Chapter 17

"Crap, it's the Queen Bee," Sheynan muttered under his breath. I turned around, hearing the click-clack of heels crossing the basketball court, and paled when I saw Mrs. McDowell charging toward us. She was a beautiful middle-aged woman, which is how she got the nickname Queen Bee, but to introverted types like me, she was known as the Anti-Bullying Bully. I knew of at least five students who switched to Net schooling to avoid her overbearing protective nature.

Personally, I would rather have the snot beaten out of me than have Mrs. McDowell stalking me.

"What are you boys up to?" she asked in a misleading, honeyed tone. I could see from the way her eyes darted around, she was memorizing the faces of the people she assumed were bullying me.

"I'm not being bullied," I stated bluntly, making Sheynan suck in a sharp breath next to me.

My words startled Mrs. McDowell, focusing her attention on me. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not being bullied," I repeated coldly. "Wasn't that your assumption when you saw me surrounded by basketball players?"

"I admit I was concerned—"

"Why?" I demanded. "I hope you aren't basing your concern on outdated stereotypes. Just because someone is an athlete doesn't make them a bully. And just because a person avoids socializing, it doesn't mean they're the type to be bullied."

"O-Of course not," she replied, taking a step back at my aggressive attitude. "Who said anything about bullies? I was just curious because I've never seen you in the gym before."

"In that case, I should apologize. I didn't realize students were restricted in where they could go during the free lunch period."

"Students aren't restricted as long as they remain on campus," she said in confusion.

I cocked my head like I was confused in return. "Then why does it matter why I'm in the gym?"

Mrs. McDowell grew flustered. "Don't take that tone with me, young man."

I bit back another pointed question and reminded myself she possessed authority I didn't. Unless I wanted to take a trip to the Principal's office, I had to deescalate the situation.

"Sorry," I muttered with a stiff smile. "My social skills are lacking. To answer your original question, my friends are teaching me how to play basketball. May we continue?"

She gave us a tight smile and a short nod, her avenues of questioning closed. She took her time leaving as if she was waiting for me to make up some excuse to follow her, but I didn't. Instead, I turned around and shot the ball again. It wasn't as clean as my initial shot, yet I still scored after a single bounce on the rim.

"Holy shit, did that just happen?" one of the players whispered as the rest burst out in nervous laughter. Even Sheynan was at a loss for words.

I rolled my eyes as I went to fetch the ball. "Just because I'm an introvert doesn't mean I'm the type to let myself be bullied in silence," I said after checking to make sure Mrs. McDowell was gone. "That includes bullying by teachers."

"Don't try to downplay it," Trace admonished. "That woman is terrifying. None of us could say a word, but you backed her into a corner with just words."

"How'd you do it?" Sheynan asked curiously.

I shrugged. "There's no secret. I just didn't see any reason to be scared of her." Seeing everyone was still confused, I continued, "It's obvious why she interrupted. Right?"

Sheynan and the others hesitantly nodded as I took another free-throw shot. This time, Sheynan ran to get it for me. "If I really was being bullied, she would have been within her rights to question us. Since I wasn't being bullied, she was out of line. Imagine how the situation would have looked according to the cameras."

I gestured toward the camera positioned in a corner of the gym and, slowly, the players grew enlightened. None of them were stupid. According to the cameras, I talked with the guys, shot a free-throw, then Mrs. McDowell came charging in to question us without justifiable cause. Even if she had sent us to the office, she would have been burying herself instead of us.

"She might be a teacher, but she's not a god. The only difference between her and us is a few years and a teaching degree. You still have it in your heads that she's an adult and you're still kids. That's not really the case. In less than a year, all of us will be adults, assuming some of you haven't already turned eighteen. In a few years, any of us could get a degree and be a teacher just like her."

One of the more muscular players who hadn't spoken yet shook his head and laughed. "You can explain it however you want, but you're still my new hero. I'm Marshall, by the way. Shey forgot to introduce us."

The rest of the players took turns introducing themselves, allowing me to match names to faces.

Sheynan, who I already knew, was the one who looked like a playboy. Trace was the dark and reserved one. Red was the redhead with freckles, whereas Harris had dyed his hair green. Takumi seemed to be the happy-go-lucky member. Jackson was the shortest member of the group and seemed to fade into the background. Marshall was the giant who'd already introduced himself. The last one, Reese, wasn't present, but they claimed I'd be able to identify him by his poor taste in clothes and the removable cast on his leg.

All eight of them played Aetherscape just like me.

