Main Bonus #62: Health Class (Patreon)

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“YOU GUYS WANT to skip?” I ask and shove a math textbook into the Dalton blue locker. Currently, my locker is stuffed to the brim and in threat of exploding. New textbooks are piled high. A lucky Groot plushie is squished underneath my retro Valerian steel lunch box. And I think there’s a hairbrush somewhere between all the plastic binders.

While Eliot leans against the locker next to mine and types on his phone, Tom squats down and reties his shoelace.

“Skip health class? Very, very tempting,” Tom says, rising to a full stance. He opens my locker wider to fix his golden-brown hair in the little magnetic mirror.

Still typing on his phone, Eliot says, “Alas, it’d be unwise to skip today. It’s day one of the spring semester.”

“So?” I ask.

“So, it’s syllabus day. Easiest day of the entire year. I propose we pocket our skips for a better day.” He slips the phone in his back pocket, eyeing me up and down like I’m a second from shoving myself into my own locker.

I’ve only done that twice. Both times to avoid a run-in with bullies. Conflict resolution at its finest.

Thankfully Eliot isn’t bestowing me with pity or annoyance, but rather, he is an encouraging force. The fire under my butt. He grabs the locker door, like he’ll be the one to shut it before I have the opportunity to fling myself inside.

I shake out my stiff arms and wiggle my shoulders. I’m wearing the same Dalton Academy uniform as every other girl. Blouse and skirt and blazer. But some days, it feels like I’m floating through hallways with a scarlet H on my chest.

H for Hale.

The thought of having to endure health class while wearing that H makes my skin crawl.

I loosen my knees with a kick outward. “If I could, I’d skip every day,” I tell them. “This is gonna be torture.” I go still. “No, wait, I might prefer torture over this.”

Eliot shuts my locker and tilts his head at me. “Be careful what you wish for, Luna.” His eyes shift upward. “The walls are listening.”

Tom stops fiddling with his hair to look at me. “Don’t listen to him. Walls don’t have ears.”

“On the contrary, brother. The world is a stage. The walls are always listening. Remember that every time you’re in your bedroom.”

Tom cringes. “Gross, dude.”

The warning bell goes off, and students start scampering towards their classes before the tardy bell rings. The three of us don’t move a muscle.

My stomach has twisted uncomfortably. “What if the health teacher is sadistic and decides today is the day we discuss sex education?”

“No way,” Tom shakes his head. “That is high levels of fuckery to do that on the first day. I mean, we haven’t even met our classmates.”

“It’s something I would do,” Eliot notes. “Keep the students on their toes. Make them squirm.”

Tom waves to Eliot as evidence. “Which is why it’s not happening. No one is like Eliot Alice Cobalt.”

Eliot bows dramatically and replies in swift French. I only understand the thank you, brother out of his response.

With one more shimmy and shake and kick that Tom and Eliot join in on, I let my stress go and fly away with the wind. Not that there is any wind in this stuffy hallway. We make a “W” with our fingers to our foreheads.

Weirdos united, I’m not so alone. “You’re both probably right.” I nod strongly. “Let’s save our skip for a better day.”

“Hear, hear,” Eliot calls out, and the three of us make our way to health class, the hallway empty now. Our shoes squeak on the polished floors, and the too bright fluorescent lights hurt my eyes. Finally, we reach the class.

Tom sneaks in first, then Eliot, and I follow behind just as noiselessly. As soon as I have both feet in the classroom, I go cold.

Bananas.

Bananas are sitting on every single desk.

Nononono. I immediately whirl around, ready to sprint out of the class. Out of the school. Time to skip! My brain is screaming at me.

But as soon as I spin 360 degrees, the teacher slams the door shut in my face. The final bell rings.

I. Am. Trapped.

This is my own personal hell.

Has to be.

“You three, take a seat,” Mr. Adams instructs. The PE teachers also teach health class. So seeing the same teacher who almost failed me last semester for not completing enough push-ups in PE sends another wave of dread.

