“Hello! Earth to Maggie!” Rachel wiggled her fingers in my face, breaking my single minded focus on Mr. Cute and Gloomy. Rachel followed my line of vision and smirked. “Ah, checking out the new kid, huh?” I grunted noncommittally and turned my back on the lonely boy at the back of the cafeteria. I looked at Rachel and Daniel who wore identical grins. “What?” I asked defensively.

“Aww. Mags has a whittle ol' cwrush.” Daniel obnoxiously rustled my hair. I swatted his hand away and smoothed the fly away strands. “You're as crazy as your Glenn Close psycho girlfriend. I met him this morning and he's a total ass. Not remotely crush worthy.” I lied, stuffing my mouth with a Snickers bar in an attempt to limit conversation.

Rachel laughed. “Well, whatever he is, he is smokin' hot with a capital H. Though he's kind of an odd ball. He was in my Creative Writing class this morning. His name is Clayton Reed and he just moved here last week from Florida. But he's some kind of social phobe or something. He wouldn't talk to anyone and pretty much ignored everyone who tried to talk to him. And lord knows the girls were trying.”

“Well, he certainly didn't have any trouble talking when he was chewing me a new one this morning.” I said, glancing over my shoulder at Clayton again. “What is this? Was he mean to you? Do I need to have a talk with this guy?” Daniel asked, jumping into protective brother mode. Daniel took his role as pseudo- sibling very seriously. No one messed with Rachel or me without making a very serious enemy. It was nice to know someone like Daniel had your back. The boy had clout in our little ecosystem and I felt pleasantly protected by Daniel's friendship. But I recognized the mama bear glint in his eyes and I had to neutralize it before it led to a confrontation and further humiliation and embarrassment.

“Heel, Danny. I'm a big girl and can fight my own battles. I wasn't Miss Suzy Sunshine either.” I conceded. Rachel chuckled. “Now, that sounds more like it. Our Maggie doesn't take being verbally berated without giving as good as she gets.” I tossed my straw paper at my best friend. “Shut up, Rachel. I'm the nicest person you know.” I told her with mock indignation. Rachel balled up the paper and flicked it back in my direction.

“Yeah right, Mags. It's not like you don't have a reputation for taking people out at the knees or anything.” Daniel joked, jabbing his fork into his fruit cup. Okay. I admit it, I'm not the easiest person to be around sometimes- or maybe even most of the time. I had a habit of speaking my mind without thinking, of telling the absolute truth without any thought of possible consequences. I had no time for fluff, so I simply didn't bother.

“I just have a low bullshit tolerance and I for one think that is an admirable trait.” I bit out, a little annoyed with my friends for painting me in such a negative way. Daniel patted my arm, noticing my dark look. “You're right. I'd rather be around someone who tells me like it is than having to second guess everything coming out of their mouth. I think you are a refreshing change from the rest of the sheep at this school.” Rachel smiled at me. “Ditto.” She said, reaching over and giving me a one armed hug.

My friends were so cool and great for that needed self esteem boost. There was a reason I kept them around.

My attention was suddenly pulled back to the table being occupied by Clayton Reed. I heard a raised voice and groaned at seeing meat- head Paul Delawder holding Clayton's MP3 player. Paul was a raging douche bag. He made it his mission in life to taunt, terrorize and humiliate most of the student body. He skipped school at least three days a week and failed most of his classes. He had already been kept back twice and he was the oldest senior in our class, being nineteen and all. He had a designated desk in the detention room and bragged about getting a plaque for it. A nasty moron with a taste for abuse and definitely not my favorite person. He and I had had multiple run ins over the years and I had been on the receiving end of his harassment more times than I could count. My hands clenched as I watched the school bully zero in on his new target.

Paul leaned across the table and got into Clayton's face. Clayton wouldn't look up, his hair still in his face but I could see the tension in his shoulders. Clayton was not a small guy, his chest was wide and his arms were thick. I bet he could have taken Paul if he wanted to. But instead, all he did was sit there and seem to shut down, refusing to engage.

“One day someone is going to punch that loser right in the face.” Rachel muttered, looking away from the scene. I wanted that person to be Clayton. I don't know why I felt such a weird protectiveness over this guy who had been a total jerk to me. Maybe it was because there was something about Clayton Reed that seemed to broadcast vulnerability. The hunch to his shoulders, the refusal to look at anyone. It was as if he didn't want anyone to see him and that made me want to do just that.

I had never been as drawn to someone the way I was finding myself drawn to Clayton. I didn't even know him, had only shared a mouthful of words- (and they weren't nice-) but I wanted to say more, to hear more. So seeing Paul making Clayton his new verbal punching bag, set off my, once thought non- existent, nurturing side.

When Paul threw the MP3 player on the ground and stomped on it, I couldn't take it anymore. Without thinking, I got out of my seat and started moving toward the pair. I barely registered the “oh crap” looks on my friends' faces before I found myself behind Paul. The bully didn't hear me approach, he was much too focused on his prey.