Author's note: All characters are 18+ years old.
***
The circle of kids around us were chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!", enjoying the spectacle of a new arrival on base establishing where he fit in the pecking order. Fresh meat for the Coliseum.
I dropped an arm to block the huge bully's right hand punch to my gut, but that left my face partially uncovered by my remaining forearm. His left fist jabbed at the opening, punching me in the eye. Hard.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That was a bad one, I thought.
I raised both arms up and hid behind them, waiting for the adults to show up. They were taking their fucking time, as usual. A school on a military base in a godforsaken swath of Southern Californian desert usually has a laissez-faire attitude toward interpersonal conflicts. The ethos? Learning to brawl is good training for future soldiers.
First day at yet another new high school. Good times.
Gonna be a long senior year. Assuming I was at this particular base for the remaining eight months of the school year. A shaky assumption, considering this was my sixth high school. Military brats move a lot.
I saw my next door neighbor watching me from the circle of jeering kids, a bemused expression on her face, like she was silently pondering my complete inability to mount an offensive in the fight. Like, was I just bad at fighting, or a coward, or that rarity on a military base, a philosophical pacifist?
My momentary lack of attention to the matter at hand earned me another punch, this time slipping past my guard with a roundhouse to the side of my head.
Fuuuuuck. I felt dizzy and dazed, but fought to stay upright. Nothing good came from falling down and losing both mobility and the high ground. One time literally getting my ass kicked, plus various other important parts of my body, had taught me to avoid that at all costs.
A whistle blew. Finally. A teacher was coming. The circle of kids scattered, and the bully took a step back and dropped his hands. Being observed by an adult landing a punch undercut one's future protestations of innocence, or at least of mitigating circumstances.
To my surprise, my neighbor hadn't fled. She coolly waited until the oncoming teacher had seen that she was nowhere near the fray, at best a witness, then she stepped forward toward me. She was fucking gorgeous. I'd say she was out of my league, but when you're as aspie and socially awkward as I was, pretty much no girl wants that kind of hot mess for a boyfriend.
"You look dizzy," she said. "Put your hand on my shoulder so you don't fall down."
I gratefully accepted.
She grimaced, like it physically hurt to be touched.
"You OK?" I asked.
"I... don't like being touched."
I took my hand off her like I'd burnt myself on a hot stove. "Then... why..."
She grabbed my hand and put it back on her shoulder. "Don't fucking fall. Failure is not an option."
I backed off, barely touching her shoulder, just enough to steady myself. "Uh... wow. I really appreciate this, considering..."
She looked at me with her beautiful green eyes, in vivid contrast to her dark chocolate skin. "Get a move on, soldier. Let's get this over with."
"Where we going?"
"Principal's office."
"Why?"
"Pre-emptive strike. Go there before they send for you, Throws those bastards off their game."
I nodded appreciatively at this innovative new tactic.
***
There were six white plastic chairs outside the principal's office. Apparently they had a large number of miscreants likely to be involved in any given incident disturbing the peace. I glanced at her, then took the chair closest to the door, giving her the opportunity to decide how much personal space she needed. She eyed the chair next to me, like she really wished she could manage to sit there, but reluctantly sat in the third chair from the door, leaving a space between us.
"Thanks, uh..."
"Kneely."
I raised my eyebrows. "Did your parents WANT you to be sexually harassed constantly?"
"N-E-A-L-E-Y. Nealey. My dad wanted a boy, apparently thought he could cause that through sheer force of will. Even though military kids are statistically much more likely to be girls compared to civilians. So he picked the name Neal. No plan B. Surprise!"
A long pause. She crinkled her forehead. "You're not very socially adept, are you?"
"Hunh?"
"What's. Your. Name." She said it in a slow, patient voice, like she was explaining entropy and the heat death of the universe to a Corgi. Or social niceties to an idiot savant.
"Joe."
Right about then someone with the brisk demeanor of an assistant principal showed up, the bully in tow. "There you are. Been looking all over for you two. Do this much?"
"Get an unprovoked beating first day at a new school? Unfortunately, yes."
"I see you've got your story all lined up." He narrowed his eyes at the bully. "Sit. Don't even think of running. Again. DON'T make me call the MPs." He left.
The bully examined the six chairs, then grinned and made as if to sit between us, claiming the hot chick as his prize while cutting out the loser.
Nealey gave him a Death Stare.
He froze.
Reevaluating. Slooowly. Not the sharpest sword in the armory.
Sat at the chair farthest from us, sprawling out, arm resting on the chair next to him. Claiming massive amounts of personal space, like this had been his first choice all along.
The office door opened. A woman, with the weary, Thousand Yard Stare of a principal perpetually bombarded with the transgressions of hyperaggressive military brats, looked us over. Nodded at the guy strategically placed to get their story in first. Aka me.
First rule of getting your ass kicked: Get your verbal retaliation in first. Drive the narrative.
I followed her inside.
"Close the door. Take a seat."
I sat.
"New here?"
"First day."
"I see the usual welcoming committee was on hand to greet you."
It wasn't a question, so I just nodded, a tiny dip of the head. Don't volunteer. First rule of soldiering.
"So. Who threw the first punch?"
"I didn't throw any punches. I'm a pacifist."
She gave me a hard stare, sizing me up. "Really."
Still not a question, so I just stared back. Waiting.
"Got any corroborating witnesses? You know, someone --"
