Page 1 of Pride High

CHAPTER 1

September 7th, 1992

A new start. That was how the beginning of the school year always felt. Anthony had been certain, when arriving at Pride High as a freshman, that he would be a changed person, deeper in thought and emotion as he partook of experiences forbidden to the young; love, sex, and drugs. Instead he had mostly stayed close to his best friend as they tried to survive being the lowest on the totem pole, and honestly, that had been pretty great too. Now he had a second chance, with the added benefit of experience. From the passenger side of his brother’s truck, Anthony considered the school and wondered if being a sophomore would really make a difference.

“Same deal as last year,” Mike grumbled as he put the truck in park. “If anyone messes with you, I’ll kill them. Otherwise you’re dead to me.”

Anthony fought down a grin and nodded. “Cool.” He hopped out and slung a strap over one shoulder, letting the backpack hang loose on the other side. Mike slammed the truck door and glanced around the parking lot. He saw someone he recognized, raising one of his big paws in greeting. Then he shot a disdainful glare in Anthony’s direction before strutting away.

None of this was taken personally. His older brother was a good guy. Only rarely did he make Anthony’s life a living hell. They simply inhabited two very different worlds, despite their shared parentage and upbringing. None of that mattered here. High school was its own microcosm. The rules inside its walls were different from those of the real world. And that’s exactly how Anthony thought of it; a weird alternate reality, a dream existence that he inhabited five days a week, nine months a year. Maybe other people saw it differently. This might be where they felt the most alive. But for people like him, it was all an act. A farce that he willingly took part in, because the alternative—telling everyone the big ugly truth—was unthinkable.

He eyed the school while standing next to Mike’s truck, giving his older brother the distance he demanded. The brick building was sprawled out at the edge of a middle-class neighborhood,a church and public pool across the street from the campus. Anthony took the opportunity to unzip the front pocket of his backpack where he kept his Walkman and a selection of cassettes. He’d brought six options with him today, an unusual amount, but he wasn’t sure which fix he would need. Something ethereal to enhance the feeling of detachment? No, that would allow the outside world to break through too easily. He fingered a bootleg copy of Nine Inch Nails’ debut album before deciding it was the perfect choice. He hit the eject button, popped the tape inside, and uncoiled the earbuds—one ringed with blue, the other red—that were the only surviving component of his old Gameboy. The rest was at the bottom of a pond. Not that he cared. He was more into music than gaming, and the earbuds were better than the cheap foam headphones the Walkman had originally come with. He thought of how distraught he had been after the Gameboy had slipped from his best friend’s hands and sunk into the dark murky water of a pond. The memory made him laugh. Good ol’ Omar.

Anthony took a step forward, filling with excitement at the thought of reuniting with him. Which was dumb, because they’d just hung out the night before. And for the entire summer. But somehow it still wasn’t enough. They had too much fun together, which almost made the prospect of another school year appealing. Anthony only needed to go and find him.

After making sure Mike was no longer around, he grabbed the passenger-side mirror and pushed against it so he could see himself better. Black was the theme, starting with the short tousled hair that he ran a hand through, just to mess it up even more. Everyone was under pressure from their parents to don their Sunday best. Anthony wore a black dress shirt that he’d unbuttoned on the drive over, revealing a plain white T-shirt which contrasted with the black jeans and shoes. He loved dressing in monochrome, especially since he could already see tons of garish shirt patterns and stonewashed jeans. Those weren’t an option for him. As much as Anthony tried to blend in, he still had to live with himself.

Pushing the play button on his Walkman, he listened to the hiss of static, relieved when a clicking sound and drums built into a heavy industrial groove that made him feel powerful and otherworldly. He mouthed along to the nasal vocals, bobbinghis head along with the beat until he reached the doors. The grin remained on his face in a way that he hoped appeared cool and confident. He didn’t want to be mistaken for a freshman. He could already see a few of them sprawled out on the hard floor beyond the entrance doors. They must not have older siblings to warn them of the tradition. Freshmen were always tripped on their way in during the first day of school. A handful of exasperated teachers were running around, helping the fallen and scolding anyone behaving suspiciously, but they were outnumbered. Anthony had nothing to worry about. He was much taller this year. Just under six feet. His brothers still towered over him, but Anthony was relieved to have finally hit any sort of growth spurt. Now if only their beefy muscles would make an appearance. So far he had struggled to put on much weight.

A foot jutted out just as Anthony crossed over the threshold. He not only saw it in time but made a point of stepping directly on the shoe while glaring at the owner, who grimaced in pain. That made him feel good. Especially since Omar hadn’t been as lucky during his first year and had not only fallen, but landed on his chin, an awkward bruise marring his first week of school. Anthony still remembered wanting to find who had done it. That someone had messed with Omar had somehow been worse than if it had happened to himself.

