4. Not so good first impression

Malcolm 

The impact sent a burn through my fist after every punch. I watched the heavy bag swing back and forth from the suspended chain, the metal links rattling with every hit.

I'm not going to lie, joining the boxing team was the best thing I'd done since I came to this school two weeks ago.

At least the punching bag didn't ask me where I was from.

“Calm down, Calloway.” Coach called as he approached where I was throwing punches. “I think that's enough punishment for today.”

“It's Forrest, sir.” I corrected him without stopping.

I still hadn't figured out how hard it was going to be to convince people not to call me Calloway.

Gideon had registered me under his surname, which meant every teacher, coach and administrator saw Calloway whenever they looked me up.

At least the students were easier. If they'd ask I'll tell them Forrest. Problem solved.

“I'm seeing Calloway in my system.”

“Your system is wrong.” He stared at me.

“I’m sorry sir.” I apologized. “Just one more.”

“I said it's enough.” I sighed and landed one last punch.

The bag swung hard making the chain above it creak. Coach reached out and caught it, stopping it in place.

“Get to class.”

“Yes, Coach.” I pulled off my boxing gloves and dropped them beside the bench before heading toward the locker room.

After changing out of my training clothes, I grabbed my phone and backpack from the locker and headed back into the hallway.

I had to admit, my first two weeks at this school hadn't been terrible. They hadn't exactly been great either, just… normal.

And after the last few weeks, normal was probably the closest thing to peace I was going to get.

I hadn't even wanted to come to school. I had only a few months left before graduation. There was no point starting over somewhere new when I could have gotten a job and figured things out myself.

But Gideon disagreed. “You're finishing school before you do anything else.” That was basically the entire conversation. I didn't have the strength to argue with him, because it was pointless anyway. 

My only friend so far was Caleb–whom I didn't choose. He'd just decided we were friends.

The first day he'd sat beside me, introduced himself, stolen one of my fries and spent the next twenty minutes talking like we'd known each other for years.

By the end of lunch, he'd apparently decided I was his new friend. I shot him a text as I headed toward the cafeteria.

Malcolm: Where are you?

His reply came after I'd made it halfway towards the cafeteria. 

Caleb: Lunch is almost over. Where do you think?

I stared at the message before I replied.

Malcolm: You could've said the cafeteria.

Then three dots appeared.

Caleb: You could've used your brain.

I locked my phone before I could respond. I was beginning to understand why he didn't have many friends.

I stepped into the cafeteria and immediately felt like I'd walked into another universe. Even though it wasn't completely packed, the room was loud enough to make conversation feel like a competitive sport. 

Chairs scraped against the floor, trays clattered against tables and someone at the other end of the room was laughing like they'd just been told the funniest joke of the century.

I loosened the collar of my shirt as I navigated through the tables, scanning the room until I spotted Caleb.

He was sitting alone, halfway through a plate of food.

“I bet a hundred dollars you were punching that bag.” Caleb spoke the moment I dropped into the seat across from him.

I didn't respond because I knew he was right. I just reached across the table and stole a chicken strip from his plate.

He immediately pulled the tray closer. “Get your own food.”

“That's exactly what I'm doing.” He eyed me before he spoke again.

“So,” he said after a moment, “there's this party next weekend.”

“Dude, I just got here.”

“Exactly what I'm saying. You need to get yourself out there.” He leaned forward. “There will be girls.”

“You don't have a girl either.”

“I've had my share of relationships.”

“Your share?”

“Yes.” He replied proudly.

“How many?”

“That's private.”

“So, none.” He slapped my hand away when I reached for another piece. 

“So,” he continued, “I'm coming next week. Then both of us can go.”

“Are you listening to what I'm…” Before I could finish my sentence, the bells echoed across the hallways as students began filing out of the cafeteria.

We stayed seated for a few more minutes, arguing back and forth while the noise around us slowly died down.

“You know what? I'm coming. I don't care what you think. Send me your address.”

I looked at him. “Why are you so eager to come over?”

“You mentioned a pool and…”

“There is no pool.” I cut him off with a lie.

Caleb narrowed his eyes on me. “You're lying.”

I didn't respond to him, as I grabbed my bag and joined the stream of students heading toward their classrooms. Caleb grabbed his backpack and followed me. 

“So you're coming?” He pestered.

“I said I'll think about it.”

“That means you're coming.”

I barely had time to turn the corner before someone collided with me. The small box in her hands slipped and several little candle jars rolled across the floor, their lids popping loose as they scattered.

The hallway immediately filled with a strange mixture of different scents, then her coffee spilled all over the front of her clothes.

“Oh no!” She gasped as a few students nearby went quiet.

“Oh shit.” I immediately crouched down. “I'm sorry. Let me help you.” I picked up one of the candles, only to notice the glass had cracked.

“Is it so hard to watch where you're going?” she snapped, crouching down to gather the others.

I looked up at her. “You also bumped into me.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “But I'm sorry for spilling your coffee.”

Caleb appeared beside me and picked up another candle. “He'll pay for the broken candles.”

I shot him a look and almost punched him right there.

“Yes, I'll pay for them.” I reached for my wallet.

The girl shook her head as she tried wiping the coffee from her clothes with a tissue. “It's fine.”

She shoved the cracked candles back into the box, clearly annoyed. “I said I'm sorry.”

“And I heard you.” She stood, balancing the box against her hip. I got to my feet as well and took a proper look at her. 

She had a tote bag hanging from one shoulder, a few strands of hair stuck near her cheek from where the coffee had splashed her, and an expression that made it very clear she wasn't interested in hearing another apology.

A voice suddenly called from farther down the hallway. “I got the…” and a girl with dark auburn hair hurried toward us before stopping abruptly. “Oh shit.”

Her eyes moved from her friend's coffee-stained clothes to the scattered candles, then to me. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” Her friend huffed as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just need to clean myself up.”

She adjusted the box in her arms. “Come on, Ellie.”

‘Ellie’ gave me one last suspicious look before following her and I watched them disappear around the corner.

Then I looked down and saw something small lying near my shoe. I bent down and picked it up.

It was a tiny metal wick trimmer.

I turned it over in my hand and inspected it. Probably belonged to her.

“Hey!” Caleb called as he’d walked several feet in front of me. “You coming?”

I slipped the little tool into my pocket. “Yeah.”

I took one last look toward the hallway where she had disappeared before following him to class.