Falling Out of Line

The second I saw Lewis walk through those doors, I froze. I hadn't seen him since the hospital. It's not like I didn't try to see him. If I went to his house, the maid would just tell me that the family wasn't taking any visitors right now, and I never got an answer on his phone. Naran didn't seem to be any more filled in than I was. Still, Lewis's parents were a bit warmer to him. I guess it was because Naran was his best friend and they were used to him, but they shut me out completely. Did they know about what happened between me and Lewis? Did they hate me because Lewis hated me?

After what happened, I swore to myself that I would talk to Sean and Cory. They were concerned that I might be scarred after what I saw, and I had to tell them the truth. I was shaken. Last night, Cory asked me to help with dinner, so I went to cut the tomatoes. I found myself staring at the knife, and then everything was covered in blood - the knife, my hands, the table, everything, and I was screaming bloody murder. Next thing I know, Cory's shaking me, asking me what's wrong. I look down and everything's clean. There wasn't any blood anywhere. Cory's worried look followed my gaze down to my hands, the knife caught in my vice grip and the tomato smushed between my fingers. I didn't feel like eating dinner anymore.

At first, I was only seeing gore like that in my dreams, but now sometimes I just get lost in thought and then I end up having another freak out. I keep telling myself not to think about what I saw, not to think about Lewis in that state. But how could I possibly think of anything else...

...when my brain keeps telling me I almost killed him?

When Lewis stepped through the front doors of the school, all eyes fell on him. Loud chatter turned to silence, and then muted whispers. None of them really knew what happened, but they made assumptions; most were that he was too scared of Jordan and the other jocks. He tread lightly down the hallway, and as he grew near, I grew nervous.

I know it sounds selfish, but all I can think about after that day is what he thought about me. What would he say to me? What did he think of me? As messed up as it is to think, I just knew that Lewis did... that... to himself, and I was to blame. Lewis... he's my best friend. But I'm pretty sure that he hates me now.

More than anything, I wanted to tear my eyes off of him and stuff my head inside my locker until he disappeared, or even spontaneously melting into the floor would have worked. But I didn't, and I couldn't. I just... stared at him, just like everyone else was. And when he got to me, walking right past my locker, we locked eyes. I searched, stared him down for any sign that everything was going to be okay, that maybe that thing they say... "the eyes are the windows to the soul", maybe they're right and that I could see how he felt about me in them.

I didn't see anything. He kept walking. And now it felt like everyone was staring at me.

Now I really wish I could melt into the floor.

He disappeared into the main office, and then I didn't see him again for most of the day, not until lunch at least. When I walked through the doors to the cafeteria, I spotted him. He was walking with a lunch tray, being escorted through the cafeteria line by one of the guidance counselors. I decided waiting to get in line for food was a good idea, and opted to sit somewhere. I told myself to sit as far away as possible. Actually, my brain was suggesting Canada, but I somehow managed to sit at a table near the cashier at the end of the line.

I don't know why I was torturing myself, waiting expectantly for him to show up, look around for a place to sit, maybe glance in my direction and decide he didn't actually hate me and then we'd sit down and talk like nothing happened. I knew that wasn't going to happen, but that didn't stop me from watching the line anyway, waiting for Lewis to come near me. I think he saw me too. He didn't look nearly as eager to see me as I was to see him. I probably looked creepy just staring him down like that. As he got closer to the end of the line, he started to look a little squirrelly, like he was begging to get out of there. And then it hit me - it was because of me. Because I was so stupid to stare him down and make him feel like I was trapping him between me and the lunch line.

I turned and got up from my seat, this time looking anywhere but at him. I figured I'd just skip lunch, find my new favorite spot in the library to just lay my head down and try not to think. A desk sandwiched between two perpendicular bookshelves in the corner, a low hanging dim light, slightly wobbly wooden chair, and ancient carpeting - this was my new home.

I slung my bag off my shoulder onto the floor and plopped down in the seat in one fluid motion, my head resting in my arms instantly.

There was a lot of graffiti marked on this desk. Some words were carved into it, others written in Sharpie. The image of this desk so oppositely represented Cranbrook's pristine and orderly creed, I was surprised the desk had lasted so long without being thrown out. But I was glad that it hadn't. The imperfection of the desk meant something to me. This school wasn't full of just the same old prissy-pants jerks, even though this graffiti was likely done by at least a few of those prissy-pants jerks. I don't know, it just felt different - like this desk was the only thing not wearing a stuffy blue blazer and calling itself noble right now.

I pried my blazer off my body and reset my head to rest on my arms. Maybe I could get some sleep before my next class.

I was out for what felt like a few minutes. A gentle hand rested on my arm and an equally gentle voice spoke to me, gradually waking me up.

"Mr. Barnes-McLean? Tyler?"

