Falling Apart For You

“Dude, your hand.”
“Yeah?”
“What happened to it?”
“Punched a mirror.”
He chuckles and turns to our other football playmate. “You know how Collin is with his anger.”
My football buddies were starting to be okay with me. I’m not going over the line and saying that we’re friends again, but they kind of accept me. We’re like acquaintances, sort of.
I mean if someone has a hand that’s wrapped with bandage tape, it’s likely that everyone will get curious, and someone will have the guts to ask me about it. Since it’s the fresh gossip around here, not only did I hear that I punched a mirror, but I also heard that I punched a girl for flirting with my (non-existing) boyfriend, that I got into a fight with my dad about my sexuality and I punched him, and that I punched a boy I like for not accepting a date with me.
The imagination these teenagers have, it’s quite incredible. They should put it to good use and smash their faces into a five inch thick, metal wall, painted with shiny rainbow colours. Yeah, I’m so not gay. And I have no idea what distorting their faces have to do with their imagination for good use. It’ll just satisfy me if they do me that favour.
During lunch, Jamie catches up with me in the hallway. He calls out my name but I ignore him.
“Collin, slow down!” Oh yeah, I didn’t just ignore him, I also tried to run away. It helps that I’m not holding a lunch tray with food and Jamie is.
And then I hear a splat along with a cold feeling at the back of my head.
I pause and my hand reaches behind me. I feel gooey slime. Definitely slime. I see my fingers covered with red slime. Red jiggly slime. Its Jello, isn’t it? It’s today’s special on the schools lunch menu.
I turn around to see the culprit of this Jello throwing to my head. It’s Jamie.
I would’ve never thought Jamie had the guts to do something like that. But it probably comes with his hatred for me. I’m the only one he hates, therefore, the only one he’d do that too. But then there’s Sara’s boyfriend, but that’s another story.
“Fucking dipshit.” I curse under my breath.
Last night, I decided that I would refuse to talk to Jamie. No talking means no insults, no unwanted opinions, no wanted opinion, no pain, no crush, nothing. Just plain silence. He said it himself; I don’t want to hear insults from him, I don’t talk to him in any way. And so I listen.
“Sorry about that, but you didn’t hear me call your name!”
No, jackass, I heard you perfectly clear. I was hoping you’d take the hint and leave me alone. But apparently you didn’t take that hint since you’re still here.
I don’t say it out loud. That contradicts the whole purpose of the silent treatment. So instead, I pretend he can hear my mind, and I walk away hoping he did hear my mind. Well only the parts I want him to hear.
“Collin!” He manages to grab my arm. I roll my eyes and turn to him.
I’ll hear him out, but I won’t respond.
“What was yesterday about? I mean on the phone. You went quiet, then I hear a crash and the line goes dead?” He looks down at my hand then back up at me. “Does it have something to do with your hand?”
“No, my dad just drove me to insanity and I punched him.” I lie. Aw dang, I broke the silent treatment. Curse my stupid big mouth and my lack of motivation.
“Oh.” His face mixes up into sympathy. “Do you need a place to stay? I still have that temporary bed ready for you.”
Did he really believe me?
Seriously, anyone who knows my dad and me knows that I would never in my life punch my dad. Not only does he have better, stronger punches, but he also has complete control over my funds. If quitting football or getting a boyfriend doesn’t strip me from my college funds, a punch to my dad will.
“No, I’ll just stay at someone else’s place.” I begin to turn away when Jamie’s hand stops me.
“It’s okay, you can stay at my place.”
“Nah, that’s too risky for you.” I say, heavily with sarcasm. “I mean people might think you’re gay and all. Wouldn’t want that, now would we?”
“I’m just trying to be nice, okay?” he grumbles.
I look at him and dryly laugh. “By letting me in, picking fights with me between every word we speak to each other, then kicking me out?”
“Can I make up for that by letting you stay again?”
This just tires me to no end. No wonder people say it’s bad to lie, because it’s horrible to keep that lie continuing on. Especially if the person is nagging you about something you don’t want to do merely because of said lie.
“Okay, I lied. I actually punched a boy for not agreeing to go out with me. I did picture his face as yours before landing one on him. Does that answer satisfy your question now?”
“It’s the mirror one, isn’t it?”
“What?”
He shakes his head slowly and scrunches his eyebrows, looking down at his shoes, or the floor. Whichever, they’re both on the ground. “When I was on the phone with you last night, that shattering noise was you punching a mirror, right?”
“And what if it was?”
“Was it because of me?” I say nothing so he continues. “I mean you were perfectly fine at first, joking about things, but then you got mad while you were talking to me.”
“And?”
“I didn’t mean it when I said that you can’t tell me stuff or that I would judge you for it.”
“Hard to believe that.”
“Was that–” He nods his head to my bloody bandaged knuckles. “–my fault?”
“Who cares?” I shrug and start to walk away. Jamie doesn’t follow me.
......
