TICK TICK TICK
The clock on the classroom wall moved with an agonizing mechanical rhythm. The second hand jerked forward, hitting each black notch with a dull metallic click.
Ben Tennyson sat in the third row. His eyes remained locked on the clock face. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple. He wiped it away with the back of his hand, leaving a damp smear on his forehead.
Beneath his desk, his fingers crinkled a limited edition Sumo Slammer gold-foil card.
The plastic sleeve made a sharp sound every time his thumb pressed against it.
"And so, the importance of the Magna Carta lies in its—"
Mrs. Konig's voice cut through the air. She stood at the chalkboard, her chalk scraping against the slate surface.
SKREEEEEE!
The high-pitched sound made Ben's teeth ache. He winced, his shoulders bunching up toward his ears.
"Hey, dweeb." A whisper came from the seat directly behind him. Ben didn't turn around, as he already knew who that annoying tone belongs to.
"Hey, I'm talking to you, Tennyson," Cash Murray hissed.
Ben felt the tip of a pencil dig into his lower back. The lead poked through his thin white t-shirt and pricked his skin. He nearly jumped off his seat in pain and surprise.
"Cut it out, Cash," Ben muttered. He leaned forward to escape the pencil.
"What was that? I can't hear you over the sound of your own pathetic life," Cash whispered.
He leaned closer, the smell of sour onion chips hitting the back of Ben's neck. "After school, I'm gonna hang you from the flagpole by your underwear...prepare for it, It's a summer tradition after all."
Ben gripped his Sumo Slammer card harder. "Why don't you go find a fire hydrant to leg-hump? It's more your speed."
Cash's face turned a blotchy shade of purple. The veins on his forehead bulged. He raised his hand to deliver a heavy smack to the back of Ben's head.
WHACK!
"OW! HEY!" Ben's head snapped forward. His forehead nearly hit the desk when he got hit by Cash.
He spun around, his eyes wide and teeth bared.
"BENJAMIN TENNYSON!" Mrs. Konig stood at the front of the room. She held a heavy wooden ruler in one hand. She slammed it down onto her desk.
SLAM!
The sound echoed off the cinderblock walls. A girl in the front row jumped so hard her glasses slid down to the tip of her nose.
"Is there something more important than the foundation of modern law that you need to discuss with Mr. Murray?" Mrs. Konig asked.
She stepped toward Ben's desk. Her loafers clicked against the linoleum floor.
Ben looked at the ruler. He then turn to look at Cash, who was currently wearing a fake, innocent smile.
"Cash poked me with his pencil," Ben said. He pointed over his shoulder.
"Liar," Cash whispered. He held up his hands, showing they were empty. He had already tucked the pencil behind his ear.
Mrs. Konig stopped at Ben's desk. She looked down at him. A small piece of white chalk dust sat on her upper lip.
"I don't care who started it," she stated. Her voice came out coldly. "What I care about is that you are disrupting my final lecture before summer break. One more word, and you'll spend the first three hours of your summer break right here in this chair."
Ben sank lower into his seat. He felt the heat of embarrassment rising in his cheeks.
In the hallway, a janitor pushed a heavy metal cart.
CLATTER-CLANG!
"MOVE YOUR ASS, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" the janitor yelled.
A student had apparently gotten in the way of the cart. The sound of running footsteps faded down the hall.
Ben looked back at the clock. The second hand reached the twelve.
BRRRRRRIIIIIIING!
The school bell screamed.
Chaos erupted instantly. Twenty-five chairs scraped against the floor simultaneously.
SCRREEECH!
"SUMMER!" a kid in the back yelled.
Students scrambled for the door. They shoved past each other, elbows flying.
Ben grabbed his backpack and swung it over his shoulder. He moved toward the exit, but a large hand clamped down on his shoulder.
"Don't think you're getting away that easy, Tennyson," Cash growled into his ear.