"Mhmm?" I struggled to open my eyes against the bright fluorescent lights.

My guidance counselor, Ms. Rainor, was looking down at me. I sat up and tried to blink the sleepiness from my eyes.

"I-I was just-"

"Taking a nap between classes?" She asked.

"Uh, no. It's just- this is just my lunch period. I'm not really missing any thing."

"Well, since you're not busy, I was wondering if you would be willing to come to my office."

"Am I in trouble?"

"Not at all. I was just wondering if we could talk. I meet with many seniors to see how their school year is going and what they have planned for once they graduate."

I can sum that up for her right now: terrible, and nothing.

I got up, grabbed my backpack, and followed her to her office. As soon as I sat down in her office, I just spilled everything. I told her about how shitty I was to my friends, about my indecisiveness towards college, and my indecisiveness towards... other things.

"Other things?"

I chewed my lip. If I didn't say it now, I might never say. I've been trying to figure this out - figure myself out - but it really isn't that difficult. I know what this means.

"Things like... friendships."

"Friendships?"

"And relationships."

"Relationships. With your friends."

"Uh-huh."

"What about these relationships? Are you and your friends getting along?"

"I uh- I don't know. Well, I... I think he hates me."

"Why would you think your friend hates you?"

"Because I hurt him."

"Did you get in a fight?"

"Kinda. Not a physical one. He just... yelled at me. I was a jerk to him, though. I'd hate me, too."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Do you hate yourself because of what happened? Do you blame yourself?"

"Of course I blame myself. He- look, he did something bad because of how I treated him, and because everyone treats him like crap."

"If he's your friend, why would you treat him badly?"

"I don't know. I shouldn't have. He's... he's the nicest guy I've ever met. He was there for me from day one, and he's the best friend I've ever had. But I couldn't even stick up for him when they made fun of him. And I thought he'd be better off without me, but... things are bad no matter what I do. I mean, if I'm friends with him, he gets bullied. And if I ignore him, he gets bullied."

"So wouldn't you rather be with him then, if it doesn't matter what you do?"

Ms. Rainor doesn't even know who I'm talking about, but what she just said made perfect sense. It was like the right answer just slapped me in the face. Either way, Lewis was being treated like crap, and even if I think I'm the cause of it, it's still worse if we aren't together at all.

"You're totally right, Ms. Rainor."

"And Tyler, if someone is bothering you, you know you can come to me or any of the guidance counselors or faculty."

Maybe there's something else I can do too.

**

At the end of the day, I spotted Lewis talking to Naran. At least they were cool. I still had to make amends with Lewis myself.

"Let's watch Mean Girls and order pineapple and pepperoni pizza." I heard Naran say. Lewis nodded and they hugged. A knot pulled in my stomach. I think I'm jealous of Naran and how much better he is at being a friend.

Naran spotted me first and tapped Lewis. He turned around; I couldn't tell if he was upset to see me or not.

"I'll catch you later, Lewis." Naran said before disappearing.

"Hey, Tyler."

"Hey, Lewis."

This was gonna be hard.

"Are you... feeling better?"

"Yeah. A little better."

"You look good."

"Thanks."

Cue awkwardness.

"I think we're past the awkward greetings, don't you think?" he said.

"Uh yeah, yeah you're probably right."

"Well, um, I know there's probably a lot going on in your head right now, and I honestly don't have that much to say, so before we get started, I just wanted to say thank you for saving me that day."

"Wait, what are you talking about?"

"You got me to the hospital. You and Naran. And if you hadn't come when you did, I could have been lying there for who knows how long. I almost didn't make it. So you... you two saved my life. And I want to thank you for that."

I shook my head. "I don't... I don't want to think of it like that."

"What do you mean?"

"I didn't do anything like that. I didn't save you. I mess things up for you all the time. If it wasn't for me, you..."

He stared at me for a minute before reaching up to brush my hair aside. He saw it then, my eyes watering up.

"You don't think... Tyler, this was not about you. Sure, you treated me pretty badly before, but that wasn't enough to drive me to-"

"Yeah, look, you can say that, and everyone can tell me it's not my fault, but you left here feeling like shit and it was my fault for not sticking up for you. You said it yourself - I stood by and let those assholes bully you again and again. If I had just said something, done something, then maybe they would've laid off on you... and you wouldn't..." I swallowed. "You wouldn't have gotten hurt."

"You can't believe that, can you? They were already messing with me before you showed up."

"No, I mean... you wouldn't have hurt yourself."

He slowly realized what I meant. "Oh. I don't blame you for that, and you shouldn't either. I've got my own problems to deal with, and I'm sorry if I made you feel like they were your fault. I guess it's pretty obvious at this point, but I don't have the best self esteem and I have trouble handling things, I guess."

