Page 19 of Pride High 2: Orange
“Red alert!” Ricky said. “Arm the photon torpedoes! Full power to shields!”
“Basically that, yes,” Mr. Finnegan said, seeming amused. “Although please leave the explosives at home.”
“I will,” he promised.
“The December issue ofThe Lion’s Pride Postgets released earlier than normal due to the holidays, but you still have a few days to decide.”
“On what?” Ricky asked. “I wanna be on the front page! I’m really excited. Are you going to include a photo of me?” He lowered his glasses to peer over them and put on a thoughtful expression.
Mr. Finnegan chuckled. “No, I’m afraid that honor goes to the hens the FFA students raised. But at least now the top headline won’t be ‘A Clucking Good Time at School.’ The editors outvoted me on that one.”
Ricky grimaced in sympathy. “What will the headline be?”
“You tell me,” Mr. Finnegan said. “Think it over and let me know tomorrow. For the moment, you had better get to your next class.”
Ricky thanked him and practically danced down the hall. The article he wrote! On the front page! Along with some chickens. But hey, it was still quite the achievement.
Ricky was almost to his gym class when he felt a jolt of fear. Mostly out of habit. Diego Gomez had made the first few months of school extremely unpleasant for him, but even that had changed. In a weird way that he still didn’t fully understand.
I’m really fuckin’ horny. Go ahead. I won’t hurt you.
Ricky remembered reaching for a belt buckle. Then he forced himself back to the present, because he was about to get changed in front of a bunch of other guys. Nothing had happened anyway. But only because they’d been interrupted.
As he entered the locker room, it didn’t take long to locate Diego. He was bigger in bulk and height than everyone there. He was already wearing the school-issued yellow shirt and brown shorts that were skin tight. On him, at least. Diego’s muscles strained against the thin cloth. Ricky stared at a powerful chest before his attention darted up to cinnamon-colored eyes. Diego caught him looking, and not for the first time, but it didn’t seem to matter. All he did was grin and give an upward nod.
“Sup?” Diego said.
“Hey,” Ricky replied. He went to his locker and opened it.
Most of the other guys were leaving since class was about to begin. Diego just stood there and stared as Ricky stripped off his shirt, which made him self-conscious. Especially when his jeans hit the floor. “Did you umm… Did you have a good Thanksgiving?” Ricky asked, unable take the awkward silence any longer.
“Nah,” Diego replied. His dark hair wasn’t slicked back like it usually was, sticking up in various directions like he’d just rolled out of bed. “I mostly worked.”
“You have a job?” Ricky asked while pulling up his shorts.
“Yeah.” Diego never said much unless prompted.
“Doing what?”
“Fixing cars.”
“Oh. That’s cool!”
Diego shrugged. “I’d rather work onmycar.” He looked Ricky over again, and after another upward nod, said, “Wanna go for a ride after school?”
“I wish.” Ricky sat on the bench to put on his shoes again. “My parents are making me see a therapist.”
“Don’t go,” Diego said instantly.
“I don’t want to,” Ricky assured him. Then he looked up and saw his scowl. “How come?”
“Therapists are like dentists. They want you to open up, and once you do, they make sure it hurts.” Diego crossed his beefy arms over his chest. “Don’t let them get into your head. You’ll regret it. They’ll say it’s for your own good but… Do I seem like a well-adjusted person to you?”
Before he could answer, they heard Coach Henshaw blow his whistle, signaling the start of class. Ricky rolled his eyes and sighed as he stood. They walked through the locker room together.
“I hate PE,” Diego grumbled.
“You used to be in football, right?” Ricky asked.
