Belvin's face was waiting for old age. He was in our grade, so he was the same age as us, I guess. He wore the same t-shirts as us and rode the bus and took tests and everything. But it was his face - it didn't look right. It looked like it was waiting for wrinkles. He walked with a stoop, his eyes were sunken in, and he talked with a quiver.
Belvin wasn't in any clubs, didn't play any sports. He got out of class in the afternoons to help the janitor. The janitor had jowels and big droopy lips and when he talked it was hard to understand. Local legend said he was missing a toe from the mythical snapping turtle that lived in the pond between our grade school and the high school. In the afternoons, after lunch, you could see him walking past the doors of the classrooms with Belvin behind him, pushing a pushbroom or carrying big bags of trash. Belvin would come back to class shortly before the afternoon bell, smelling of garbage or cleansers. This gave him the name Smelvin Belvin. He told us to shut up, and argued that he didn't smell, but that's a hard thing to contest. It was truth, not just a rumor.
Rumor was Skylar, the girl famous at our school for losing a frozen hot dog inside of her while masturbating. Rumor was Doug, suspended mysteriously and said to have been caught having sex with an outdoor water faucet. Truth was this: Smelvin Belvin stank like trash.