It's the second week of school, not even a full week yet, and he's already gotten into a fight.
They break the fight up and catch the one who started it, the asshole freshman who decided this was a good idea. I can see him with the rent-a-cop twice his size headed back to the nearest office, but I'm focusing on my friend wading through the crowd, making his way outside through the deserted hallway. Everybody else is still focused on the cops and the other kid, so they do not see him go. I know that if I follow him, the cops will see too, so I hang back and return to where I was before this started. One of the officers starts questioning me; I tell him it looks like the other guy started it, and his first name. My friend answers his last name, so I won't have to take full repsonsibility for ratting him out.
The cop leaves and I tell her I want to find him. She agrees. She's worried too.
We walk, then run to outside and stop at the junction, trying to figure out where he is. In typical James Dean tough guy fashion, he's leaning up against the faded white wall. He smiles when he sees us.
We ask if he's okay, and some administrators walk by with walkie-talkies. I say that we should move, so we walk to the other side of the building, where I figure we're safe for now.
None of us says much of anything. He pulls out a cigarette and we tell him not to smoke; he'll need to go back inside sooner or later. We ask him if he's okay, we touch him gently to offer reassurance and he doesn't push us away. Trouble finds him, he says, and the bell rings to go back inside. The girl that came with me leaves, because as worried as she is, she won't be late for anything if she can avoid it. He's happy that she came at all. They haven't spoken in two months.
Eventually, we walk back inside. People come out of the woodwork carrying his personal belongings, one girl picked up his lunch, one of my best friends had his backpack, the stoner boy we hang out with had his glasses. My friend is surprised so many people care about him.
The others leave and he says he's happy that he has so many people that came to his aid. Even people who claim to hate him.
He thanks me for everything; I wrap my arms around him and bury my face in his sweater.