Chapter Text
"Newt, honey. Wake up or you'll miss your bus," his mother said gently, shaking him.
Newt groaned and turned over, shoving the pillow over his head. He hated mornings and he hated waking up - especially when all he ever dreamed about was Thomas. His dreams never made it to the good part because his mom would always wake him up before them.
"5 more minutes," Newt whined, but by that time, the image of Thomas had already vanished from the back of his eyelids. He was hoping he would somehow reappear, but he didn't.
"You said 5 minutes 5 minutes ago, Newton. Now get up and get dressed."
His mom left the room and Newt sighed, giving himself a few more seconds to actually get up and take a shower. He wasn't too ecstatic about having to go to school, but Thomas was one of the main reasons he was able to get out of bed in the morning.
Thomas Taylor was the star football player of Redwood High and the halcyon that had Newt's heart in his pocket without even knowing. Ever since freshman year, Newt had been practically in love with Thomas, though he never spoke to him. Even now, as Newt is a senior, he still had not had one conversation with Thomas, but he's content with admiring him from afar for the most part. He spends most of his time daydreaming about him and watching him, as creepy as it sounds, learning to love every aspect there was to learn about Thomas.
There was nothing not to love about Thomas in Newt's mind - he was cute and funny and handsome and just perfect to Newt. The only part of Thomas Newt disliked was his stupid girlfriend Teresa. She wasn't the brightest crayon in the Crayola box and she wasn't the sweetest skittle of the package either. Instead, she reminded Newt of that sour American candy he still could not wrap his head around. The moral of the story is: Teresa was sour and Newt did not like her.
As cliche as it sounds, Teresa was the captain of the Jaguars - the Redwood cheerleading team. She's had her fair share of experience when it comes to guys, and Thomas just so happened to be her next victim. Newt wishes there was something he could do about it, but he knows there isn't, so he just lets it go.
Newt gets dressed after he finishes his shower and rushes downstairs to eat breakfast while his parents sit calmly in the kitchen. His dad is reading and his mom is drinking a cup of tea, leaning against the counter.
"I see you're finally out of bed," she says, smiling over her mug.
"I see you still haven't left for work," Newt counters, throwing bread into the toaster and fetching some jam to go along with it. His mom smiles again before taking another sip and resting her mug on the counter.
"Do you still have band practice today?" she asks and Newt nods, smothering his bread with jam and shoving it into his mouth quickly. His dad chuckles and shakes his head, looking down at his watch before jumping out of his seat after realizing what time it was.
"I better go," he says, grabbing his stuff and kissing Newt's mother on the lips before kissing Newt on the top of his head.
"Bye dad," he says with his mouth full and his mom scolds him for talking with his mouth full. He always had a habit for doing that and she always complained about it.
"Did you remember to brush your teeth?" his mom asks suddenly, and it takes Newt a few moments of contemplation to realize he hadn't. "Go upstairs now, Newt. Your bus'll be here any minute."
Newt rolls his eyes and shoves the remainder of his food in his mouth before running back up to the bathroom to brush his teeth. As soon as he gets a drop of water on his toothbrush, he hears the school bus beep it's horn outside and he tries his hardest to finish brushing his teeth as quick as possible, but by the time he makes it back downstairs, the bus is already gone.
"Mom! Can you drop me off?" he screams as he begins to walk out the front door to her car, but she yells back a reply that makes him stop in his steps.
"Did you remember your clarinet?"
Newt sighs as he runs back upstairs to fetch his clarinet and meets his mom outside, jumping into her car so she could drop him off. They didn't live too far from the school, and Newt was glad his mom was willing to drop him off because he would have been forced to walk, and that would have taken forever.
"How come you don't wear your glasses anymore?" his mom asks suddenly, glancing at him before turning her attention back to the road.
"I like the contacts better," Newt replies, and it's probably one of the biggest lies he's ever told to his mom. The contacts irritated his eyes and if he were to be honest, he preferred his glasses over his contacts any day.
"It's not because of what those boys said, is it?"
Newt knows she's talking about the football players, and he refuses to say yes because he knows she would make a big deal out of it. Even though she was just trying to protect him, Newt didn't want to give Thomas' friends another reason to make fun of him, so he chose to pretend like it didn't matter.
"No."
She gives Newt an unsure look but drops it, knowing Newt wouldn't want her to pushing him for answers. As soon as she parks in front of the school, Newt nearly jumps out of the car, but she stops him.
"Uh uh. Where's my kiss?"
Newt feels his cheeks burn red. He's sure people can see them and he really doesn't want to be embarrassed so early in the morning.
"Mom," he whines, looking at her and asking do I have to with his eyes.
"You're not leaving this car until I get my kiss."
He leans over stubbornly and kisses her cheek before stepping out the car without saying goodbye. He then realizes he should've reevaluated because she rolled her window down and made sure to embarrass him even more.
"Bye Newton! I love you!"
Newt walked fast and ignored her along with the people that were laughing at him while his cheeks burned red. He ran his fingers through his hair and tried to avoid all eye contact with everyone as he walked over to his locker, unlocking it and shoving his clarinet into it. After he closed his locker, he rushed through the hallways, trying to get to his first period class on time considering he was already a few minutes behind for missing the bus. He walked into his English class just as the bell rang and sighed to himself, keeping his head down as he walked to his seat that was at the very back of the classroom. Mrs. Patterson was giving him a disappointed look, but Newt knew she wouldn't write him up.
