Skin and Bones

I go home after that. I tell my mom I’m not feeling good and go to my room. Hopefully she won’t force me to eat anything. I don’t feel like eating. At all. I know why Gerard touched me. He wanted to beat me. He wanted to tell me how disgusting and fat and unattractive I was. I am. I am all those things. He doesn’t need to tell me. I just have to look in a mirror to see that.

I lie down on my bed and bury my head in my pillow. Why do I even bother? Why do I ever get out of bed? Isn’t school for socializing and developing and preparing you for life? It’s supposed to form you for what’s ahead. Well if my future is having Gerard – the guy I…love – laugh at me and mock me and beat me up, then why even bother going to school?
Oh. Right…

First day of school: first real friend.
William Beckett has an older sister who goes to this school, so he can bully whoever without getting his ass kicked. His older sister is a cheerleader, so she knows the football team. From day one, we all know to keep our fists away from William Beckett.
Yet I still wanna punch him in the face for calling me fat.
This is where my first real friend came into the picture.
“I don’t think you’re fat.” I turn around to face a tall, skinny kid with glasses.
“My brother used to be fatter than you.” I smile up at him. He smiles back and scratches his cheek where his brown hair tickles.

“I’m Frank,” I say and hold my hand out for him to take. He looks down at it for a second, before he shrugs and puts his hand in mine.

“I’m Mikey.”

And that’s one thing I really don’t get. If Gerard used to be fat – and even fatter than me, according to Mikey – then why is he teasing me? Why is he mocking me when he used to be like me? Why doesn’t he like me?

I know. I know. Rhetorical question.
He’s not gay. And I am. And somehow he’s figured out. Even though I’ve never told anyone. Not even Mikey. Not even my mom.

Not even my own reflection.

And on top of my gayness, then obviously he’s also disgusted by my voice. Every time I talk, I can see the look in his eyes. Sometimes I can even see him shiver, as if my voice is a pair of nails against a dry blackboard.

And maybe it isn’t my weigh that disgusts him. Maybe it’s my greasy, brown hair. Or the way my huge eyes are bulging out of my scull. Or my uneven eyebrows. Or my nose. My lips are barely even there. I always have a zit somewhere on my face – big or small, it’s always there!

I should stay away from him. I shouldn’t eat lunch with him anymore. I shouldn’t let him drive me around. I shouldn’t force him to be around me.