Snitch

I’m not sure
wh
ich
day it all began because one day felt like another. Maybe it was when Seth came to our school. Maybe it was when I noticed Liz’s emerald green eyes, or maybe when Johnny floated away from me without me even noticing. Maybe it wasn’t a day at all.

Maybe it was just a combination of days all snowballed into one unexpected cosmic glitch with all the right people doing all the right things and all the horrible, wrong things falling into place like dominoes.

As good of a day as any was a game-day Thursday, when we were at our lockers, teachers were yelling at us to get to class, and the hallway talk was all about who was seeing who, what the craziest rumors were, or who was going to win the game that night. Like I said, it could have been any normal day.

Whenever it was, whatever it was, it crept up on all of us without anyone expecting it, because we just didn’t think anything like this could happen
.
After all, we were just a bunch of high school freshman; nothing could happen.

Not to us.

If he wasn’t careful, Johnny was going to get his butt beat and probably the rest of him, too.
We were trailing Seth down the
noisy
hallway, keeping a s
afe distance between him and us
,
Joh
nny taunting Seth the way
only Johnny
-boy can do and still get aw
ay with it
.

“Andy, don’t you think Coach is going to start Wes tonight?”
he
asked loudly
enough for Seth to hear before raising his eyebrows, cueing me to take the lead.

“Sure do, Johnny,” I answered loudly.

But Seth didn’t react.
Carrying his backpack on one arm, he
plodded towards his locker
through a maze of half-asleep kids
like he did every other morning before first period.

“He hears us,”
Johnny
whispered through his grin.
“Watch this.”

I grabbed Johnny’s shoulder. “Be careful. I’ve heard he goes off pretty easily when he gets mad.”

Johnny smiled
.
“What’s he gonna do with all these teachers standing around? Just watch my back.”

I always
watched
Johnny’s back
, e
ver since first grade when
the girl who sat in front of me
wished out loud for red hair. Johnny had the brush, and I had the paint. Even though our teacher didn’t find her beautiful, we told
her
she was
and had so much fun doing it
,
pranking
became the
glue
that bound our lasting friendship
. In second grade
,
I kept Miss Fisher busy while Johnny put the spider in her desk drawer or smeared paste on the back of our crayoned pictures; by third, our teachers had
grown
smart
enough to
separate
us
,
which meant we had to do most of our work at recess: a small colony of ants carried in our pockets and carefully placed by the trays in the cafeteria line, a tack on old Mr. Grimes’ chair, glue on the toilet seats in the boys’ bathroom.

But it wasn’t until fifth grade when we played our greatest prank ever
.
Old crutches picked out of someone’s garbage pile gave us the props necessary to convince Miss Merriman that Johnny had
sprained
his
ankle
and needed
to leave five minutes early for lunch and recess.
Of course, b
eing his best friend, I was the one who
had
to help him.
We
got in
to
big trouble for that one, but
for a while
we
were known as superstars of the prankster world in our little elementary school. A
ll
in
all
,
our pranks were
harmless,
little-boy tricks played in an impulsive second
that
we relived over and over for
hours of best
-
friend, gut-wrenching giggling.

But things changed in junior high. Somewhere around seventh grade
,
without us wanting to, girls slid into our world like winter slides into spring. Our silly pranks which gained attention from the guys were traded for smooth-talking comebacks which attracted attention from the ladies. Johnny was a master; I
,
his eager but awkward pupil. Girls made my mouth dry up and say stupid things. They still do.

But pranks and teasing I was good at, and at this moment Seth was our next target. He was new to the school, and although he was a great addition to our team
,
rumor had it he had transferred because of
something
that had happened at his last school. Normally I like to know the variables when I mess with someone, and there was that mystery
something,
so I pulled Johnny back
by his book bag
.

I eyeballed the hallway.
It was in its usual early
morning mayhem.
Girls crouched in front of their lock
er mirrors adjusting their hair.
Boys
chunked heavy textbooks from their packs to already full lockers.
Teachers
haunted the hallway
chanting their familiar, unheard warnings to get to class. He was right
;
what could happen?

Disregarding their voices, I pushed Johnny
around two whispering girls
towards Seth, anxious to see how this whole thing would play out. “Let’s go,” I said.

Johnny moved over Seth’s shoulder and whispered
loudly
in his ear, “Starter on our team tonight, leading us to victory
—
Wes
Jenkins.
Warming the bench, our replaced starter
—
Seth Biggman.”

He jumped back just in time to miss Seth’s flashing fist.

“Asshole!”
Seth growled.

“Whoa! Seth!
Just teasing.
Lighten up.”

“Why don’t you shut up?” Seth breathed.
He returned to his backpack and pulled at
his
math book
which was
wedged in it
sideways
.

“Is there a problem over there?” Mrs. Mathews asked from
her doorway
across the hallway.

Seth and Johnny locked eyes and Johnny smiled.

“Naw.
Just playing.
Right
,
Seth?
Just playing.”

Seth
hesitated
a moment before
echoing Johnny’s smile
for Mrs. Mathew
s’
benefit.

“Sure. No problem here.” He turned back to his locker and busied himself
with his math book again
.
By now
,
Seth was angrily peeling
the poor backpack apart
, working at pulling the zipper even wider
.

Johnny’s wink proved he was far from finished with
him
. “Don’t worry.
I’m
just pushing a few buttons.” He leaned into Seth again and said one word: “Starter!”