I avoid Mr. Adams’ eyes and beeline towards the only open desks, which happen to be in the very middle. At least these three are grouped together in a row. Eliot takes the middle seat, his eyes on the banana at his desk. He looks impressed. Ugh, I am not impressed by Mr. Adams’ sadism. Who does this on the first day of class?

Evil. Pure evil.

I set my spiral notebook on my desk. It’s for notes. Not that I think there will be notes today. It looks like this is a “hand-on” activity. I inwardly groan and try to peer past Eliot’s shoulder to see Tom. He’s staring at the classroom door, and I wonder if he’s planning an escape. Please take me with you.

“Luna.” Jeffra’s hissing voice behind me feels like spiders crawling down my neck. As if this day couldn’t get any worse. “Luna.”

Slowly, I turn around to confirm that she is indeed in this class with me. She taps her sparkly gel pen to the top of her binder in irritation, as if I took too long to acknowledge her existence. I also hate that I kinda like that pen.

“You sure you need to be here, Luna?” she asks with a quirked brow.

There’s a punchline. I know there is.

Eliot’s already spinning around, but I try really hard not to have Tom and Eliot fight all my battles for me. They’re not going to be with me for forever.

“Yeah, this class is on my schedule,” I tell her.

She smiles like I’m too dense for existence. “No, silly, I mean in here in class today. Because I’m sure you’ve been extensively taught about condoms and sex at home.”

Laughter ignites around us, mostly from her friends, and I don’t have a good comeback. I never really do, and usually if I speak, it just makes it worse. But I want to say something. Maybe if I were braver today…

Tom is shooting daggers at a couple guys, silently saying, shut up. I’m doing my best not to engage with any of our classmates.

Eliot has fully rotated in his seat and looks Jeffra up and down. “Knew it,” he says.

Jeffra scowls. “Knew what?” Her tone is sour.

“You’re as ugly on the outside as you are on the inside.” He rotates back around without giving her a chance to respond, and I do the same.

Some people laugh, but then her friend, Eugenia, sticks up for her. “Low blow, Eliot, dissing a girl on her looks.”

Eliot’s gaze flashes hot, and he goes to turn again, but I shake my head. He clenches teeth, nose flaring, and then Mr. Adams clears his throat and speaks.

“Quiet down,” he says. “Quiet down! Noah, do not eat the banana. Come on now.” He huffs like he’s already fed up with us on day one. “I know you all love this day, so I thought we’d get it over with now rather than wait for the fun later. I’m going to play a video about safe sex, and then you all will put the condom on the banana. Write your name in Sharpie on the peel and turn it in for class credit. You can pick up your syllabus on the way out.”

He makes it seem like such a simple task.

Video. Banana. Condom. Syllabus. Freedom.

But nothing about this is simple.

Garrett Kincaid sits to my left. He cranes his body towards my desk as Mr. Adams starts the movie. “Hey, Luna,” he whispers, “you think you can give me a hand with my banana? I hear you were taught by an expert.”

My insides knot.

I want to say something in defense of my mom. The longer I go with being quiet, the more guilt starts to sour my stomach.

Ten minutes later, I finally scrounge up a morsel of courage. I lean back to Garrett and whisper, “I wasn’t taught by anyone.”

I immediately regret speaking. His eyes flash over me in a searing wave that makes me feel exposed and awful, then he swivels around to Jeffra. My face burns as he speaks in a loud enough whisper for me to hear. “She says she wasn’t taught how to put a condom on.”

Students start snickering. I’m sure some of them have never even touched a condom in their life! I have. But I’m done trying to defend myself or my mom.

Truthfully, my mom told me if I ever needed to talk more about safe sex, she was all ears. But I’ve never gone to my parents for help with condoms. I don’t really want them knowing when I’m sexually active.

Jeffra winces. “Ooh, Luna. Maybe you should be in this class. Who knows what kind of STDs you could have?”

I’m a virgin!

I’ve never been kissed!

