Untold Futures part 2
The next day Thomas noticed Newt slip into class at the last moment before the bell rang. He watched the boy walk across the room and sit at a desk in the back, out of the corner of his eye. He wore the same leather jacket as yesterday, and had the same cheeky look on his face. Mr. Janson took attendance and went straight into class. The whole hour Thomas found himself stealing small glances in the direction of Newt, he didn't know why. At the end of class he was finally caught studding the strange teen as he looked up from his phone. A smirk spread across Newt’s boyish face and he walked over to talk to Thomas.
“Hi Thomas!” He greeted.
“Hey… Nate?” How does this guy remember my name?
“It's Newt”
“Yeah, Newt. Sorry,” Thomas felt his face reddin. He may not like him, but the least he could do was remember the guy’s name.
“So Thomas, what class do you have next?” Newt brushed off the incorrect name and continued the apparent conversation.
“Honors English. I should probably get going if I'm going to make it in time,” the brunet gave a small smile and walked away. He didn't want to come off as rude, but he also didn't want Newt thinking they were going to become bffs or anything like that.
After fourth hour Thomas made his way across the school to his locker to switch out some textbooks. He made it there only to realize his new pet peeve was also present, Newt.
“Watcha Thomas, Tom, Tommy. Can I call you Tommy?” The blonde asked and he leaned against Thomas’s locker, having finished his own business.
“Call me whatever. And what the heck does watcha mean?” Thomas asked with complete confusion.
“Sorry, it just means hi,” Newt clarified. Thomas thought he saw him blush, but he wasn't sure. Thomas closed his locker and started walking to the courtyard to meet up with Minho. Newt silently invited himself and walked along with Thomas. “So Tommy, what are you doing this weekend?”
“I don't have any plans, really just homework,” Thomas answered blankly.
“Wow, it's only the first week of school mate. You really like to know your onions!” He replied and patted Thomas on the shoulder.
“Ah, what is that supposed to mean?” Apparently this is going to be a common problem.
“Just means you like to… Know your stuff. Bloody Americans,” Newt muttered the last part but Thomas still heard him.
“Bloody Americans? You're on our turf now man, deal with it. How long have you been here anyway?” Thomas retorted.
“Only since the middle of summer, and not by choice either. My mom’s job transferred her here, supposedly it pays better,” Newt informed as he followed Thomas around a corner.
“What about your dad, what does he do?” Thomas inquired, becoming interested in the Brit’s story.
“Haven't got one. The bastard left when I was four,” Newt shrugged as if he had just told Thomas what his favorite candy was.
“Oh, sorry Newt,” Thomas responded and then it was quite. To his relief they had finally reached the courtyard. Still leading the way, Thomas went straight to the bench where he sat the other day to wait for his friend. Just as Newt sat Minho appeared through the door. He jogged to the bench and put his hands on his hips, looking down at Newt.
“Have I been replaced?” The Asian boy directed his question at Thomas but kept his death stare focused on Newt, who’s face revealed a slight discomfort. A strange look on the leather wearing teen. Before Thomas could say anything Newt stood, towering at least an inch above Minho. Minho’s face relaxed into a playful smirk. “Hey blondie!” He greeted Newt. “You gonna introduce us or what Thomas?” Minho sat on the other side of Thomas. The sudden change in attitude left Newt befuddled and he slowly sat back down.
“Minho, Newt. Newt, Minho.” The boy said as he attacked his lunch.
“Nice to meet you shank. Say, I haven't seen you before. Ya new?” Minho reached across Thomas and extended his hand to the boy.
“Yeah, my mom and I just moved here from Stockport. It's south of London,” Newt took Minho's hand and shook it.
“Oh cool. So do you like, watch Doctor Who and drink tea and stuff?” Minho asked.
“Ah, yeah I guess,” Newt shrugged and started unpacking his lunch.
“Min, you watch too much tv,” Thomas commented.
“Hey, there’s no such thing as too much Doctor Who! It's an art form,” Newt exclaimed, defending his fandom.
“I like ya Newt,” Minho said matter of factly, and Thomas rolled his eyes. Newt blushed before realizing the Asian meant it as a friend. All too soon for Minho the lunch hour came to an end. For Thomas on the other hand, fifth period was a welcome break from sitting in between the two energetic teens. It wasn't that Newt was bad, but he definitely made a difference in the atmosphere of his normal lunch.
•••
After the last bell rang Thomas stopped at his locker and again saw Newt. Why do I keep running into you here? Yet again when Newt saw Thomas he went over to talk to the boy.
“Watcha Tommy!” He greeted.
“Hey.” Thomas replied and he started walking towards the door. Newt followed closely behind him.
“What’re you doing today?”
“Homework,” Thomas answered blankly
“You're always doing homework!” Newt winned.
“You've known me for two days Newt.”
“Ok then, what else do you do besides homework?”
“Well, chess club hasn't started yet.”
“Oh, I should have guessed. But what else do you like to do?” Newt asked as they reached the door to the parking lot. Thomas assumed Newt was staying inside like the day before so he didn't answer. To his supersize the Brit followed him through the door. Thomas was even more surprised when Newt took out a pack of cigarettes and light one. “Come on Tommy. I'm just trying to have a simple chinwag with you and it's feeling quite one sided!”
“You're trying to have a what?” Thomas almost yelled in utter confusion.
“A chin wag. It just means like a chat or a talk,” Newt clarified. The taller boy bumped into Thomas when he stopped abruptly. Thomas pulled keys out of his pocket and unlocked the old, dark green car they were standing next to. Newt watched as Thomas threw his backpack into the passenger seat and got in. “See ya Tommy,” the blonde blew out a puff of smoke and started walking away.
