Everyone's a Catgirl! Side Quest: Just Be Yourself

Matt won May's Side Quest Poll! Please enjoy the chapter!

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Matt was always taught that being yourself was more important than anything. That, as he got older, there would be people who disagreed with you or disliked you for reasons outside of your control. As Mrs. Johnson had put it, to lie and pretend to be someone you weren’t was a dangerous road to living an unfulfilled life.

Matt lived by these words.

Mrs. Johnson grinned from ear to ear. “Very good, Matthew! I’m so proud of you!” 

Matt felt immense satisfaction at her praise. He’d studied his math long and hard for the last few weeks. It was tough, but the payoff was worth it. He breathed easy as he returned to his desk, and Mrs. Johnson quickly looked over the classroom, her index finger seeking out its next victim. “Taylor! Can you solve this equation?”

Taylor groaned as Matt took the seat next to him. They’d gotten along well initially, but lately, Taylor had grown distant. He didn’t like to share trading cards, talk about the next hit RPG coming out, or even crack jokes anymore. He wondered if he’d done anything wrong, but since Taylor wouldn’t tell him, he had no way of knowing.

The chair screeched as Taylor pushed it back, and he lazily stepped up to the board. He took the chalk into his hand and wrote out the words, “Bite me,” next to the equal sign.

Mrs. Johnson gasped. “Taylor, we don’t talk like that.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

She put her fists on her hips and frowned. “Detention. Now.”

Taylor clicked his tongue, tossed the piece of chalk over his shoulder, and left the classroom.

Mrs. Johnson erased the words and looked for another student to call upon.

I’ll try talking to him again later.

When lunchtime came around, Taylor was already waiting at their usual table. He had his chin perched on his palm, a sour expression twisting his lips. Something was wrong.

“Hey, Taylor,” Matt said, taking the seat beside him. He put his tray down as Taylor bitterly took a bite out of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich. 

“Hey,” Taylor said, eyeing Matt’s pizza sticks. The most popular meal of Tuesday, they were in limited supply. This caused some upset on occasion, as usually only the first two classrooms who arrived at the cafeteria would be lucky enough to get them. Thankfully, with how well he and some of his classmates had been performing lately, Mrs. Johnson saw it fit for them to come to the cafeteria a little earlier than usual. “When did you become such a nerd?”

“W-what?” Matt stammered. “I’m not a nerd!”

Taylor scoffed. “Yeah you are. All you need are some glasses and you’d make a good four-eyes.”

Matt frowned. “Dude, what’s your problem? I’m just as cool as you are.”

“Fifth graders don’t have to tell people they’re cool. You’re so cringe lately.” Before Matt could protest, Taylor snatched up one of his pizza sticks and popped one end into his mouth.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“What are you going to do about it, nerd?”

Matt balled his hands into fists. “Give it back!”

Taylor snickered and dragged his tongue over what remained of the pizza stick before plopping it onto Matt’s tray. “There you go.” He continued to chuckle as he returned to his sandwich.

Taylor could ignore him and call him a nerd. But the moment he took his pizza stick, it was war. 

Matt knitted his brow, then shoved Taylor to the floor. His sandwich flew into the air, landing in some kid’s hair behind him. 

Taylor jumped to his feet, gritting his teeth in fury. “You’re going to regret that, nerd!” he cried as he tackled Matt to the ground.

Good. Matt was ready for a fight.

Matt raised his arms to block Taylor’s incoming punches. At first, they stung like hell, but with each additional strike, Matt’s temper grew, and alongside it, his willingness to continue fighting. He saw his opportunity when Taylor revved up a particularly big punch, and then Matt veered to the side. 

Taylor’s fist made contact with the floor.

“Oh God!” Taylor yelped, pulling back and cradling his hand.

Matt was barely paying attention, focusing instead on kneeing Taylor in the groin. A gasp escaped his former friend’s lips, and Matt shoved him back. 

Matt’s blood boiled. He was ready to keep going. He rose to his feet while the kids around them chanted, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Matt pumped his arm, emboldened by their chant.

That was, until the teachers arrived. Mrs. Johnson gasped as she parted the crowd of rowdy children, looking at Taylor and then at Matt. “Matthew Kelmer! What are you doing to Taylor?”