Cheeks on fire, I don’t look back and give Jeffra the satisfaction of seeing my anger. Instead, I glare at the TV screen that plays some old nineties-era footage of a high school couple talking about “doing it” for the first time.

I hate being this silent though.

It blisters inside me and makes me feel guilty of their accusations. Long ago, I had a choice between going to Dalton Academy and being homeschooled.

Being homeschooled felt like letting Jeffra and her friends win. It proved that they got to me. But I’ve been wondering if I’m completely and totally wrong. Do they win by being able to say these things to my face? Maybe Xander has the right mode of action. Because people at school suck. It’d be so much easier to just be at home.

Seriously, why is 10th grade such a fucking pain?

Luckily, Garrett and Jeffra leave me alone during the rest of the movie, but when Mr. Adams shuts it off, we’re given “free time” to try and sheathe our bananas.

I’m staring at the piece of fruit like it’s personally offended me.

Somewhere in a galaxy far, far away there are people who look like bananas—their heads are banana-shaped—and they all die in a fiery volcanic blaze when their planet implodes.

“Luna?” Garrett is leaning over and holding out his banana to me. “Luna? Help me? Please.” He sticks out his bottom lip and makes a mocking pout. It’s not funny or cute or sincere. It’s the kind of thing high school boys do to get attention and then make you the punchline of their joke. I don’t fall for it.

I just ignore him.

Eliot rocks back on the legs of his desk chair, so he can see past me. “I’ll help you with your banana, Garrett.”

Garrett cringes. “I didn’t ask you, Cobalt.”

“Yeah, but you seem to be having issues not being able to do it yourself,” Eliot says. “It’s simple for me, really. I’m practically proficient, and there’s no shame in being a beginner. It’s your first time, right?”

Students suddenly eagle-eye Garrett, and the blazing light of attention causes him to shrink.

“Fuck off,” he curses.

“Just offering my assistance,” Eliot says with a wry smile before leaning closer to me. Under his breath, he whispers, “Don’t listen to that prick.”

I’m trying not to.

I haven’t touched my banana or the condom. I’m terrified people are watching. Has my mom given me the safe sex talk? Of course.

Has she showed me a condom? Yes.

But that has nothing to do with her being a sex addict. She just wants me to be safe whenever I decide to start having sex. Maybe if I do it really, really fast no one will notice.

I try to speed run the assignment and rip open the condom with my teeth, grab the banana, and slide it on in point-two seconds. I succeed!

And then, I realize what I did wrong as the entire class bursts out laughing.

Oh no.

I put the condom on too well. Being successful at this task was not the right avenue, I guess.

I don’t look anywhere but my desk. Quickly, I’m uncapping the marker, sliding back the latex a bit to write my name on the peel and then I’m on my feet.

Mr. Adams doesn’t even see me approaching; he’s pointing at a student. “No phones in class! Bring it here, Lottie.”

Lottie Fontaine. Great. Another one of Jeffra’s friends.

“Eugenia, you too,” Mr. Adams says.

I can’t breathe. Setting the banana on the desk, I head towards the door. “Hey, hey,” Mr. Adams snaps at me. “Class isn’t over.”

Eliot and Tom are already out of their seats. I’m not listening. Not turning around, I’m leaving the classroom, and I hear Mr. Adams’ defeat as he huffs and grumbles, “You three.”

Outside the class, Tom jogs to keep up with me, but Eliot’s long legs easily maintain my quick power-walking pace. I’m basically fleeing the scene of the crime.

“I can’t believe I did that,” I say into a wince. “It seemed like the right thing to do in my head. Like push through the torture as quick as possible.” Images of everyone laughing play on repeat in my brain. My heart beats so fast it might as well fling out of my chest. I’m not embarrassed as much as I’m feeling like total shit for letting them get to me.

I should be stronger.

My mom was stronger.

“In any other circumstance, it probably would have worked,” Eliot tells me encouragingly.

Tom nods. “There was no winning that one.”