He was brought back to the present as a teacher with gray hair blocked his path. The man gestured at Anthony’s earbuds while mouthing words, Trent Reznor’s voice seeming to come out of him instead. The gist was clear: No listening to music in school. Anthony played dumb. He nodded, grinned, and said in an extra loud voice, “It’s good to be back, yeah. I better get to class!”

The teacher scowled, but before he could try again, a small Asian kid barreled into the man from the side, having just suffered the first-day tradition. The kid looked back and forth between them before rushing away. While the teacher was searching for the culprit, Anthony slipped past him and continued down the hall. Music was the ultimate shield. The scornful words of teachers couldn’t touch him. Insults went unheard. Best of all, it turned the world around him into a music video. The swarms of students rushing to find their class almost felt like a mosh pit, or some sort of bizarre brightly-lit nightclub. Not that Anthony had ever experienced such things in person,but it wasn’t hard to imagine somewhere cooler than school, and his own personal soundtrack certainly helped.

After turning down another hall, his heart skipped a… No, no, no. He simply felt happy to see his best friend waiting for him outside the classroom door. Omar hadn’t escaped the obligation to dress up today. Tomorrow he would be back to wearing a heavy metal T-shirt. Today he wore a short-sleeved polo that stretched across his chest in a way that Anthony found distracting. He didn’t have much in the way of chest muscles himself, so he admired… no, heenviedthe way that Omar had filled out over the summer. The jeans and skate shoes were predictably black, but he wore the color well. It paired naturally with his dark sparkling eyes and waves of silky panther hair that draped over his ears and stopped just a few inches shy of his shoulders. The natural olive hue of Omar’s skin kept him from appearing pale against so much contrast. The easy grin and strong nose conspired to make him handsome. If you could call another guy that. Anthony knew that he could, but he sure as hell didn’t like to dwell on it.

He watched Omar smile, give an upward nod, and raise his faithful camcorder to point it at Anthony. He fished out his earbuds just in time to hear Omar say, “There he is, ladies and gentlemen. A prince among men, destined this year to become the king. But not the lame kind at prom that nobody cares about. No, this absolute badass is going to rule these shitty halls with his sharp mind and good looks. And maybe some of those killer dance moves. C’mon now. Let’s see them!”

No problem. While approaching him, Anthony began bobbing his head from left to right, letting the motion move down to his shoulders and through the rest of his body without attempting to appear cool. He only had one goal in mind while wiggling like an idiot, the dance becoming more exaggerated with each step. He was about to bump into the lens before Omar finally lowered the camcorder and started laughing. Mission accomplished.

“Fuckin’ A, dude!” Omar said while wiping at his eyes. “Can you believe it? We’re sophomores!”

“You make it sound like there’s some kind of benefit,” Anthony replied. “Do you think prisoners celebrate their second year behind bars?”

“Good point, but they don’t—”

A shrill bell rang in the hall, cutting off whatever his friend was going to say. They rolled eyes at each other before walking into the classroom. Instead of individual desks, there were tables big enough to seat two. They found one that was unoccupied at the back of the room and claimed it, bumping elbows with each other in celebration.

“This is already cooler than last year!” Omar enthused. “Instead of starting each day in separate math classes, we get to hang together injournalism.” The way he stressed the course name made it sound like they’d won the lottery. “This is going to be so easy, dude. Do you know what a newspaper is?”

“Yup,” Anthony confirmed.

“Boom! You get an A. Oh wait, do you know what a yearbook is?”

“Sure do.”

“Nice! You’ve aced this class. Feel free to take a nap during the rest of the semester.”

Anthony laughed. He didn’t think it would be as easy as that, but when debating which electives to choose, it hadn’t taken long to convince Omar that this would be their best chance to hang out and have fun while in school. And because there was only one such class per day, they were guaranteed to end up in the same room during the same period. And they had! They both seemed to recognize this fact at the same time and bumped elbows again.

“Hello, everyone!”

They turned their attention to the front where a teacher leaned against his desk. He wore a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of classic blue jeans. His silver hair was parted on one side and slicked back with styling product. All of this, combined with smiling gray eyes, gave him an approachable demeanor. Anthony hoped to hell he wasn’t going to be one of those annoyingly inspirational teachers who told them to seize the day or whatever.

“My name is Mr. Finnegan,” the man continued. “I’m happy that you’ve chosen journalism as an elective. For the first semester, we’ll be focusing on the school newspaper, but in the future you’ll also have the opportunity to contribute to the yearbook. And for the first time ever, we’ll be using computers to lay out—"

A chiming noise from the PA system interrupted Mr.Finnegan, who sighed and turned his attention to the speaker in the ceiling.

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