Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Bobby Gibbs

"Jonesy!" The voice called out of the stuttering, cluttered hum of student voices. Although nobody ever calls me "Jonesy," the voice caught my attention.

I turned from my narrow locker filled with textbooks, notebooks, and pictures of my heroes - people like Einstein and Kepler, and looked for the student whose voice had called my name.

Gibbs. Tall, rugged, wearing his blue and yellow football letter jacket, with a cheerleader hanging on each of his arms. He extricated one of the arms and waved at me.

My friend Ethan, who has the locker next to mine, stared at the waving jock. "Got a new friend, Jonesy?" he said.

"Not likely," I said. "Last time Bobby Gibbs noticed me I ended up locked inside my locker for half-an-hour."

With that thought in mind, I slammed my locker shut, and Ethan quickly followed suit.

Gibbs was now heading in our direction, and I couldn't see any way of avoiding him without looking like I was avoiding him, so I stood my ground. Ethan deserted me with a wave and an apologetic shrug.

"Hey, Jonesy," Gibbs said, giving me a hard slap on the back.

I said nothing.

"S'matter, Jonesy?"

"Nothin'," I said.

"Oh, I get it. You're still mad about last week. Look, I'm sorry about that. It was just a joke, you know? We didn't mean anything by it. It's like they say - you only tease the people you like, see?"

I shrugged. "Huh," I said.

"So, no hard feelings?" He put his arm around my back and over my shoulder.

"No hard feelings," I said.

"Great. So listen, I've got a favor to ask. I hear you're pretty good at science."

Not only am I pretty good at science, I'm also not very modest. "I'm the best."

"I have this paper I have to write for my biology class. It was due last week, and if I don't get it in by tomorrow, I'm off the team."

As he talked, Bobby Gibbs was leading me down the hallway. I was very much aware of the stares I was receiving. People who had never noticed me before were wondering, Who is this kid Bobby the halfback is hanging out with?

"So," I said, feeling a bit important, "You want some help writing your paper?" I envisioned the two of us sitting together in study hall, or in the cafeteria, working on his paper while everyone walked by and stared at the geek and the jock working together.

"No, not exactly. I've got practice this afternoon, so I don't have time to write it. I was hoping..." He paused, then said, "I was hoping you'd do it for me."

I stared. "You want me to cheat for you?"

"Not cheat, exactly. Just help me out a bit. I tell you what. I'll give you something in return."

"What?"

"I don't know. What do you want?"

In a moment of sudden clarity, I pictured the girls on Bobby's arms earlier. "Introduce me to Tessa Gilbert," I said, surprising myself with my audacity.

"Woah, kid," Bobby said, pausing to give me a sly wink as we walked down the hall. "You fly high, don't you? Alright. Deal. You write my paper, and you get to meet Tessa."

I grinned. "Deal. So, what's the paper about?"

"I told you. Biology."

"Well, sure," I said, "but that's a big subject. What part of Biology?"

"Uh, the Excretory System."

"The Excretory System?" I repeated.

"Yeah. You know? The ol' one-two?" He chuckled, then said, "Maybe you need to do a little up-close study?"

That was when I realized, too late, that he'd led me down the hallway and into the boys' bathroom - too late to avoid being grabbed by two more jocks, who tipped me upside down and suspended me headfirst over the toilet.

Together the jocks began chanting, "Swir-lee! Swir-lee!"

"Wait!" Bobby Gibbs called, laughing, "Let me get my camera ready! Tessa's gonna want proof of this one!"

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