Eliot says, “Jeffra and Company were salivating over all the easy material they had at their fingertips. Condoms. Sex ed video. Mr. Adams might as well have played a softcore porn.”

Tom snorts. “I wish he did. Then they’d try to give us shit over Mom and Dad.”

“I’d like to see them try.” Confidence radiates off Eliot.

I am glad that no one shit on Tom and Eliot, even though I’m sure they both could handle it. I don’t like seeing anyone I love being targeted.

Tension still compounds on my chest as I push open the double doors. The cold chill of January hits me, and we stop at the curb. We always strategically skip out of this side door, since it doesn’t face the main student parking lot. Instead, we have a view of the baseball stadium.

“What does your new bodyguard think of skipping?” Eliot asks.

I shrug. “No clue. We haven’t talked about it.” I look around at the lifeless faculty parking lot. “I really haven’t spoken much to O’Malley since he became my full-time bodyguard in December.”

“He’s probably a rat,” Eliot says, checking our surroundings for the administration. Coast is clear. “He was on Beckett’s detail before you. I’d call Beckett to ask how O’Malley reacts to debauchery and mischief. But Beckett is a goodie-two-shoes. He’d never step a pinky toe out of line.”

“Maybe a toenail though,” Tom says into a snort.

Eliot smiles. “True, brother. Let’s give him that credit at least.”

I rock on my heels, and my phone buzzes in my pocket. My stomach drops to my knees. “You don’t think they posted a video online, do you?” I wonder.

Eliot and Tom share a look like they’re ready to grab battle axes and war hammers on my behalf. “Doesn’t Eugenia drive a white Jeep?” Eliot asks, ignoring my question. He steps off the curb and heads in the direction of the main parking lot.

“Pretty sure she does,” Tom says into a wide mischievous grin.

“Uh-uh,” I tell them, now having to jog to keep up. “We’re not retaliating. We don’t even know if she uploaded a video.” I’m trying to follow them and click into my notifications.

“We’re just going to do some reconnaissance in case she escalates,” Eliot assures me.

My palms sweat on my phone.

“It is innocent,” Tom assures. “I can’t get into any extra trouble. I’ll probably have detention this week from more than just skipping.”

Eliot stops in the middle of the sidewalk, the biggest parking lot nearby. “Do tell.” Intrigue glitters his eyes.

A gust of wind rolls through, and Tom runs a hand through his hair to fix the flyaway strands. “I may have blown off the condom assignment.”

“And?” Eliot asks, knowing there’s more.

“I drew a banana on the desk in Sharpie.”

Eliot laughs. “Brilliant.”

I shake my head, but I’m smiling too. “Maybe he won’t know it was you.”

Tom shrugs, indifferent about it. “Maybe. But I’m pretty sure the faculty have recognized my art style and handwriting.”

“Pretty sure they have a notebook of all three of our handwritings to cross examine them,” I say. We’ve vandalized plenty of things at school. If I didn’t loathe school so much, maybe I’d feel bad about it.

But I don’t.

We step into the main parking lot, and I ask, “Which plan are we going with when our bodyguards see us?” They’re usually parked in the middle section, and there’s a zero-point-zero chance they won’t spot us.

“You have a new bodyguard and I have a temp bodyguard today,” Tom says. “So we go with Plan H. We haven’t done that one in a while.”

I don’t ask why he has a temp bodyguard. That happens for a million reasons. Down to simply a 24/7 bodyguard needing a day off.

Eliot shakes his head. “Let’s do Plan K. It’ll be more fun. And I feel like having fun today, brother. Don’t you?”

Tom thinks on it for two seconds, then grins. “Totally,” he says.

They both stop at a crisp white Jeep just as I finally click into my Instagram notifications. Sure enough, Eugenia posted the video of me and the banana to her stories and I’ve been tagged.

My stomach sinks.

“Luna?” Tom’s rounding behind me to see my phone. Eliot’s peering into Eugenia's car, hands cupped at the window.