Ben felt the grip tighten, the fabric of his shirt bunching under Cash's thick fingers.
Ben looked at the door. Freedom was ten feet away. He had to get to the Rustbucket before Cash decided to follow through on the flagpole threat.
Ben wrenched his shoulder forward with a violent twist. The fabric of his t-shirt made a sharp sound as it strained against Cash's grip.
RIP!
A small hole opened near the collar of Ben's shirt. But he didn't stop to look. He dived under the arm of a tall senior who was busy shoving a smaller kid into a locker.
"HEY! WATCH IT, YOU LITTLE SHIT!" the senior yelled. He kicked out a heavy combat boot, narrowly missing Ben's ankle.
Ben scrambled through the sea of legs and over-stuffed backpacks. The floor was sticky with spilled soda and discarded gum. His sneakers made a rhythmic SQUEAK SQUEAK SQUEAK against the tile.
He reached the heavy double doors of the school exit and slammed his weight into the metal push-bar.
WHAM!
The doors swung open. The afternoon heat hit him in the face immediately.
He sprinted toward the parking lot, his backpack bouncing against his spine with a heavy THUD every time his feet hit the pavement.
"GET BACK HERE, TENNYSON!" Cash and JT burst through the doors behind him.
Cash's face was bright red. He was breathing heavily through his mouth, his chest heaving under his varsity jacket.
Ben veered left, darting between a row of yellow school buses. The smell of diesel fumes made his nose itch. He saw a familiar, bulky shape parked near the edge of the lot. It was an old, rust-streaked RV with a white and a slight green paint job.
The Rustbucket.
Grandpa Max sat in the driver's seat. He was wearing a red Hawaiian shirt with white hibiscus flowers. His thick, calloused hands gripped the steering wheel.
Next to him, Gwen Tennyson sat with her arms crossed. Her orange hair was pulled back, and she was glaring at a thick book in her lap.
Ben reached the side door of the RV and grabbed the handle.
He yanked it open and threw himself inside. He landed hard on the carpeted floor, his knees barking in pain as they hit the metal step.
"Go, Grandpa! Go!" Ben scrambled to his feet, slamming the door shut.
BANG!
Max looked into the rearview mirror. His gray eyebrows shot up toward his receding hairline. "Rough day at the office, Ben?"
"Just drive!" Ben climbed into the passenger seat, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Max shifted the gear stick.
K-THUNK
The engine roared. A cloud of black smoke billowed from the exhaust pipe, hitting Cash and JT right in their faces as they reached the back of the van.
"COUGH! COUGH! YOU DAMN IT...COUGH!" Cash screamed, waving his arms through the soot.
He kicked the back bumper of the RV, but the vehicle was already pulling away.
"Nice t-shirt, dweeb," Gwen remarked. She didn't look up from her book. She reached over and flicked the torn edge of Ben's collar.
"Is 'homeless chic' the new look for summer?"
"Shut up, Gwen," Ben snapped. He wiped a smudge of dirt off his face. "Cash tried to hang me from a flagpole. I'd like to see you handle that without getting a scratch."
"I wouldn't be in that position because I actually have a brain," Gwen replied. She turned a page in her book, the paper making a crisp SLAP against the opposite side.
The Rustbucket bounced as it hit a pothole in the parking lot exit.
Ben's head hit the window.
THACK.
He rubbed the side of his skull, his fingers finding a small bump already forming.
"Now, now," Max said. He reached into a small cooler between the seats. He pulled out a clear plastic container filled with something gray and translucent. It wobbled as he moved it.
"Let's keep it friendly. We've got a long drive ahead of us to the campsite. Who's hungry? I've got some marinated sea-slug gizzards."
The smell hit Ben instantly. It was a mixture of old gym socks and rotting fish. He felt the saliva pool in the back of his throat.
GULP
"I think I'll pass, Grandpa," Ben said. He looked out the window as the school faded into the distance.