In the boys’ locker room, I change out of our gym uniform while all guys joke around about crap. I ignore them as usual, only pausing and contributing slight comments to their supposedly funny jokes. The guys allowed me to change in the same room as them, and I joke about how none of them are my type. Some laughed nervously, as if I was lying. Others were defensively offended, jokingly accusing me of not having good taste in men because they are –and I quote– “irresistibly gorgeous”.
Of course this brings up the topic of me and my lover. I don’t have one, but the same rumour about me and Jamie are still circulating the school. It died down a little, so I felt no need to bring it up again, confirming whether or not we are together. My gym class thinks otherwise.
Clay puts one foot up on the bench and proceeds to tie his shoes up. One of the guys named Brian –of whom I’ve never liked for the fact the he’s a jackass– goes up to Clay and starts dry-humping his ass. “I’m a flamboyant gay faggot, and I’m going to fucking rape Jamie!”
The locker room goes quiet and I can feels everyone’s eyes turn to me. I glance up at Brian with wide eyes glaring at him. I shoot up and hastily rush my way up to his face. “Say that again, Martinez. Say that fucking again!”
He smirks and turns away from Clay, facing me when an evil laugh slips out his big mouth. And I’m talking about those Muahahaha laughs when you choke at the end because the laugh kills your throat.
And because Brian didn’t choke after he laughed, I fucking made the bastard choke! I grab a hold of his neck and tighten my grip around it. His face turns red, yet the smirk never leaves his face. “Ooh, getting a little touchy, are we?”
I narrow my eyes at him, until I feel a punch to my stomach. I accidentally let go of his neck and crouch over as another he takes another hit at me. I ignore the pain and try to concentrate on punches Brian’s face out. My hand grabs his hair and shoves his head against one of the lockers. He groans which gives me more confidence to kick his sorry straight ass. My fist lands a hard blow to his eyes, nose, mouth, anything that I can damage with a good amount of strength without having to get him to a hospital. I limit myself to his face.
Suddenly, half my class is trying to pull me off of Brian. The teacher’s inspecting Brian’s state with worry. I didn’t even know the teacher was here or when he ever came in.
“He probably can’t even feel shit with your small dick.” Brian laughs and winces in pain.
“You know what, Martinez?!” My arms flex and I struggle to get out of other people’s hold on me, but they’re hands just tightened more. “Let’s see you feel nothing when I fucking rape your shit ass virgin hole!”
The teacher gives me a disappointed glare and starts to escort Brian out of the room. My eyes follow them, but my anger has somewhat calmed.
“Wow, that was a total asshole move.” Cody says. He’s also on the football team. I’m just glad he’s not disgusted with me anymore, unlike Brian.
I groan in annoyance and slump on the bench up against the wall. “I’m so going to get suspended. Shit.”
Cody sits beside and sympathetically frowns. “You shoulda controlled your anger, man. Brian could’ve just got suspended for talking about raping someone, but no, you just had to go beat the shit outta him, didn’t you?” He smiles.
I laugh and shove his shoulder. “I have anger problems, okay? It’s like a reflexive habit. It’s hard to get rid of and I don’t think before I beat someone.”
“I just feel sorry for your boyfriend having to deal with your abusive crap.” Phil chuckles as he rummages through his locker.
I stand up, a frown settling itself upon my face. “I’m not abusive, okay? I wouldn’t hurt someone I love, so just let it go.”
All the guys paused and turn to me with wide eyes. One of them gained the guts to speak. “You love Jamie?”
I shrug; tired of hearing how he’s my boyfriend when he’s not. “He’s not my fucking boyfriend, okay?! Get that through your thick, low-levelled head. Fuck!”
It goes quiet and I use the time to fumble through my locker, in search for any distraction. I would love to leave, but class ends in five minutes and if my teacher comes back to send me to the office and I’m not here, he’ll kill me.
“Do you like him?” I turn around and face Clay, the speaker. His face consists of worry, and awkwardness.
I ignore the question and turn back to my locker, grabbing important things. My suspension will probably be a few days, if not a week. I don’t want my uniforms and things to emit ghastly odour throughout the locker rooms, spreading through the school and killing everyone.
Not that I smell bad. It’s just that I like to play hard.
Sports.
In gym class.
Nothing sexual.
“Do you... uh, love him?”
How many hints do I have to give Clay in order to stop himself from getting killed? By me. Didn’t he just get a second-hand experience a few minutes ago with Brian? Does he have a death wish?
“Just let it go, Clay.” I slam my locker hard and walk out. Though I’m not stupid, I’m heading towards the office. I’ll probably meet Brian and my teacher there, unless they’re still in the infirmary.
Poor bastard should’ve seen it coming. I do have a reputation for my anger problems. Then again, Brian has a reputation for being the school’s asshole. I guess I should’ve seen it coming too.
I enter the office and face the secretary, Coutney. She’s nice to me, and we go on first-name basis here. I think she has favourites in the school and I’m one of them. Her auburn hair is tied into a tight ponytail, stretching out her face. If she tries, she could pull off being a student here. She looks young enough.