Tom touches my shoulder. “Do you want to call Uncle Garrison? He can probably hack her ass.”

“Or call our dad,” Eliot says, moving around to the back door window. “He’ll have the lawyers take it down.”

I sigh heavily, exhausted by all of this.

“I’ll do it,” Tom says, taking out his phone.

I refresh the video again to relive my torment for some reason, and then…it’s gone. “Wait,” I tell him. I refresh.

Nothing.

No stories.

“It’s gone,” I say, shocked.

Tom slowly pockets his phone. “She deleted it?”

“Maybe,” I say.

“Doubtful,” Eliot says. “More likely Mr. Adams saw and made her delete it.”

Tom nods in agreement. “Yeah, he made Emma Childers delete that photo of Eliot in PE last semester. Remember that?”

“Yeah, I remember,” I say. Emma snapped a pic of Eliot when he took off his shirt during dodgeball. He was scolded and told to put his T-shirt back on, then Mr. Adams confiscated Emma’s phone and deleted the photo.

“The teachers are scared of the Boogeyman coming down here and ripping apart their assholes,” Tom says.

The Boogeyman is my dad.

“EliotTomLuna!” Our names mush together as one. I’ve heard it a thousand times. “Back away from the car.”

Heidi Smith, Eliot’s full-time bodyguard, stands at a towering six-foot-three. The same height as Brienne of Tarth on Game of Thrones. Her resemblance ends there though. Her brown hair is pinned up in a fancy braided bun, and she’s giving all of us a look like we’re out of our minds. Tom’s temp bodyguard and my new bodyguard are right behind her.

“What is going on?” she asks. “Why aren’t you in class? What are you doing with this car?” That last question is fully directed at Eliot.

He touches a hand to his chest. “Heidi, I’m going to be honest with you.”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “I’d like that.”

Eliot says, “This car belongs to a bitch.”

I snort.

She takes a readying breath. I’m surprised she hasn’t resigned yet, though Eliot isn’t as bad as Charlie. So he’s been told.

“Mom is going to kill you,” Tom warns Eliot in a whisper. Yeah, Aunt Rose doesn’t like her children slinging that word around like an insult. Even if it can be true sometimes.

“I don’t even want to know,” Heidi says, raising her hands. “Just get back to class.”

“Actually,” Tom says, “We can’t go back in.”

“Unfortunately,” I add.

“Regrettably,” Eliot says. “We all ate the tuna sandwiches my mother made me for lunch, and it’s not sitting well.”

“It’s an emergency,” I say into a vigorous nod. “I shouldn’t have taken a bite.”

Tom says, “It’s not our mom’s fault though because she’s never been a cook.”

Eliot adds, “But she’s trying to do more now that we’re in tenth grade and going to be gone in a couple years. So please don’t mention this to her.”

“Can you just drop us off at Superheroes & Scones?” I ask. “Bathrooms are in the loft.”

Heidi sighs heavily, then goes to whisper with the other bodyguards. There’s a slim chance they believe us, but even if they don’t, they can’t deny us in case we are sick from food poisoning.

Eliot and Tom wait casually, not worried at all.

I rock on my heels, wondering how much trouble I’d be in if I took out my vape pen.

Then Heidi looks back to us. “All right. Get in the car.”

Eliot, Tom, and I share a look like we’ve won. It’s a feeling I usually only get around them. Maybe this is what it’s like to be a Cobalt by Blood. Success is normal. Average. Failure is more out of reach.

I wouldn’t know though.

I’m just a Hale.

Thank you so much for reading this month's main bonus scene! It's a blast to the past in this bonus that takes place before Damaged Like Us. We're so excited to get to showcase more of the Troublemakers. These three have our hearts, and they will be back in all their mischievous action in Unlucky Like Us!

There's still more to come this month! Another bonus and both podcasts are on their way! Keep on the lookout :D

xoxo Krista & Becca

"Health Class," Copyright © 2023 by K.B. Ritchie