Nothing in This World Can Be Endured Forever

After missing two days of school, Bill walked into class with his eyes cast down and his hair hiding his face. Limping through the door, his face burned as he felt everyone’s eyes upon him. He lowered his head further, trying to hide the evidence the best he could. He took his seat carefully, gripping the edge of his desk tightly and hid the pain. Once sitting, Bill let out the breath he’d been holding before intaking another sharply.

Sitting a short ways from him, Tom’s eyes widened and his nose scrunched up in slight disgust. Bill sat hunched over himself, a pale hand pressed to his side that clenched the fabric of his shirt every time he coughed. A few other students across the room loudly announced Bill’s lack of hygiene. Tom couldn’t help but agree with the majority of the class as he turned away from the boy.

“Bill, I need you to say after class for a moment today,” Mr. Jung frowned, disregarding how late the boy had walked in. He proceeded handing out the review packets, as if the disruption never happened. “This is a review of what we’ve done last semester and what we’ll be going over next. Before you ask, yes you can work in groups, as long as you’re not just using the time for socialization.”

Mr. Jung made his way around the room, making it to Bill last and pulled up a chair in front of his desk. He spoke quieter when the rest of the class began chatting to one another. Placing a large hand on top of the packet, he said, “This is due Monday, but I’ll allow some extra time for you to get caught up. I’d recommend that we set up some time for you to stay after since you seem to be struggling a bit, okay?”

Bill nodded. His face was on fire and he was sure that his teacher would be suspicious if he looked up. He couldn’t blow it now.

“Tom? Can you explain to Bill what he’s missed?”

Tom hesitated before he nodded, gathering his things and moving over to sit near the two.

“Thank you. I’ve got to go to the office and make more copies, so I trust that you can fill him in, yes?” Mr. Jung stood and left the room.

Bill kept his eyes trained on the table in front of him, hoping that Tom would just leave him be. He didn’t need help. Subconsciously, Bill moved away from Tom, drawing into himself after a round of wet coughs. The preteen knew he smelled, it wasn’t something he was ignorant of, but that didn’t stop the humiliated heat to rise and pulse.

Bill closed his eyes, concentrating on his breathing, counting each shallow intake as he tried to maintain a slow rhythm. Bill listened to Tom list all of the work he’d missed and felt as if he was drowning already, and this was just his first class! Tom wrote down the page numbers for the short stories he was to read and then answer the corresponding questions from the packet.

The rest of the hour was spent in silence between the two as Bill halfheartedly opened his book. By the end of the hour, Bill felt like the stupidest person on the planet. He’d spend the majority of the hour trying to read one of the stories from the book. It was slow and frustrating, as reading usually was for him, and when Tom had asked if he needed any help, Bill shook his head furiously and flipped the page, hoping that he would be able to understand something on that page.

Tom watched as Bill spent the hour reading the same page. He wondered how someone at his age could be having so much trouble with something so easy. Everyone else had been done reading that story by the end of the hour.

Bill remained behind as the rest of the class left for gym. He was about to stand when Mr. Jung came over and pulled a chair up so he was sitting in front of the boy. Catching his breath after a particular rough batch of coughing, Bill lowered his head even further, hiding his face behind his hair.

“Bill,” Mr. Jung heaved a great sigh, running his hand through his hair, trying to think of the appropriate way to approach the subject. “Your classmates have been… commenting on your hygiene.”

Bill instantly turned red, closing his eyes in shame.

“I know it’s not my place to be telling you this, and I probably should discuss this with your parents,” Mr. Jung paused, frowning as Bill instantly looked up at him with wide eyes. The man’s eyes widened at the state of the boy’s face. “What happened!?”

Panicking, Bill looked away, wrapping his arms around himself. “Got into fight,” he mumbled the excuse quickly.

“With who?” the teacher questioned, brows furrowing as he studied Bill’s reaction.

“My-“ Bill paused, backtracking with what his initial response would be. “My brother. It was an accident.”

It was always an accident. Bill had to make sure they knew that. Every time.

Mr. Jung hummed, his arms crossed over his chest, not entirely believing the boys rushed response. “Well, I just wanted to, uhh, remind you that you are a growing boy and that you should be showering every day…” he trailed off awkwardly. Never in his career did he have to confront a student about their hygiene.

Bill nodded, averting his eyes in shame.

“Also, just so you know, I am here after school everyday, until about seven usually. If you want some help with your class work, feel free to stay after. I know your struggling a bit, so maybe some extra time going over the material will help you better understand it.” Mr. Jung offered, a sympathetic smile coming to his face.

Bill nodded, mumbling his thanks.

“Run off now. You don’t want to be late for your next lesson!”

The rest of the day was proving to be just as bad as Bill had expected it to be. By lunch, every one of his teachers had asked about his injuries (to which he gave the same excuse), he’d been pushed into the showers after gym, soaking half of his clothes before he was able to escape, and was given an impromptu swirly before lunch.

Sputtering over the toilet, Bill pushed his wet hair out of his face. He craned his neck to see the four boys who’d dragged him into the bathroom laughing and jeering with each other as they left. Feeling worse than the scum at the bottom of a shoe, Bill slumped beside the toilet, defeated. His body ached and Bill was sure he’d be crawling home if the day progressed the way it had so far.

Heaving himself off the floor, Bill closed his eyes and leaned against the stall wall in pain. His teeth clenched, Bill took a shallow breath and grimaced. He pressed a hand to his ribs and winced from how tender and swollen the area was.

After several long moments, he rinsed his hair and face in the sink and attempted to dry off with paper towel. With his hair pulled back from his face, Bill was shocked at his reflection. His right eye was nearly black with a fresh cut underneath the bruise. His lip was split open, fresh blood slowly forming on the swollen skin.

