i dont know ah
“Reasons. You know.”
I tried to tell him that no, I didn’t know, but he changed the subject.
After maths I was meant to have a free period. I thought me and Gerard could talk some more in the bathroom but he said he had to go to art.
I cocked my head to one side. “Art? You do… art?”
He shrugged, picking his stranded bag up with one hand. “I like art.”
“The best art I ever did was drawing stick men.” I told him. Surprisingly, he laughed some more and opened the bathroom door. He waved as the door closed, and laughed again.
Gerard seems to like laughing.
I sit back on the marble floor and pull out another cigarette.
Does this mean… I have a... friend?
Today’s been a good day so far. And I hardly ever have “good days”. And you know why today’s been good? Because I got an invite to a party, and I made my first friend.
I can hear a group of people outside. I keep on smoking, ignoring them. It’s rare to hear someone outside this bathroom. It’s like the most deserted corridor ever, with only a few store rooms down here.
This bathroom is like the social reject bathroom. Only really unpopular kids come here. That means, only me.
The door opens. A buff, tall boy stands in the door. He looks at me sitting on the floor, surrounded by dirt and mess from my bag and water. I mean I think that’s water. It’s probably piss. Yeah, its piss.
A few more boys walk in. They push the first one at the way and are about to walk to the mirrors when they suddenly remember to look down and nearly step on me. If I’m short compared to them normally, I can’t begin to imagine how small I must look now.
“The fuck you doing here?” One of them asks. He leans against the sink and crosses his arms.
I lift my cigarette up, trying to not look intimidating by them. Inside, my heart is beating the fastest it probably ever has, and my palms are beginning to sweat. I hate being around people, especially tall boys that probably play rugby and want to use me as the next ball.
The first boy to walk in kicks my bag. Some books fall out. He picks one up, with his fingertips, and reads the name.
“Iero. You’re that weird boy aren’t you? The one everyone hates.” He throws my book back down. It lands in the piss. Great.
I shrug, pretending not to care.
“Get out, weedy boy.” I look up at them again, trying to change my face so it looks like I’m totally not freaking out right now. Even if I was going to succumb and move, my legs would probably give way. I really hate being around people. And I know it sounds stupid, or weak, but rugby players scare the crap out of me. In fact, any boy who doesn’t like me scares the crap out of me. Other kids used to chase me round the playground after school when I was younger. I say kids but I just mean other guys. The girls just watch and laugh. I guess I get on with girls better than boys, mainly cause they have the same body strength as I do and are therefore not likely to be able to beat me up. Or want to, actually. Girls are kinda more… humble towards other people.
“I’m not leaving. I’m happy here.” I tell them, forcing a fake intimidating smile. Well I think it looks intimidating. I hope so, otherwise I’m just gonna look like a douche.
They come and crowd around me. Oh god, I feel so venerable down here on the floor. There are 6 boys in total, and at this very moment they are all glaring at me, some laughing, trying to mock me.
“Oi, faggot, get the fuck out before we get you ourselves.” One of kicks my bag, and I hear something crunch. Great, probably nothing but my iPod I’ve had for years, you know, one I can’t replace cause I have no money.
“What you gonna do, have an orgy?”
This really infuriated them, which just scared me further.
One of them fucking roars, not kidding, and another widens his eyes and goes bright red. I guess he really did want an orgy.
This one guy, who’s got mud all up his trousers, walks towards me, slowly. With one, clenched fist, he reaches down and grabs the front of my shirt.
“Say that again, you piece of shit!” He pulls the shirt and I scramble up to my feet, cigarette now discarded on the floor. He thrusts me against a stall and puts his face centimeters from mine.
Shit shit shit.
Everyone else is moving towards us too. They keep pumping their fists together.
There’s a sudden burst of pain on my side and I look down to see someone has punched me. Another blow to my head, leaving my eye sight blurry and my hearing near nothing proves that the boys have decided to beat me up.
There’s sort of a series of loud noises and I’m getting punched everywhere and there’s no way I could possibly defend myself against these people. There’s, what 9 of them? 9 against 1. 9 fucking rugby players against one boy who’s never been in a fight before. That can’t be fucking fair.
I decide to voice my opinion. Maybe they will change their mind and stop beating my head in.
“This ain’t fair! One against –“. I get kicked in the stomach and sink to the floor again.
“What you saying?”
I don’t reply. I’m too busy getting my insides kicked out of me.
“WHAT DID YOU SAY?” The pain suddenly stops and I look up to see one of the boys inches away from my face. He’s gone red from the kicking and he looks like he’s about to rip me apart with his fingernails. He probably could, actually. But let’s not test that theory.
“I said it’s not fair. 9 against 1. At least give me a chance to fight back.” I try to sit up, pretending nothing hurts. I pull another cigarette from my pocket and light it. My fingers shake. One of them punches me in the nose and I feel blood dripping down into my mouth. I wipe it off and inhale the smoke. My lungs are gonna shrivel up by the age of 20 at this rate, but whatever; I look pretty bad ass.
They leave. I sit on the floor a while longer, staring at the cracks in the wall and the dirt and bugs and blood mixing with the piss. I throw the cigarette away even though there’s still half left. I feel what I had eaten for breakfast coming up and puke in a toilet. Ok, my good day has just gotten worse.
I pull my phone out of my discarded bag on the floor and catch my refection in the mirror. Blood is dried around my nose and mouth and there’s a bruise where my head hit the floor. Lifting my shirt up I see that I’ve got more bruises coming on up my back and left side. Great. That’s just great.
I can’t be fucked with this day anymore. It wasn’t even lunch yet. Usually I ditch at least after lunch, but fuck it. I’ve only got English and history and double ICT left today. Ok, I’ve got some English coursework to hand in that was due weeks ago and the history teacher is going to give us some important work to help prepare for the exam at the end of the year and I’m already failing ICT and need to get my act together but fuck it. Just fuck it. My face is messed up and I can’t be arsed to deal with the comments and laughing and whatever.
So I bend down to try to amend my books and bag and see if my iPod is, in fact broken, and then leave. I grab a jumper from my bag and pull the hood up over my face. A couple of teachers try to stop me leaving but I just flip them off and walk out. I’m not going home, not yet. I don’t wanna go there either. I guess I’ll just go sit in a café and not be able to eat anything cause I have no money or sit in a park and kick some ducks. Yeah, I think I’ll kick some ducks.