Poor Boy

Jason had been working at the school for months now, trying to earn some money. His mother had recently lost her job, and his allowance had halted to a stop. He had no other means to make money, so working at the school it was.

He went to school at Brixton High, and because it was a small town, everyone knew everyone, a few of his classmates knew that he was poor and had to work at the school. 

The other boys liked to punish him, especially the members of the football team. One day, they had walked in on him cleaning the locker room and picking up after them, and since then, they had made his life a living hell.

“Yo Jason,” they would yell at lunchtime, “eat up, so you have enough energy for later.” Some would make the cleaning gestures, and although it flustered him and made him really uncomfortable, he would not react. 

Sometimes the quarterback himself made his life a living hell. Among his responsibilities were to clean the lockers, sweep and mop the hallways, clean up the lunch area and the locker rooms.

On occasion, he would also be sent to clean the gym too, for some extra money, and since he really needed the money, he would happily accept, texting his mother that he would be late.

He was not a part of the football team, so he did not know their schedule, but he could usually tell from the way they came into the locker rooms and their conversations during the day.

Because they knew it was his job, the quarterback, Russ, would ensure that the lockers were dirty. He would play pranks on his teammates with sand and glitter, and even after Jason had tried to talk to him about it, he would continue.

“I don't owe you anything, poor boy,” he would say, and then it would usually be followed by Russ intentionally spreading some dirt on the lockers, or ‘accidentally’ spilling something on the floor.

Russ would also push him around on the lunch queue, and when food would spill, he would say, “better pick that up. Or are you saving it for clean-up later?”

It would sting, but he would not be able to retort, because Russ was right; he was poor, and he did clean the school for some cash. It wouldn't hurt to not be reminded of it though.

It was on one of those days that he made a startling discovery. 

The gym was hosting the cheerleaders, so football practice was going on in the fields outside. While he waited, he had a snack and did his homework. 

Just as he finished, he went into the boys' locker room and saw that the boys had been there. They were done with practice, and since it was the weekend, they would not be back till perhaps, Monday. 

That calmed Jason down, knowing that they would soon be gone, so he made the least noise possible, waiting so that they would be halfway gone before he started to clean. 

Russ and his friends were among the last to leave, and right before they left, they threw a stinking mass at him. Because he was not prepared for the hit, he fell to the ground, and they pasted dollar bills on his head.

Crouching, Russ said, “Hey loser, you're looking for some extra cash, right? Pick these off your face and wash them up for us, okay? Be a good boy.”

After delivering that line, he got up, and laughing, they left the locker room, and he pushed off the dirty ball and picked up the dollar bills. 

He was gagging from the smell, but he knew that if he retched on the locker room floor, it would be his job to clean it up. Whatever they had thrown in his face STANK! 

He pushed off the bundle from his face, and saw that in total, they had left him $50 on his forehead, and while he knew he should be insulted, he was thankful for the morning.

As for the pile of clothes, he scrunched up his nose while he picked them off the floor, and he untangled them from each other. When he had managed to split them apart, he lifted one up to his nose and realized that it was a pair of their dirty socks. 

Looking through the rest of the pile, he realized they were the exact same thing, and the entire ball that had been lobbed at his face was just a bunch of their dirty socks.

No wonder it stank so much, he thought, putting them into the washer that was in the locker room. 

Over the next hour, he did his job, picking up the dirty things of the football players. He put their shoes into the shelves, closed their lockers, opened up their sportswear to air out and groaned as he did so.

“Why would you even bring your dirty clothes from other places to the locker room?! God!” he complained, picking up a pair of jeans. They looked like they were streaked with mud, and they also smelled of pee.

He added them to the pile of dirty clothes that he was due to wash and went ahead to put them in. Admiring his progress, he began to whistle a song, and then he went ahead to clean the girls' locker room.

The cheerleaders had left some time ago, and although it was messy, it was not too messy. He did the minor cleaning and out their clothes into the dryer for them, that way, when they came on Monday, they would have dry, fresh clothes.

He remembered that he was still washing some clothes in the boys' locker room, so he went in there to take them out and into the washer. He had already cleaned up everywhere else, the lockers and hallways, and it was pretty late.

That was why he did not expect to hear or see anyone else, but boy, was he in for a surprise. He heard the noise of something falling to the floor, and startled, he looked in the direction that it had come from.

It was the bathroom in the locker room, and confused, he made his way there, the pile of clothes in his hand. He had been too shocked to put them into the washer, so now he held onto them, a broom in his hand.

As he got closer, he heard the sounds of a woman's moans, and he wondered what woman would come into the locker room that smelled so bad to have sex. 

The sound seemed familiar the closer he got, and he wondered why, holding onto the stick in his hand even harder. He could not tell if the sounds were from pleasure or pain, but he wanted to know.

If it was pleasure, he could leave the couple alone, but if she was in pain, he could rescue her from whatever was wrong. He hoped he could fight off whoever was there and he was not just interrupting a couple's fun time.

Gripping onto the handle of the bathroom, he pulled it open and his jaw dropped open.