Ezzy

It was a lengthened walk to the jail with no bars. It was dark, and if I could admit, a little frightening to be out this early in the morning. The sun hadn't even woke up yet, why should I have to?

Oh that's right, because people were so prejudice against me. It wasn't my fault, it wasn't my choice. I got told every day that I was stupid and worthless. Not to disclude my friends, who had to put up with so much shit for being seen with me. You'd think people would get over it, but when you're the only person who's out of the closet at a biased school, it's difficult.

There were kids who didn't know me who hated me. They see someone gay. They think I'm worthless. It's like FAG is tattooed on my forehead. They want me gone, dead.

Teachers say I over-react, and to calm down. I'm calm, but that doesn't mean there's not pain behind it. I traced my thoughts back to Brad, the muscular, brick wall of an athlete the school could provide me with. I used to be scared of him, but now I didn't know what to think. He didn't supply me with the hostility and cruelty his friends did, and it made me slightly more content.

I arrived at the school a little after 6, and waited until the office staff got there. They always let me in early, and unlocked the big, heavy doors before me. It's modern times, yeah, you'd think it'd be so much different. I've never thought much of suicide, but it looked so much better than this.

Elliot was the second to come to school, carrying his metal Superman lunchbox and the latest edition of a Mac packed firmly into a slick, black, leather case. “Hey,” he said, exhausted.

I didn't say hello, but greeted him with my presence. As I walked alongside Elliot, we finally reached our point of destination, the art room. He insisted this was the best place of the school because he could hack into the business across the street's WiFi, instead of the school's which had blocks on nearly every website. He pulled his glasses up off the bridge of his nose and closer to his pair of blue-gray eyes. “You won't believe what I got this morning,” I told him.

“An STD from your girlfriend?” he asked. He was joking, but I hit him with no remorse.

“No,” I said, moving on, accepting the fact that I didn't have a girlfriend and probably never would. “A message from Brad.”

He turned his attention away from his sophisticated computer and focused on me. His eyes were wide, but his pupils dialated. I hoped he wasn't high or something, with a lost glaze in his eyes. I didn't ask, but I just nodded. “What'd it say?” he wondered.

“He likes me. He thinks I'm cool and stuff,” I said scratching at the engraved graffiti on the art tables. “And he said he hoped none of his friends hurt me.” Elliot placed his hand on my left one, I thought for support, but then he scratched me violently. “Ow! You douche!” I cried out in pain. “What the Hell was that for? Ow!” I retracted my hand to my mouth, sucking on my injury although it wasn't bleeding.

Elliot sat there with satisfaction that he had hurt me and then spoke, “We don't need them.”

“Yeah, but I do need a hand... Ignorant douche,” I muttered, agitated he had wounded me.

Elliot was the type of person that you so badly wished you could revive. He was the coolest person until his dad died. He lost all of his creativity and filled his empty void with the newest technology. I had attempted before to find the old Elliot, but it was no use. It was like pumping blood out of a dry heart. I still liked Elliot, don't get me wrong, it's just like knowing what you're missing out on. I'd rather not know. “You realize you can't tell anyone, right?” he said.

“Well, duh,” I agreed. It was true, Brad and I couldn't associate at school, he'd get shit for it and I'd probably get a black eye. For both of our sanities, it'd be best if we didn't acknowledge each others existence in school. “You smell good,” I told him.

“Chocolate Axe,” he said.

Not before long, Alan and Nana came in chanting their anthem, a few lines from the movie Billy Madison. I never got into that movie, but Jack sure liked it a lot. After them, Chop walked in with Roe. Jack never showed up to school. Elliot had forced the 'Brad Words' out of me to everyone, and that's now what it was called. The message was now called the 'Brad Words' capitalized and everything, they treated it like a sacred passage of the bible. Each of them “ooed” and “aahed” at all the right points. I sure wished Jack would have been there he would have got a kick out of it all.

*

“Hey, why weren't you attending Hell today?” I asked Jack over the phone. His voice was in a shaky whisper.

“I can't talk to you right now,” he said with a rickety promise. “I just can't.”