“Bye,” Thomas replied as he turned the key in the ignition. The car let out a sickly rumble. “Shuck,” Thomas muttered but somehow Newt heard him and turned around.
“What happened?”
“The car won't start. I’ve no clue how to fix it and no time to call someone who does!” Thomas answered, taking a deep breath.
“Well I could probably fix it if you’ve got some tools, but if you're pressed for time I could give you a lift?” Newt answered and he leaned against the side of the car. Thomas hesitated.
“Thanks, but I couldn't.”
“Oh come on, I'm not going to kidnap you or anything!” Newt clarified with a laugh. Thomas bit his lip in thought. What do I think is going to happen?
“Alright,” Thomas grabbed his backpack, locked the car again, and followed Newt across the parking lot. Thomas froze when Newt stopped by his vehicle. “I am not getting on that!” He said pointing at the shiny black motorcycle that Newt stood bye.
“Oh come on Tommy. It's not that dangerous. Here, you can wear my helmet even,” Newt held out a deep blue helmet that would cover his entire head, with a window to see out of. Thomas stared at it as if just touching it would make him internally bleed, then back to Newt. He made a face as the blonde breathed out the horrid smoke from his cigarette. “If you except I'll put it out,” Newt suggested, motioning to the cigarette.
“Fine. This is going to kill you ya know,” Thomas took the helmet from Newt’s outstretched hand and put it over his head, encasing himself into a cage of protection. At least he normally wears a helmet.
“What is, the motorcycle or cigarettes?” The teen asked as he sat on the cushioned seat. He threw the half smoked cigarette on the ground and stopped on it.
“Both,” cautiously Thomas sat down behind Newt. Half of his brain screaming at him for letting himself ride something as dangerous as a motorcycle. But the other half wanted to trust this strange boy.
“You can hold on to me if you need to. Where’re we going?” Thomas told Newt the address, but left his arms dangling awkwardly by his sides. I’m not that weak, I don't need to hold onto him. However, as soon as the vehicle started moving Thomas threw his arms around Newt’s waist and leaned into him to keep his balance.
“Tommy, we’re going bloody five miles per hour,” Newt laughed. Thomas realized how tight he was squeezing Newt, and he lessened his grip on the boy. Newt was remarkably skinny, and Thomas’s hands found that he seemed to have abbs under the leather jacket. He was glad Newt couldn't see his face, because he was sure it was as red as a tomato at the realization. Finally, Newt turned onto Thomas’s street.
“You can stop here. If my mom sees me on this thing she’ll freak out for sure,” Thomas said, and Newt pulled the motorcycle to the curb. He got off and handed the Brit his helmet. “Well, thanks for the ride.”
“Any time. Hey Tommy, why did you need to get home so quickly? I thought you were just doing homework,” Newt asked, running a hand through his blonde hair.
“Oh yeah, I have to baby sit my neighbor Chuck. He's like 10 so I don't have to do too much,” Thomas replied and he started walking in the direction of his house, giving Newt a wave.
“Hey Tommy!” Thomas turned to face Newt again. “You're very reserved, aren't you?” Newt winked at Thomas, and without waiting for a reply he put his helmet on and drove away. Slightly confused about the wink and this curious boy, Thomas walked the rest of the way home.
“Hey mom!” Thomas called as he walked in the door to his house.
“Hi Thomas! You're running late, did something happen?” His mom, Amelia, looked up from her book to greet her son.
“Yeah, my car won't start. But a friend gave me a ride. I'll ask dad about it when he gets home,” Thomas explained as he heaved his backpack off and scoured the kitchen for a snack.
“Oh, that's good. Who was it?” Amelia put her book down.
“His name’s Newt, you don't know him. He's new to the school,” Thomas answered and he settled on a bag of Cheetos.
“Oh that’s nice of you to be friends with the new kid!” She smiled, her face lighting up with pride. Not by choice, he kind of forced it onto me. Thomas laughed to himself at this thought. “What's funny?”
“Oh nothing. Ava is probably waiting for me, I should get over there now,” Thomas grabbed his backpack and waved to his mom. Walking two doors down he stood on the porch of the Paige household and rang the doorbell.
“Hi Thomas! Come on in,” Chuck’s mom, Ava, open the door and motioned Thomas inside.
“Sorry I'm late, I had some car trouble,” Thomas said apologetically as he entered.
“Well you're here now. I've got to go, but I'll be back around six,” she gave Thomas a smile, hugged Chuck goodbye before leaving.
“So Chuck, how was your day?” Thomas sat next to the boy in the dining room and put his backpack on the wood floor.
“Normal,” the chubby boy sighed and he stared down at his math worksheet. “How was yours?” Thomas thought a moment before answering.
“It was strange. This New kid Newt was following me around, and then my car wouldn't start so he gave me a ride. He sort of insisted that I let him…” Thomas rambled before fading into a mumble.
“His name's Newt? That's funny! What kind of car does he have? It's not old like yours is it?” Chuck spewed.
“Well it's actually not a car, it’s a motorcycle. I don't know what kind or anything like that, but it's black, and it didn't look old,” Thomas answered frankly and he pulled a textbook out of his backpack.
“Woah he has a motorcycle! That's so cool! And you rode it!” Chuck looked at Thomas, awestruck.
“Yeah I suppose so. But it's really dangerous too. I didn't ride it to be cool I rode it because I had to get here,” Thomas informed.
“Yeah yeah I know,” Chuck sighed and went back to his work, uninterested in what uncool Thomas had to say.