Matt blinked. All of the gusto he’d felt, all that rage and excitement…it was gone. His shoulders slumped, and his courage deflated. “I-I-I, well, that is, I, uh—”

“I’m sending both of you to the principal’s office after the nurse has a look at you.”

“Why me?” Taylor cried. “He hurt me!”

“No discussion! Come with me!”

After some help with getting off the floor from Mrs. Johnson and Mr. Erikson, Taylor stumbled his way over to Matt, and the two were escorted to the nurse’s office. The nurse, Ms. Takahashi, was a beautiful woman in her early twenties. She was kind and gentle, but she never minced words. Matt didn’t see her often, but each time he did, she found a way to set him straight.

“Boys will be boys,” the nurse sighed as she examined Taylor’s hand. “You’re going home early. I need to contact your parents.”

“No! Don’t!” Taylor pleaded. “Anything but that! I won’t do it again, I promise!”

“You have fractures. This needs to be looked at by a doctor immediately.” She shook her head. “It’s a wonder you’re in as little pain as you are.”

Taylor bowed his head and let the matter settle as Ms. Takahashi picked up the phone and dialed the number for Taylor’s parents. After a brief conversation, she put the phone back on the hook and cradled his hand. “Your dad is on his way. I told him everything.”

Taylor averted his gaze and took one of the beds in the back.

“You’re next, Kelmer,” the nurse said, beckoning him over. Matt took the seat next to the island at the center of the room and avoided looking her in the eye. “Pull up your sleeves.”

Matt did as he was told, rolling his sleeves up just how his dad taught him. Welts and spots covered his forearms, and the nurse clicked her tongue. “Is it bad?” he asked.

“Well, it is going to bruise. It’s not going to look pretty tomorrow, but you’ll be okay.” She stood up and strolled over to the fridge at the back of the room. Moments later, he procured a couple of ice packs and returned with the packs extended. “Make sure to keep your arms iced. It’ll help the swelling go down and take away some of the pain.”

“Thanks, Ms. Takahashi,” Matt groaned.

The nurse sighed and crossed one lengthy leg over her knee. She sighed and said something, but Matt found himself oddly entranced by her posture for reasons he couldn’t explain. He shook the thought away, bringing his attention back to the beautiful lilt of her voice and the sparkle in her eyes.

“I’ll be better,” Matt said.

“Good. Now, get to the principal’s office.”

Matt nodded and hopped out of the chair. Taylor was softly weeping. Perhaps the pain had finally gotten to him.

Good. I hope it hurts!

—

Taylor hadn’t come back to school in almost a week. Mrs. Johnson had made it clear that he was still in recovery and that he would return to class soon.

The next Wednesday, Taylor returned during study hour. Though, not at all as Matt had remembered. He’d shaven his head and gotten a piercing in the lobe of his left ear. It was a diamond stud that caught the ceiling lights like a gnat to a bug zapper. His eyes were more sunken, and heavy bags colored his sockets.

He looks so tired.

Taylor took the spot next to Matt, passing him barely more than a glance. Matt ignored him and continued to focus on the love letter that he’d been writing to a girl he recently crushed on. Her name was Chenoa—a tall girl in the sixth grade who loved to play sports with the boys and was highly competitive. It was the first time Matt had written something so sappy and corny that his cheeks burned with every word he spilled onto the page.

“What are you working on?” Taylor asked suddenly.

Matt threw his hands over the paper and slid it over the side of the desk to hide it. “N-nothing! Mind your own business!”

“Matthew?” Mrs. Johnson warned. “Inside voice.”

“Sorry, Mrs. Johnson.”

“Is it to a girl?” Taylor asked after a pause. Matt cocked a brow and crumpled one side of the paper over so that he could hide it and continue to work. “I can help you out if you want.”

Matt hesitated. After Taylor’s drastic transformation and their last encounter being the biggest fight of his life, he couldn’t imagine Taylor had any good intentions behind his words. Still, though, he liked to pretend that they were still friends from time to time, and Taylor’s absence did worry him.

“It is. But I don’t need your help.”

