Jordan flipped through page after page, reading with unusual earnestness. His curiosity was piqued. The Charge of the Light Brigade was different from the battle of Thermopylae or even the last stand of Saigo at Shiroyama. Most of his class didn’t know about that, but Japanese history was a distant interest for him. He knew his dad was born in Japan, but that side of his heritage was severed. His mom didn’t like talking about it, so he didn’t pry. Instead, he focused on what was different, the reason he started reading about all of this. The Spartans died trying to halt an invasion. The samurai were killed to a man while defending their way of life.

But the Light Brigade were soldiers sent to their death by reckless officers. There was no glory in what they aimed to do, no great victory that could be claimed. Following orders, they rode to their deaths. It was the tragedy of duty, nothing more. To Jordan, it felt sickening. But the poem, the way it explained their fatal charge, was so wonderful. He didn’t understand. He wanted to.

One thing he learned was the name of the Light Brigade was more mundane than he had envisioned. In his head, he always imagined a group of cavalry riders with white suits, leading the charge across a hellish battlefield. The reality was a bit more disappointing. The name was very utilitarian. They were cavalry riders, but lightly equipped. They carried sabers and some rifles, but not much else. Supporting them was the Heavy Brigade, and so on.

Far from the gleaming, knightly image. His mind drifted. He didn’t want to be a soldier, he believed. He wouldn’t want to be a samurai, following the whims of some lord. He’d rather be a cowboy, an errant knight, fighting injustice as he saw fit. He knew that real life would come for him sooner than later, that he’d end up with some dead-in job or something of that ilk. But in his heart, he wanted more than that. He wanted to be a hero.

Frank tapped his arm. Jordan looked over to his friend who started signing. He wanted Jordan’s book. He blinked, pointing at the history book. Frank shook his head. Jordan thought about it a moment before realizing what he meant. Reaching into his bag, he retrieved ‘The Death of Superman’. Frank gave him a nod.

“Take care of it,” he said, passing it over. He treasured it, but Frank was more important.

With a thumbs up, Frank put it into his own bag. Frank wasn’t much of a comic reader that he knew of but maybe the earlier conversation made him curious. Jordan closed the history book with a snap, putting it away inside of his desk.

The bells rang, TJ groaning as he stretched. Gia grimaced at the sound of him popping his knuckles.

“That’s disgusting.”

“It feels good.”

“My daddy says that’s how you get arthritis.”

“Ah, that’s for old people,” TJ said. “Old people can get anything. They’re old.”

“That doesn’t make sense,” she said.

Jordan left the two to their bickering. Only thing he’d miss would be whatever comeback TJ could concoct. Probably ‘your face is lame’. They’d catch up. Frank was lagging, as he often did. He needed to collect notes from Mr. Alden for what he missed. That left Jordan to secure their place in the bus line so they could get their seats.

“Yo, Jo’,” a bright voice spoke up.

From behind two arms wrapped around his shoulders. Jordan flinched, breaking free and turning around. It was the blonde from this morning, Steph. Her bright green eyes positively glowed with mirth.

“Now you’re going to make a girl feel unwanted,” she grinned. “What’s the big idea?”

He didn’t know why he felt uneasy around her. “You’re too warm,” he said at last.

“Some guys like that,” she said. “Come on, ease up. I don’t bite,” she leaned in. “Unless you want me to.”

His face flushed but he fought the urge to push her away. Instead, he turned. “What do you want?”

“You?”

Jordan choked, his stride turning to a stumble. Looking back, she looked genuinely confused by his question.

“I thought that was obvious.”

Gia told him she was pretty. Maybe she was, he didn’t know. He didn’t care about that kind of thing. Somewhere deep inside he wondered if he ever would. All he could see were her eyes. Bright, full of life, alluring. They looked dangerous. Everything was telling him to run or fight. His muscles tensed, but for what he didn’t know.

“I’m not interested,” he said.

“Maybe not now, but when you get to know me,” she giggled. “I want to get close, you know?”

Curiosity burned in him. The rest of the hallway bled away, the noises of the school muting as his focus sharpened on Steph alone. Her hair was fair, full. Her clothes were light and breezy, trendy if Jordan had to guess. She wore bracelets and necklaces, but none of it, none of it compared to those eyes.

Her grin widened. “You’re going to make a girl blush.”