Mrs. Patterson was Newt's favorite teacher. Every time Newt had the chance, he would go to her classroom and they would just talk. Sometimes they could talk for hours and Newt found a strange comfort within her presence.
"Good morning everyone. Today we will be-"
Before she could finish her sentence, Thomas entered the room with Minho who was laughing boisterously. Minho was the quarterback of the football team and Thomas' right-hand man. Wherever Thomas was, Minho was too.
Thomas looked over in Newt's direction and Newt wanted to crawl in a hole because he always felt intimidated by him. He wasn't mean, but Newt felt insignificant whenever Thomas was around. Thomas shoved Minho playfully and they sat down in their usual seats, which were three rows in front of Newt's. Minho always sat near the window and Thomas would sit directly beside him, giving Newt the perfect view of him.
"Gentleman. It's nice of you to finally join us."
"Sorry," Thomas replies. Newt doesn't think he's heard a voice so wonderful before. "Coach Sanders lost track of time."
Minho continues to laugh and when Thomas turned to glare at him, Newt saw a huge purple bruise residing on the side of his neck. Common sense told him Teresa had given it to him and that's what Minho had been laughing at. At first he assumed they were laughing at whatever it is football players and cool kids laughed and, of course, he had no idea of what that would be. But now he understood, and he couldn't help but hate Teresa even more because of it.
Mrs. Patterson doesn't look impressed. "As I was saying, today we will begin reading The Catcher and the Rye by J.D Salinger. Does anybody know anything about it?"
She scans the classroom and Newt looks down to avoid her eyes. He knew she was expecting him to raise his hand, considering they had a conversation about both the book and his lack or participation just yesterday. She was well aware of Newt's nervousness, but she still encouraged him to participate anyway.
"No one?"
No one in the classroom raised their hand, so she moved on. "Alright. Does anyone know anything about Salinger?"
Once again, no one raised their hand and Mrs. Patterson sighed in defeat. "Oh boy. I'll hand out the books and give you guys a general idea of it then, alright?"
The class hummed and Newt reverted his attention back to Thomas, watching as he and Minho began talking once again. He had no idea what they were talking about, but he found himself getting lost in the thought of him as he gazed in his direction.
One thing Newt adored about Thomas was his eyes. Though he had never seen them up close, he had seen them in the pictures on Thomas' Facebook page, which he spent a good amount of his free time stalking. He had also seen them from afar, and they always seemed to shine even from a distance.
Newt often wondered what it would be like to be with Thomas. He wondered what his hands felt like and what his lips would feel like when he pressed their lips together. This only happened within Newt's dreams, but at the moment, Newt was satisfied with this. He thought that maybe if he hoped and prayed to a God he doesn't necessarily believe in, Thomas would finally acknowledge his existence and dump that sorry excuse he calls a girlfriend.
A pat on Newt's shoulder is what snaps him out of his momentary daze, and he looks over to see Mrs. Patterson giving him a look he couldn't quite read. "Be careful, sweetie."
She places a copy of The Catcher and the Rye on his desk and walks away and Newt sighs. It was going to be a long day.
If Newt was to think about it, Winston was probably his best friend. They spent most of their time together as they were in the same clubs and lived in the same neighborhood. They always sat next to each other on the bus and talked about movies and comic books, even sharing headphones on rare occasions. Newt didn't have many friends, but he was pretty glad he got to call Winston one of them.
Winston played the Tuba in the school band, and that was how they met. Newt had always been enthusiastic about music and his mom encouraged him to join, so he did. Ever since, Winston and Newt have been pretty close.
After Band practice, Newt and Winston usually walked home together, but today was a bit different. As they were walking out of the music room, Ms. Phillips, the music teacher, called him and asked him to stay back for a few moments.
"Do you want me to wait for you?" Winston asked.
"No it's okay. I'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
Winston nodded and waved before leaving with the rest of the kids and Newt walked over to Ms. Phillips, giving her a soft smile. "You said you wanted to see me?"
"Yes. I was going to ask you about the football game."
Newt raises an eyebrow. "What about it?"
"One of our clarinet players isn't feeling too good and I was wondering if you could to perform with the marching band tomorrow?"
Newt wants to say no, but the look in Ms. Phillips eyes makes him want to say yes. The last time he performed with the school marching band, he was made fun of for 3 weeks straight by Gally. He definitely was not looking forward to that happening again, and he was hoping he would never have to put on that stupid costume ever again in his life.
"But I don't know the arrangement," he says, hoping that was a good enough excuse for her to understand.
"Don't worry, we learned it towards the end of last year. If you don't remember it, I can give you the sheet music for you to study tonight?"
It didn't sound like Ms. Phillips was giving him much of an option. "Do I have to?"
Ms. Phillips laughs. "Of course you don't have to. I'm asking you to. You're one of our best players and I was really hoping you'd help us out here."
Now he feels guilty. If he says no, he'd be letting both Ms. Phillips down and the marching band. One football game wouldn't hurt, right?
"Okay I guess I'll do it then."
Ms. Phillips smile is so wide, Newt can't help but smile back. She hands him the sheet music and squeezes his shoulder. "Thank you so much Newt! You'll do great tomorrow, I promise."
Newt says goodbye to her and begins walking home, the fall breeze sending shivers up his spine. Reality doesn't actually hit him until he gets home, and he immediately regrets agreeing to it after he realizes Thomas would be at that game, and he would see Newt in that embarrassing outfit.
Great. Yet another reason for Thomas Taylor to think Newt was the biggest dork in the world.