Because You Suck: Chapter 5: Part 8

The lunch bell rang and Gentry stood up, Sydney and Ethan tagging alongside him.
“You better win, Gentry.”
“Yeah or we get a faggot on the team. Everyone’s counting on you.”
“Ok.”
“Hey, Gentry, did you study for that lit test?”
“Yeah. Everything is B except two tasks.”
“What college are you going to?”
“Not telling anyone.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s elitist to.”
“Oh, so it’s a bad school?”
“No, I just think---“
“Gotta go. Bye Gentry!”
“Yeah, bye man, thanks for the answers.”
Gentry waved at thin air, then pulled his backpack over his shoulder and headed for math class. There, Zach glared at him and Gentry glared back. For the millionth time, Gentry noticed Zach would look better without those fucking thick-rimmed black glasses. For the millionth time, Zach wondered what he had ever found in that back-stabbing freckle monster in the first place. Gentry slid into his seat and he automatically pulled out his homework to give it in. There, Sydney, who was the new class aid, would ruin it with an unnecessarily heavy stamp that would soak through to the back of the paper. As she did everyday, Kylie would gossip about everyone then whine that people were talking smack about her.
“Oh my God. I heard this dumb bitch in my Econ class called me a bitch!”
Mike would then make a feeble attempt to hit on her.
“You’re not a bitch Kylie. You’re really nice.”
And as always, it would go unnoticed.
“Awwe thanks Mike. Oh look! I got everyone’s Hawaiian dance pictures. I thought everyone looked okay, except Jenny. Don’t tell her I said that when she comes back from the bathroom, haha. Gentry, who do you think looks the ugliest?”
Gentry shrugged, mentally counting the seconds before Mike would remind him,
“Hey Gentry, you better win the swim competition.” He wouldn’t use the word faggot because Kylie was around.
“Yes, I’ll win.” Said Gentry, waiting for the next most common question that, according to probability, would be asked at least once every period of the day.
“Hey Gentry, What college are you going to?”
“I’m not telling anyone because I think it’s elitist and people just size each other up.”
“Ah, so you’re afraid of a little competition?” Kylie asked, laughing loudly so it would appear as a joke, then prodding on, “What are you majoring in?”
“Law.”
“That makes sense. Your dad’s a lawyer.”
Well, these people were his network. The people he relied on for social information and popularity. They were the pillars that held up his frame, the walls that made up his square of existence. He didn’t know where he would be without these popular, intelligent people. And they didn’t know how much he wanted to shoot them.
Jenny slammed the door as she came back from the restroom.
“Hey, Gentry.”
“Hm?”
“What college are you going to?”