"Don't say that like it's no big deal. Something drove you to intentionally hurt yourself."

"I've dealt with this for a few years now, Tyler. To me, it really isn't a big deal."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You could have died."

He gave a sad smile. "I'm happy that didn't happen and I feel stupid for doing it, but I can't honestly tell you that it hasn't happened before, or that I won't do it again."

"I just don't understand what could drive you to do something like that. I mean, I get that you're bullied an-and I know that you aren't happy at home and-and you-you hate me and probably don't give a shit about what I have to say to you, but I refuse to believe that the Lewis I know could be capable of-of-of doing something like that."

Every breath I took kept getting caught on my words. I was rambling at him, but for what? Why would he listen to anything I say? He hates-

"Do you really think that I hate you?" he asked.

"You told me to fuck off."

"I was mad, Tyler. I was angry- I was pissed. I had just got thrown in the dumpster by the same jerks who've thrown me in the dumpster before. I was angry at them, and... and I was angry at you for not doing anything to stop them because... because I thought you were my friend."

"Yeah, well I'm a shitty friend. I think we all know that now."

"You didn't have to be my friend."

"Nobody held a gun to my head-" I stopped, the image of Lewis lying in a hospital bed shot through my mind. "You know what? Just forget it. You don't want to deal with me anymore. I get that. You've been trying to push me away since day one and I should have realized that."

"What are you talking about?"

"You kept telling me that I could have anybody as a friend at this school, that I could be so popular and that I didn't need you. I should have realized you were just trying to get rid of me."

I felt like shit. The look he was giving me right now, that was a look of sorrow. A look of pity.

He felt sorry for me.

"Tyler..." he started but I couldn't let him finish that sentence.

"Just forget it!" I was done with this. "And forget me."

I turned and bolted, but I still caught a glimpse of the look he was giving me. He pitied me.

Why did I think this school was going to be any different? The orphan outcast never makes friends and never keeps families. Why did I think this would be any different?

**

I slammed the door when I got home, causing a concerned Cory to peek his head out of the kitchen.

"Hey, Tyler. How was your day-"

"Why did you adopt me?"

I caught him off guard. "What?"

"Why did you adopt me?

"Do you remember what you said to us at the orphanage?"

"Not really, no."

"You said we could adopt you on one condition: if we waited at least four months before trying to give you up. Four months. That was back in June. Now it's November. If we didn't like you, why would we keep you for two months longer than we had to?"

"You didn't have to do anything. You could have dropped me the first week if you wanted."

"But we didn't because we love you and we wanted you to be a part of our family. Have you changed your mind about that?"

"Well, considering everyone else in my life changes their mind, I figured I'd beat you to the punch."

I started heading upstairs.

"Wait, Tyler, what do you mean by that?"

I slammed my bedroom door and wedged my chair under the doorknob. I grabbed my orphanage duffel bag from the floor of my closet and started throwing shit into it - clothes, deodorant, toothbrush - whatever I thought I would need. Once it was stuffed, I slung the bag over my shoulder. I didn't want to face Cory again, and I knew Sean would be home any minute. So how was I doing this?

What was I doing?

I dropped my bag to the floor and flopped onto my bed. Just as my back hit the mattress, my phone buzzed. I dug it out of my pocket.

I really dont want to play this game with you ~ Lewis

'What game?' I texted back.

He texted back almost instantly. This bullshit game wher you keep tryin to play the victim

What the fuck? What is he talking about?

This wasn't a conversation to do over text. I called him.

"What the hell do you mean I keep playing the victim?"

"I'm talking about how I'm the one who gets beat up, goes to the hospital, almost dies, and then the first time I talk to you after I got out, you try to make me feel sorry for you and then don't even let me respond. I don't understand why you're mad at me, but if you're trying to seem like a dick on purpose just so I'll leave you alone, I have to say that's really stupid and cowardly."

"Why the hell would I want you to feel sorry for me?"

"I don't fucking know, Tyler, but I'm tired of this."

"Tired of what?"

"Tired of letting you do this! Letting you bitch and moan about how bad your life is and how nobody likes you when you're probably the luckiest guy in the world."

"You don't know me or what I've been through."

"No, I don't. But honestly, I'd like it better if I did because then I could justify feeling sorry for you. You're the most popular kid in school, you have two amazing parents who love you, you're athletic and smart and you could have anybody you wanted just by looking at them, but I'm the one who feels sorry for you! You've spent so long being a charity case that you don't know how to turn it off!"

"I CAN'T FUCKING BELIEVE YOU! I AM NOT A CHARITY CASE!"

"THEN STOP ACTING LIKE ONE!"

I threw my phone at the dresser, cracking the case open and sending it's parts flying who knows where.

I grabbed my duffel bag.