Taylor shrugged. “Suit yourself. Who’s it to?”

Matt drew a deep breath. “Chenoa. But don’t tell anyone.”

“I won’t.”

During lunchtime, Matt slipped the love letter into Chenoa’s desk. His heart pounded against his chest, and he worried someone might see him. Seeing that no one else was in the room, he left the classroom and prayed for success when school let out.

“It’s going to be fine, it’s going to be fine, it’s going to be fine,” Matt murmured to himself. 

He could barely concentrate. Math problems that he could regularly do in his sleep were suddenly impossible. Instead, at the front of his mind, was Chenoa. Her laugh, the grin she wore when she played keep-away with a basketball, that salute-wink she did whenever she outplayed someone. She was striking. Beauty itself.

“I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid.”

Surely, by now, she had read it and given herself time to think about its contents. Matt had prepared himself—no, psyched himself—to be rejected. His dad had said as much throughout his life that men were chasers and women were choosers. But Matt liked to believe that his dad was wrong about Chenoa. She wasn’t like the other girls. She understood the boys and played with them! If there was anyone that understood him, it would be her!

The bell rang. The last bell. The bell of his death. The bell that would determine the fate of his childhood. Nay, his whole life.

Now that the moment had come, Matt found himself paralyzed, glued to his seat. While his classmates eagerly picked up their backpacks and collected their school supplies, Matt bounced on the balls of his feet to release the tension he felt. After a time, Mrs. Johnson’s concerned expression brought him to stand, and he offered her a curt nod before shouldering his backpack onto both arms—one arm was supposedly cooler, but he wanted to be himself—and exited the classroom.

His breath caught when he saw Chenoa waiting for him in the hallway, her arms crossed and a brow cocked.

“H-hi,” Matt managed.

“What is this?” she asked, flapping his note. “Some kinda joke?”

“H-huh? Joke? I don’t—”

“First of all, this is kinda creepy, not gonna lie.” She pulled the paper taut and began to read it aloud in both hands. “Your eyes are as voluptuous as the moon, your gaze piercing and as alluring as cocoa. As the light hits your skin, I wonder what it would feel like to touch.” She folded it. “Dude. This is creepy as heck.”

Matt’s heart sank. “O-oh. W-well, it was a joke. Haha! You know, a joke.”

“Yeah, I know a joke. This doesn’t read like a joke. There’s three pages here.”

Matt swallowed. “S-sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“What makes you think I’d ever go out with a nerd, anyway? Bro, I got standards, and,” she chuckled, “you definitely don’t meet them.”

Matt frowned. Why did she call him a nerd? To his knowledge, no one except those in his class knew how well he was performing. He’d especially taken pride in his knowledge of math and science, and here she was degrading him for it.

“It’s also kinda weird that you slipped in one of your math sheets.” Chenoa plucked a page from the back and turned it around. It was the sheet he’d gotten back on Monday. “100%” was written across the top in a bright red pen alongside a smiley sticker that Mrs. Johnson had stuck to it. “This is really cringe.”

Matt hadn’t slipped that sheet in there. “W-well, it was—”

“A joke, yeah. Got that, thanks. Here,” she said, handing him the stack of papers. “No offense, but you are totally not my type.” She sounded as if she was trying hard not to laugh. “Probably not anyone’s type, honestly. You gotta work on that. Yeah. Gotta work on that because right now, you ain’t it.”

Chenoa turned around and briskly walked away.

“...Thanks.”

“Tough luck, Matthew,” a voice said from behind him. Matt turned around to see Taylor. “That’s my bad. Thought she’d like a nerd, so I slipped that in for you.” He patted him on the shoulder. “Maybe next time, huh?”

Taylor’s words repeated themselves over and over again in Matt’s head.

After a couple of minutes standing there, he readjusted his backpack so it hung over one shoulder, then continued down the hallway in the opposite direction. He tossed the love letter and his math sheet into the trash can on his way out to meet his mom. She waved at him from inside the car, and Matt waved back.

He carefully shut the door as he got into the back, throwing his backpack onto the seat beside him.

“So, my darling baby, Matthew. How was school today?” his mother asked.

“Not Matthew. Just Matt, please.”