He frowned. Why didn’t he find her attractive? It wasn’t just her; he knew that. He’d seen some of the magazines that TJ snuck around. He had unrestricted access to TV. There was nothing there to him. No interest, no desire. He didn’t think it was that they were girls either. He didn’t have any reaction to men either. TJ said he was too young, but they were the same age.

It didn’t matter. “Do what you want,” he said.

“Hey, mongrel!” A deeper voice called out.

Jordan turned in time for a heavy backpack to slam into his chest, tossing him back against the lockers with a metal thwack. He bit a yell off, pain rushing through him. Groaning, he looked up to see a student two years above him. Devon Chambers. Broad shouldered, short red hair, wearing a black denim jacket, he was easily twice Jordan’s size.

Jordan remembered him because last year he gave Devon a black eye. In response he got some bruised ribs.

“How about you stop taking up space you little shit,” Chambers spat. “Was he bothering you, Steph? I swear, some people,” he was cut off by the bag being swung into the side of his head.

Jordan, breathing heavily, took some pleasure in the shout outraged pain from the larger boy. Chambers hit the ground hard, his backpack violently returned to him.

Steph laughed. “You were saying, Dev?”

“You fucking twerp!” Chambers was struggling to get up, his head clearly swimming from the blow.

Jordan threw off his own bag, getting ready for a fight. He had nothing to say to Chambers. If he wanted this, fine. Maybe he couldn’t win, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t back down.

“Arnaz, Chambers!” The sharp voice of a teacher came. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Dev dropped his bag so Jo’ gave it back to him,” Steph spoke up, stepping in between them. “Right?”

Chambers, face bright red, muttered something. “Yeah. Sure.”

Jordan, throat tense, nodded.

The teacher did not look convinced but was too exhausted to care. “Get going. Buses are leaving soon.”

Once the teacher was gone, Devon glared down at Jordan, well over a head taller. “We’re going to settle this half-breed.”

He did not waver. “Sure.”

The previous school year Chambers started talking about Jordan’s mom. They were visiting to register for classes. He didn’t even remember what was said. But it pissed him off enough that he punched Devon right in his smug, stupid face. He wasn’t even saying it to Jordan, just to some of his toadies.

Chambers stalked off. Jordan wanted to punch his stupid face again. Steph waited.

“You wondered why I said you were interesting,” she said.

No he didn’t. A dark cloud hung over him, so instead of replying he kept walking. He didn’t care what she thought. He didn’t care why she thought it. He didn’t care why Devon wanted to pick a fight. He felt a tide of anger swell in his chest. He wanted to hit something.

Either she didn’t follow him or broke off at some point, he wasn’t paying attention. Jordan greeted his friends who ended up ahead of him. They probably saw some of the scuffle but knew better than to stick around. His mood was all over his face.

“Hey, JoJo,” TJ called out. “Come on.”

Their bus arrived and they climbed aboard. Jordan realized he forgot his backpack on the ground. Groaning, the urge to shout was great. Whatever homework would have to be forgotten and he’d have to eat the grade. He kept it to himself. Didn’t need to worry his friends. He noticed that Steph wasn’t on the bus. She was strange.

He didn’t want to fight Chambers. He didn’t want to punch him that day. His body moved on its own, responding to his feelings. He wouldn’t apologize, either. If Chambers wanted to keep it going, Jordan would meet him the best he could. Glaring down at his hands, he wished he were stronger. He needed to start working out. If this was going to be his life, he needed to be able to handle it.

One by one his friends left. First TJ, complaining about a report they apparently had to do. Then Frank, who thanked Jordan again for the graphic novel. Gia moved beside him, staring. She brushed her hand on his shoulder. He fought the urge to jump.

“What?”

“You look upset.”

Jordan looked back at her. “You look worried.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you okay, dip-head?”

He tried to smile, but it didn’t feel convincing. “When aren’t I?” She stared at him, eliciting a laugh. “I’ll be fine. Don’t think about it.”

The two sat together for a time, the bus rolling and jerking along the road. If he was being honest, it was pleasant.

Her stop came. “You don’t have to take it all on yourself, you know?”

He looked away. It was easy to say that.

She bit her lip, looking like she wanted to say more. Finally, she stood. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yeah.”

They were gone. He was alone. Not for the first time, not for the last.