"Logan, hey."
A cheerleader stops me in the hallway after the first session.
"Thanks, I hear you took the blame for yesterday." I smile all worked up about how much of that story she had heard. Why can't pony just shut up?
"I can lick it in the BT if you want." Some other random girl says behind me and they giggle.
"What?" I exclaim not understanding her statement or hoping she didn't mean what I thought she did.
She's too close to my neck, I stumble to stay on my feet.
"What are you doing! Get off me!" She pulls back when I almost shout those words.
"I thought you only accepted dirty thank yous. I was going to make sure you sure feel thanked." She chews awkwardly and twists a strand of hair.
"What is a BT and... Who.. Who said I want that?" I feel disgusted just by the thought that a BT might be a bathtub and she could mean exactly what I'm thinking.
She turns to her side in frustration and I spot Mason at the edge of a locker with the school bullies smiling at me.
"Son of a..." I exclaim, wanting to just punch his pretty face for pulling that stupid shit. I push the cheerleader to get off my collars which she was already holding and stomp towards Mason.
"Thank you pretty face." A group of girls chuckle as I walk past them.
Some are scrambling to hold my chest and I feel the sudden urge to button up.
"You are so hot." One squeals when I hold her hand to get it off my chest.
"So sexy." Just yet another thirst trap and I am not half way through the hallway.
Why is she holding her boobs? Girls are weird, daaang! How are there these many needy girls in this school?
"What the hell?"I shove through a couple of guys and storm up to Mason.
"What hell?"He doesn't even look at me, just shrugs, unbothered, and turns back to laugh with his new crew, those idiots slobbering over the drama.
"What is this about, Charity?"
I make sure to say the name with bite. I'm boiling now. What the hell is he trying to prove?
He stops chuckling.
"Did you hear that?" he announces, loud enough for the hallway to catch it."That right there is the bullshit I will no longer take from you, my friend. Just because your father—"
"Don't f* with me!"I cut him off, voice sharp, loud.
He actually stops. Looks at me. For a beat.
Then:
"You listen to me, rich punk. Those streets you live in? They don't know shit about us. You think we're supposed to curtsy when you walk by just 'cause your old man owns—"
I feel it in my gut that he's about to cross a line I can't let him cross.
"Don't. Please." My voice dips, almost pleading. I don't even know why.
He laughs.
But it's not Mason's laugh. Not the Mason I knew. This is something mean.
"Why? You scared they'll find out you're a little bitch? Just 'cause your daddy owns Pokeme? He mocks me with a twisted grin.
"No? Okay."
He moves into the center of the hallway like he's on stage.
"I will not tell anyone that your father owns the school, that is why you are here, because no school will accept you. Even his other schools threw you out right?" He says out loud.
I didn't like him but now I'm beginning to hate his guts. I try to react but I'm all numb, mostly in disbelief.
"Come on guys, let's leave him to waste away what we pay." He turns to face me and spits. He's too far for it to hit but it might as well have.
It throws me off the edge. I knew dad should not have brought him home. Now he is out here ruining my life.
"I think he dresses older than he is to please his daddy." I hear one whisper and they keep growing louder by minute.
"You think he should be in highschool?" Another says right as they walk past me.
"No, he looks twenty for real. I knew all that muscle was too real." Yet another comment.
Some whisper in Swahili.
I don't understand it, not exactly but I know it's Swahili.
I've heard it enough times to recognize the rhythm. Even learned a little. Still, I can't tell what they're saying.
But I don't need to.
Something snaps.
I scream—raw and loud—and slam my fist into the nearest locker.
Again. And again.
Even when my wrist starts bleeding. Even when the dent deepens, and the skin around my knuckles splits wide open.
Sweat streams down my forehead and my neck. My jaw is clenched so tight it hurts.
Hands grab me. Left, right, voices shouting something but I can't see them.
I don't even recognize the voices asking me to calm down.
I came to this school to escape and apparently that's over for me now. I am yet again a joke! I was focusing my anger on the damn locker and they pulled me off it so my head is all over the place. I try to calm down and focus a little now that I needed to see where I was going and stop staggering.
"I can walk." I snap and rid my hands of them. It was Rick and Blake and I know they were taking me to the boys changing room so I walk quicker and let them try to catch up.
"Get the f*** out!" I scream at a junior I find at the sink. "You all get the f*** out!" I yell and punch the mirror. The sensation of shattering glass gives me something to focus on.
Running water off my head seemed like a better idea compared to watching shirtless boys rush off the door. I hear the door slam and don't even bother to look up.
A soft hand grazes my temple.
I jolt. Hard.
A thud. A cry. I turn sharply.
She is on the floor.
"What are you doing here?" I question.
"You're not even going to start with 'sorry'?" she mumbles, one hand cradling her head, the other trying to push herself up. "You fell on the glass I shattered even while you were trying to help?"
"Ow..." She winces in pain.
I notice when she tries to pull a piece of glass from just above her left hip.I hesitate just for a second.But I can't keep watching her face twist in pain.
I rush over, help her onto the bench near the lockers, and carefully remove the shard.Then I take off my white floral shirt, the one Dad always said made me look "softer" and press it gently against the wound.
"Hold it there."
She nods through her stifled cries, a faint smile flickering through the pain.
I hurry over to the wall-mounted first aid kit. Bandages. Antiseptic. Tape. My hands move on instinct now.
When I'm done dressing the wound, I sit beside her on the bench and for a while both of us quiet.
Just breathing and, bleeding, trying to take in the events of that day. I must have started the day with the wrong foot or maybe the whole damn road has always been crooked from the start.
"Rye." She says softly.
"Nope, rye free. I prefer it rye free especially if it's after a fatty white meat meal, you know like with agave?" I look at her and she is confused.
"Like tequila?" I try to clarify and she gets it so she lets out a muffled laugh.
"No you fool. That is my name. Rye!" Her chuckles become louder.
"Oh." I say in realization then join her to laugh until she winces and clutches her left side.
"What are you doing here? Where are Rick and Blake, they were with me." I search her face for answers and she wears a sad expression.
"I asked them to let me speak to you... Because... I don't think Mason knew and I kinda told him." She chews on her tongue, waiting for my reaction. "Honestly, I thought he already knew so it would not make any difference." She adds.
"Why would you?" I ask anyway. Not yelling. Just... tired.
" I honestly thought he knew. He stays with you. How can he not know that?" She is uneasy and her tone keeps changing as she speaks.
Then she adds, "he is not this person. Something must be wrong with him."
That last statement gets me. She thinks he's good and something just happened that's why he switched? That it's justifiable?
"Are you defending your boyfriend right now?" My anger starts to rise.
"No I'm not. I'm sorry okay?... And about that.." She raises her voice to match mine.
"Get out Raul." I don't know why I called her that. Maybe I just didn't want to hear her try to make Mason sound like some misunderstood saint.
"If you would just listen! Mason is not my-"she tries to say.
"Get the f*** out!" I shove her injured side by the arm off the bench. She squeals and I let go.
"Fine!" She yanks at her clothes.
"What is wrong with you? I don't even get why you so worked up about him owning the school" She glares. "and don't call me Raul! What an idiot!" She slams the door behind her and it's all silent again.
I sit back on the bench, my head between my hands facing down, trying to think. I do not want to meet what's beyond that door. That Raul girl can go to hell, I don't even feel a pinch of guilt for that. I almost believe it.