A humiliated expression appeared on Walt’s face as he looked down at the table and muttered “Well, that was unnecessary.”
“Wanna say that shit to my face, bitch?” This was Mr. Marshal himself speaking; a guy who was at least six inches taller than me and, as previously mentioned, a total douche. I turned to see him sitting a mere two tables over and, caught off guard by the sight of him, my tired mind could think of no other way to respond.
“You’re a douche?”
For some reason this made everyone laugh, which was almost as shocking as the look Brett was giving me. I turned back to find Walter still looking down and half-smirking as he shook his head. “You’re a dead man.”
The day was a bit of a blur after that, everything around me seemingly set to half-volume as I did my best to go through the motions. I went to the rest of my classes and filed away my syllabi in their respective folders and nodded when it seemed appropriate. The bus-ride home was spent listening to music on my phone and avoiding all the awkward stares. Once I was back at my house, I went straight to my room and promptly passed out…
