more complex. but he just couldn't seem to get the coveted perfect marks.

and then the weirdo he'd been stuck with did something no one saw coming. He still had his hat on - it started on, everyday, until roll call. and it went back on the second they were dismissed. Admittedly, Kidd was curious if he did that for every class, or if he'd actually managed to get a teacher or two to let him keep wearing it. but he also had something in his hands, twisting them nervously under the desk as Kidd took his seat next to him.

and then, Keillan MacFergus said his first words to Kidd Eustass, after half a term of sitting only a foot or two from him. "These are smaller than the class gloves. They should fit you better." and then set a pair of well worn and broken in leather work gloves at Kidd's elbow. He never looked over, still staring at the table in front of them.

They were just as thick as the class gloves, but much smaller, and Kidd understood the phrase 'fit like a glove' for the first time when he hesitantly tried them on. He looked at his seat partner in confusion.

Keillan didn't look back, seeming to slouch once he felt Kidd's gaze on him, "should make it easier to hold the tools, give you better control."

and they did. Kidd turned in his cleanest piece. got his first perfect score. the teacher had looked over his gloves and approved them, "glad to see you taking initiative to get your own pair."

Kidd couldn't help but notice that Keillan still used the class gloves.

His classmates even oohed over his new gloves, complimenting them. saying how expensive they musta been.

When the bell rang, Kidd asked Keillan to wait, he wanted to talk to him. Saw him flinch when his classmates snickered, when one of them was leaning into Kidd's space, and warned him about being alone with the boy - he was so poor, he might try to steal Kidd's gloves. He's so gay he might try to assault him.

Kidd wasn't impressed with either variation, and lost any chance of making a friend with those boys when he sneered at /them/ in disgust instead of Keillan.

"You'll have to talk fast," Keillan said finally, coiling his braid back up to put on his hat "Before the teacher leaves. I'm not supposta be alone with any other kids."

Which was a weird ass statement if Kidd ever heard one.

"What the deal with the gloves" Kidd settled for, even though he had a million other questions he'd rather ask.

he could tell by the way Keillan's hat moved he was looking at Kidd , before, "they don't fit me no more, and i saw the class gloves were too big. you can throw them away if you don't want them."

and then Keillan hurried to leave, and Kidd saw the calculating look on the teacher's face as Keillan shuffeld past him.

Kidd kept the gloves.

---

They were working on their final project, only a week or so left of the term, when Kidd turned away from the door when he tried to go to class. Infact, all of them were turned away, all but Keillan.

He alone was asked to come in the shop room, the rest waiting in the hall, for a good ten minutes.

When the rest of them were finally allowed in, Keillan was sitting in his usual spot. hat off, head bowed. but as the rest of them got to work after roll call, only Keillan remained unmoving.

there were harsh laughs in his direction, whispers of things Kidd didn't quite catch.

he did see Keillan’s jaw trembling a few times, heard his unsteady harsh breathing as he sat and just stared at his empty workspace. "dude" Kidd whispered to him at the halfway point of class, "are you gonna even attempt to work on anything today?"

the table behind him laughed rudely, muffling it when Kidd turned to glare at him. Keillan didn't move. didn't even pretend to hear his question. Kidd got to work on his one piece.

he turned back one last time as the class was cleaning up.

Keillan was crying.

he never made a sound, tears dripping silently down his face, dripping off his nose and he sat ramrod still.

Kidd pretended to leave with the rest, Keillan left behind. He only finally got up and moved to get his project when he thought the room was empty. He looked under the drop cloth for a moment, before taking the whole thing and dumping it in the trash.

Kidd watched from the hall, ducking away only when Keillan turned and left. He reentered the room, unable to look away from the bin. if it was that bad, why the trash and not the scrap pile?

Kidd pulled the drop cloth away. Keillan’s project had been defaced, all the awful slurs thrown at him all term having been carved and engraved into the once smooth surface of his final.

---

Keillan did the same the next class, the days left for him to turn in anything slowly trickling down, him with nothing to show for it.

the ugly words continued, seeming louder now that Kidd had seem them written out

"you..." Kidd hesitated, the tables next to him seeming to fall quiet, and he could feel them looking at him, "should still try and make something to turn in. anything, just to show you know the basics."

There was laughter behind them, Kidd trying hard not to look.

"worry about your own project." was all Keillan said

---

Kidd passed with the highest marks in the class, having more than proven his skill once given tools that were small enough for him to work with.

Keillan didn't even show up for the last class before mid year break. Kidd snooped. He'd passed - barely. lowest possible score and still able to advance to term two.

Kidd wanted to talk to someone.. anyone really, about what he'd seen in the trash, but surely, it was already known. the teacher had clearly seen it.

but something still felt... off.

and it followed him though the whole day, as hour by hour ticked down until mid break. three weeks of no classes.

His mom picked him up that day - a rare treat - with the intention to take him out for ice cream.

A drive that would take them passed the highschool.

With about two blocks to go Kidd noticed a crowd of kids milling around on one of the grassy embankments, a few familour from shop class.

actually. a bunch from shop class. "mom... mom pull over a sec."

She stopped, following his gaze, where it was clear something was up. The kids were closing ranks, and Kidd was out of the car before he knew his feet were moving.

/fight fight fight/ started to echo as he got closer. fight turnign to /hit him/. to /kick him/. to /jsut punch the fag aleady./

Kidd was fighting his way into the group, his mom not far behind. the outer circle scrambled at the sight of an adult.

Keillan was fighting against a choke hold from one of Kidd's classmates, kicking at another boy with a bloodied nose. his own face was a smear of blood, but despite being outnumbered, he was holding his own quite well.