mind realized I was about to throw my first punch at another human being in anger.
And then Brad pulled me out of the way.
Kelly stumbled past where I was, his fist passing through where I had just been standing. Now it was Brad holding me back as I fought to follow up on Kelly. “Knock it off,” Brad said in my ear. “Five-0!”
I had no idea what he was saying until I saw Mr. Adler moving through the crowd in the quad like a shark through a school of minnows. I stopped fighting with Brad as he got closer. Kelly got his bearings and looked over at me with a look that resembled an angry bull. “You’re fucking dead, queer!” he screamed as he hurled himself at me.
“ Aimes! ” Alder screamed, stopping the jock in midstride. His head whipped around and he stared at the man like he was a mirage for a moment. “What is going on here?”
Kelly looked to Brad and me and then back to Adler. “He… I mean….”
Mr. Adler leveled a stare at me. “I thought we’d talked about this?
I pointed at Kelly. “He just took a swing at me and called me a queer and you’re looking at me?”
He took a step closer to me and said, “You’re not making this easy on me, Mr. Stilleno.”
I fought back the urge to laugh. “Am I supposed to be?”
“He pushed me first!” Kelly fired back, sounding like a five-year-old.
“Is this true?” Adler asked me.
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “I give up.” I shrugged Brad’s hands off me and grabbed my backpack.
“Going somewhere?” Adler asked.
I looked at Brad, who wouldn’t meet my gaze. I sighed and said to Mr. Adler, “According to you, I’m going to hell if I don’t change my ways.”
I expected him to brush it off, to just ignore the verbal jab and to push on. Instead he said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Not according to me, according to the Bible.”
I felt my mouth sag open in disbelief.
“Perhaps you should go home for today,” he said after the laughter from the quad had died down. “We obviously have things to sort out.”
I pushed past him and ignored the leering faces of the people I passed on my way off campus. I knew Brad wasn’t following me, and at this point, I didn’t care.
I was alone again.
I know, I know! That line is so emo I should have black eyeliner on while I listen to Paramore on my iPod, but it was how I felt. It wasn’t fair; I had spent my entire life preparing for a life lived in solitary confinement, and though I hated it, I was at least ready. I had stockpiled more than enough emotional supplies to prepare myself for the winter of my discontent.
Oh God, I think I am emo.
Anyway, I had a bomb shelter’s worth of self-pity and platitudes stashed in the depths of my consciousness like a paranoid shut-in waiting for the inevitable zombie outbreak to occur. Sad songs and digital copies of The Notebook stockpiled in my own Waco-style…. Okay, I’ll stop with the weird metaphors.
To sum up, I had been ready for a life lived with Healthy Choice meals and cats until Brad crashed into me like Paris Hilton after a long night of appletinis and cosmos. Dammit, okay, last metaphor, promise. I walked into my house and froze because there was something deadly wrong with the living room.
It was clean.
Well, maybe not clean to you, but for our place, this was clean. The drapes were open, which meant the room was exposed to actual sunlight, a rarity unto itself. The beer and weed table, what normal people called the coffee table, was clear of all debris, and it looked like it had been wiped down recently. All those signs could mean only one thing.
She was sober.
“Kyle?” she asked, coming around the corner, a bottle of glass cleaner in her hand. When she saw me standing at the door, she said, “What are you doing home?”
Great, just great.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, making a beeline to my room, not even close to being ready to deal with a cognizant mom.
“What about school?” she asked
And then Brad pulled me out of the way.
Kelly stumbled past where I was, his fist passing through where I had just been standing. Now it was Brad holding me back as I fought to follow up on Kelly. “Knock it off,” Brad said in my ear. “Five-0!”
I had no idea what he was saying until I saw Mr. Adler moving through the crowd in the quad like a shark through a school of minnows. I stopped fighting with Brad as he got closer. Kelly got his bearings and looked over at me with a look that resembled an angry bull. “You’re fucking dead, queer!” he screamed as he hurled himself at me.
“ Aimes! ” Alder screamed, stopping the jock in midstride. His head whipped around and he stared at the man like he was a mirage for a moment. “What is going on here?”
Kelly looked to Brad and me and then back to Adler. “He… I mean….”
Mr. Adler leveled a stare at me. “I thought we’d talked about this?
I pointed at Kelly. “He just took a swing at me and called me a queer and you’re looking at me?”
He took a step closer to me and said, “You’re not making this easy on me, Mr. Stilleno.”
I fought back the urge to laugh. “Am I supposed to be?”
“He pushed me first!” Kelly fired back, sounding like a five-year-old.
“Is this true?” Adler asked me.
I threw my hands up in exasperation. “I give up.” I shrugged Brad’s hands off me and grabbed my backpack.
“Going somewhere?” Adler asked.
I looked at Brad, who wouldn’t meet my gaze. I sighed and said to Mr. Adler, “According to you, I’m going to hell if I don’t change my ways.”
I expected him to brush it off, to just ignore the verbal jab and to push on. Instead he said loud enough for everyone to hear, “Not according to me, according to the Bible.”
I felt my mouth sag open in disbelief.
“Perhaps you should go home for today,” he said after the laughter from the quad had died down. “We obviously have things to sort out.”
I pushed past him and ignored the leering faces of the people I passed on my way off campus. I knew Brad wasn’t following me, and at this point, I didn’t care.
I was alone again.
I know, I know! That line is so emo I should have black eyeliner on while I listen to Paramore on my iPod, but it was how I felt. It wasn’t fair; I had spent my entire life preparing for a life lived in solitary confinement, and though I hated it, I was at least ready. I had stockpiled more than enough emotional supplies to prepare myself for the winter of my discontent.
Oh God, I think I am emo.
Anyway, I had a bomb shelter’s worth of self-pity and platitudes stashed in the depths of my consciousness like a paranoid shut-in waiting for the inevitable zombie outbreak to occur. Sad songs and digital copies of The Notebook stockpiled in my own Waco-style…. Okay, I’ll stop with the weird metaphors.
To sum up, I had been ready for a life lived with Healthy Choice meals and cats until Brad crashed into me like Paris Hilton after a long night of appletinis and cosmos. Dammit, okay, last metaphor, promise. I walked into my house and froze because there was something deadly wrong with the living room.
It was clean.
Well, maybe not clean to you, but for our place, this was clean. The drapes were open, which meant the room was exposed to actual sunlight, a rarity unto itself. The beer and weed table, what normal people called the coffee table, was clear of all debris, and it looked like it had been wiped down recently. All those signs could mean only one thing.
She was sober.
“Kyle?” she asked, coming around the corner, a bottle of glass cleaner in her hand. When she saw me standing at the door, she said, “What are you doing home?”
Great, just great.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, making a beeline to my room, not even close to being ready to deal with a cognizant mom.
“What about school?” she asked
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