After introductions were over, Sheynan took over again by giving me a quick tutorial on how to play basketball.

I sucked.

Although I could shoot free-throws like a machine now, I kept forgetting who was on my team and I had no skill at dribbling while running. The guys teased me over my fumbling, but they weren't mean about it. They took turns giving me tips and I even managed to improve a mediocre amount by the end of the free lunch period.

The ring of the warning bell startled me.

"Meet you at Bryant's Burgers and Brats after school?" Sheynan asked to confirm as he grabbed his bag and offered me a towel. I nodded as I took off my glasses and wiped my face.

"Sure."

"What the hell," Shey blurted, catching everyone's attention again. I started to put my glasses back on to see what he was yelling about, only to have my hand knocked away. A second later, Shey's hand shoved my hair back, and his blurry face came closer to mine.

"What?" I asked as I tried to pull away. "Let me put my glasses back on."

Shey didn't let me go, holding my hair back as the other guys gathered around.

"Crap," Trace muttered from the sidelines. "He's like that movie about the nerdy girl who got a makeover, only in reverse because he's a guy."

I blushed, finally understanding what Shey was freaking out about. It was the same thing I'd already noticed in-game. I really did have the potential to be attractive. All I was lacking was the desire to put in the effort.

"Fuck off," I grumbled as I knocked Shey's hand away and firmly set my glasses on my face. I quickly raked my hair forward, making sure the damp locks were scattered.

"What's up with your mop on your head?" Harris asked with a laugh. "Is it some kind of disguise?"

"Oh my god," Shey spluttered, quickly following me as I headed for my next class. "Are you some kind of superstar and no one is supposed to know your real identity because you want to experience a normal school life? Did I just blow your cover?"

"Sure," I said with a humorless laugh. "Let's go with that."

One of the players, Takumi, flicked the side of my head. "Don't tell him that. He'll actually believe you."

I rolled my eyes. "Fine. The truth is nothing like that. I just got called cute a few too many times as a kid and I grew self-conscious about my face, so I let my hair grow out to make it less noticeable."

"That's it?" Shey asked, sagging in disappointment.

"That's it. I'm an introvert, Shey. It might not seem so bad to you, but I find it horrific to have people flocking toward me just because they think I look cute. I really don't understand that kind of thing at all. What is it about a person's face that can make a person convinced they're in love?"

"You've never been in love?" Trace asked curiously as several of the guys peeled off of our group to head for their classes.

"Nope," I said, unashamed of the fact. "I've never had butterflies in my stomach, a skipped heartbeat, or felt riled up in jealousy."

"Does that mean you're ace? Or demi?" Harris asked.

"I don't like labels," I replied. "I feel like the moment I give myself one, something will come along to prove it wrong. Even the introvert label annoys me, but it was either that or have people call me a sociopath."

Only a few of the guys chuckled at my poor attempt at a joke. Thankfully, our time was almost out and I was able to take sanctuary in my English class. This particular class was one of the few where the rear corner seats and window seats were claimed by football players, so I made do with claiming a desk halfway back and off-center where the teacher wouldn't notice me.

Behind me, a voice quietly said, "Most people believe Sherlock Holmes was a sociopath, but I think he just didn't know what to do with the emotions he had. It made him easily misunderstood. I believe he would have felt the need to categorize himself so he could find a way to fit into society. So, um, I understand how you'd accept the introvert label, even if it doesn't totally fit. I don't think an introvert could have talked back to the Queen Bee like that."

Surprised, I glanced over my shoulder to find Marshall had taken a seat at the desk behind me. I had to search my memory to recall he'd always been in my class. I just never paid much attention to the giant before now.

I turned fully in my seat, intrigued by his comment. We talked until the teacher came in, giving me a chance to learn Marshall also enjoyed reading in his free time, except his chosen genre was murder mysteries instead of fantasy. I wasn't well-versed on the subject, but Marshall was very happy to offer a few recommendations.

On our way to our lockers after class, Marshall let me know it was possible to do homework in-game as long as I linked my game account to the school's digital app via the game's website.

It boggled my mind. "Why isn't everyone playing? If I'd known I could read and do homework in my sleep, I would have bought a headset a long time ago."

Marshall shrugged. "People still just see it as a game. Headsets aren't cheap, so no one wants to invest when the game company might go under at any minute. Trace thinks it's only a matter of time before that changes, which is why he's having us hoard gold."

I didn't understand that comment.

"Ask Trace about it later," Marshall advised. "He handles all the financial stuff."