I once asked her how old she was. She laughed and asked me if I think she would seriously answer that. At least I tried.
“Honey, why are you here?” Her face blanks for a second. She chuckles and points her thumb behind her, towards the principal’s office. “You did that to Brian, didn’t you?”
I smile a guilty smile and shrug. “Deserved it.”
She laughs and hive-fives me. “Indeed he did.” My God, I love this woman.
“You’ll be suspended for sure. Probably for a week, but don’t take my word on it. Mrs. Macdonald can go easy or hard on you, depending on her day and whether she likes you or not.”
Yes, Macdonald is my principal’s last name. When she first started here two years ago, we kept asking her if she could give us free McDonalds for lunch. It was cruel to torture her likes that, but it was tempting at the same time. The jokes soon died over after a year. There were more interesting things than her name, anyways.
......
I walk out of the principal’s office with as much pride as I have left.
A week of suspension, and suspended from football until further notice is my punishment. Ah, Coach Hunter is going to freaking kill me! My dad’s going to kill me, too... right after he comes back from his trip to Australia.
I’m going to die and I didn’t even tell Jamie that I love him! Want to sex him up! Want to do unimaginable things on comfortable things with him!
Never mind. I hate him. It’s his fault in the first place.
Stupid anger problems!
.....
“Hey,”
My face is buried deep in the plush pillow on my bed, so I can’t see who dares speak to me at a horrible moment like this. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“It’s Jamie,” he responds. “And I came to drop of the homework you missed when you skipped class today.”
My head rises from the pillow and I raise an eyebrow at him. “You don’t even share any classes with me.”
“Yeah,” he shrugs indifferently. “but I know people who do go to your classes.”
I heavily sigh and dramatically drop my face into the pillow once again. I try to ask him why he’s doing all this for me, but it comes out all mumbled from the pillow, and Jamie asks to repeat what I just said. I lazily lift me head and turn to him, repeating my question.
He gives me another shrug and just leaves it at that.
I sigh and turn to face my ceiling. “I’m tired of your stupid bipolar crap.”
My head falls to the side and I watch Jamie fidget uncomfortably near my doorway. It seems as if he’s only comfortable being rude to me in his own home. Not at school or anywhere else for that matter. “You know, Jamie, that you’re only nice to me when we’re not in the comfort of your home?”
He doesn’t respond. Only shifts his gaze to me, staring at me as though he has no idea what I’m talking about. Let me elaborate for him, shall I? “You think that you can treat me like a piece of shit just because it’s your property I’m on? And when we’re anywhere else, you’re nice because its public property and you want to look like a nice person when other people see you?”
I realize that he’s only pretending to being nice to me so he can use it to gain polite-points from his peers. He used me. And it hurts again. The pain erupts from my chest and I just want Jamie to leave and let me sulk in my bedroom alone.
“I don’t treat you like a piece of shit, Collin. You’re overreacting.”
He’s in denial.
Either that or he’s unaware of his sadistic side.
I lie on my side and turn my back on him. I don’t need for him to see me so pained. He can taunt me about my crush on him, or me being gay, or treat me like shit, but he cannot see me be affected by it all. I won’t let him –or anyone else for that matter– see me so weak and useless.
“So why did you get suspended?” Of course by the end of the day everyone would know about it. See how fast rumours and gossip and spread about a once-popular-football-player-turned-gay? This shows how much people’s lives are boring so they resort to gossip about my event-filled life. Losers, they are. Such losers.
When I don’t answer Jamie’s question, he continues nervously. “I heard it’s ‘cause you beat the crap out of Brian Martinez.”
“So why?” I ask. “Why do you ask me a question that you already know the answer to?”
“You don’t have to be such an asshole to me. I’m trying, okay?” I could hear his voice shaking.
“Trying with what exactly? ‘Cause when it comes down to me, Jamie, you only try to make everything that much worse.”
“I’m trying to be your friend! That’s what I’m trying! Stop being so goddamn cruel to me. Do you know how much it hurts when you’re just bringing me down when you have no reason to?”
I sit up straight, turn around to face Jamie, and I stare at him in disbelief. “Do I know how much it hurts? Are you really fucking asking me that?”
Jamie backs away from my sudden outburst. I don’t blame him. Being at how I have anger issues, he might think I’ll punch him out. I won’t. But he doesn’t know that.
“Hey Jamie, when we first met, you insulted my sexuality, blamed me for being depressed over nothing when I have all the money in the world to cure me, and always take my rivalry’s side.” I use my fingers to visually count this. “You know I have a crush on you, kicked me out for rumours that I didn’t start, and you fucking think I have no idea how it feels to get nothing but hate from you, not knowing what the hell I did wrong?”
I feel tears brim my eyes and I have no intentions for Jamie to witness something as horrible as me crying because of him. “Fuck you, Jamie.”
I feel the lone tear slide down as Jamie slams the door to signal his angry departure. But you know what? I don’t care.
He has made me feel ten times worse more than once and this is just payback.