His hand slowly raised the stale fabric of his shirt, exposing his battered skin. His eyes took in himself in the mirror and began to water. He was hideous, bruised and scarred, and it was his own fault.

He was worthless.

The bathroom door opened. Bill gasped and instantly let go of his shirt and snapped his head to the side as a boy rushed in and leaned against the door with a large sigh. Bill wrapped his arms around himself, putting a hand to his ribs, grimacing from the pain and letting another round of wet coughs out.

Tom let his shoulders slump, relieved to be in a safe spot for a brief moment. Tom recognized Bill quickly and moved from the door with a hesitant smile. He was confused, and cautious, because of the way Bill had been acting in class, around him especially, given who he was.

“Hey!”

Bill quirked the corners of his lips at the boy, moving away.

“Are you hiding out in here?” Tom asked, approaching the sink and turning the tap on. He ran his hands underneath the stream for a bit, looking at Bill through the mirror. Bill shrugged weakly. “Oh.” Tom turned off the tap and dried his hands. Bill observed, uncertain of the strange boys’ intentions. He looked a lot like the other boys.

“Well, do you wanna hide out together?”

Tom took Bill to his newly found spot to eat, the western stairwell. The stairwell was at the end of the hall that their class’s lockers were in, tucked away in a little alcove beside a door that faced the fields behind the school. Tom had held the door to the stairwell open for Bill and ushered him in while looking around quickly. Tom let the door latch loudly as he climbed the stairs. The sound made Bill jump as it echoed through the space.

The stairwell was curved slightly, just so that once they’d climbed about ten steps up, Bill couldn’t easily see the door. The ceiling was unbelievably high and almost didn’t seem to exist as there were so many cross beams above them. Bill felt like he was on display with the high windows that lined the outer wall, coming to an end only a few steps away from where he was standing.

“Look,” Tom excitedly pointed out the window to the view of the slope down to the fields. “You can see everything from here. The fields, the track, the bus circle, if you climb up a bit and kinda look at an angle.”

Bill tried to crane his neck to see, but he couldn’t. Tom continued to ramble, filling the silence as Bill stared out the window with a blank look. “Usually the others join me, but I kinda lost them earlier. It’s nice here though; nobody seems to use this stairwell.”

Tom climbed up a few steps high than Bill and sat, watching him with curiosity. The dreadlocked boy opened his lunch bag, peering in at the contents. “Ew!” he exclaimed. “Ma gave me carrots again.”

Bill glanced at Tom in envy. He watched, trying to calm his rumbling stomach as Tom took out his lunch and laid it out on the step beside him. Tom had a sandwich of some kind, a bag of various vegetable, a small bowl of fruit and a bottle of water.

Tom looked up at Bill once he’d unloaded his lunch. His brows furrowed in confusion at Bill ogling his lunch, but shrugged it off and smiled.

“Ma’s on this health kick.” Tom explained. “It blows!”

Bill looked away, unsure on how to respond. To him, it looked like something worthy of a Christmas feast. He coughed raggedly again, this time red staining his shirt and leaving an awful taste in his mouth. Tom looked on worriedly, but didn’t comment.

“Where’s your lunch?” Tom innocently asked, more to fill the silence. He sure hated how quiet Bill was.

Bill sat down, keeping his gaze on the snow blowing around outside, trying to mentally calculate how long he’d be outside shoveling that night. “I... uh,” he cleared his throat painfully. “Don’t have.”

“A lunch? Did you leave it at home?” Tom questioned as he opened the water and took a long swig.

Bill shrugged, trying to brush off the subject. He didn’t eat unless food was given to him by Jörg. It wasn’t that Jörg had ever truly said the rule outright, but it sort of became the norm for Jörg to dictate when he ate, at school included.

But he often defied the silent rule by stealing from the pantry or other kids’ lunches when his head would start to spin. He’d become aware of his limits long ago, shortly after the hunger became as common as breathing was.

Tom felt bad when Bill’s stomach growled audibly. He looked down at his sandwich, crudely tore it in half and held the slightly larger half out for Bill. He gave the other boy a reassuring smile. “Go ahead. I can share.”

His face heating up, Bill took the offering, very thankful for the boys’ kindness. His mouth watered uncontrollably as he took a bite. His portion was gone shortly thereafter. Although he’d barely tasted it, the sandwich was probably the most delicious thing he’d ever eaten. It had also left his stomach turning unpleasantly, but he still craved more.

Tom watched the back of Bill’s head as he ate, curious about the boy. How was it that they were so different from each other?

“What happened?”

Bill visibly tensed. The question caught him off guard. He stayed silent. Had he done something to give himself away? No, that couldn’t be. He was too careful. But then why would Tom ask, like the teachers had all day? Had he overlooked something vital that blew the cover?

No, Bill thoughts after thinking back through the day and the past week. He was sure there weren’t any mishaps. He’d made sure his clothes covered the bruises at all times, and he’d hid his face all day to the best of his ability. He’d even explained that he’d gotten into a fight. That made sense, right?

“Your face,” Tom clarified, shaking the panicked boy from his thoughts. “And your side. You keep holding your side whenever you cough, which that doesn’t sound good, by the way. You should get it checked out before it gets worse.”

Bill almost laughed at the thought. Him? Go to a doctor? Ha!

“My brother,” the pre-teen recited, more confidently that he could explain.

“Your… brother?” Tom’s eyebrows rose in disbelief. Bill had yet to turn and face him.

“We fight,” Bill kept his gaze out the window, his shoulders still tense. Brothers fought, right? That’s what the other boys in class said, at least. The snow continued falling; the sky was getting darker as more clouds rolled in.

“What’d you do?” Tom chuckled. “Just stand there and take it?”

Bill did respond. In a sense, yes he did. Fighting back only ended up with more hurt than it was ever worth.