I, Spencer Evans

"I love this movie." Leaning closer to me, Cal whispered in my ear.
Monday had come quickly, welcoming groaning, sleep deprived teenagers. We were in health class, being forced to watch The Human Centipede to demonstrate the gastric system. I think when I was a baby and I made a mess in my diaper I realized what the gastric system was. I didn't need an hour and a half long, sick, twisted, presentation on it. Personally, I thought the teacher just didn't feel like teaching. I snickered. "The second one's supposed to be in theaters October 7th." Cal's eyes widened. "We should totally go see it."

"I'll pass." Playfully, he punched my arm.
　
　
Five minutes before the bell, Mr. Rager switched on the lights, and introduced us to our homework over the reproductive system-which was due Wednesday. "Hey, James."

"Why yes, Peterson?"

Peterson and his friend's heels tapped against ours as we filed out of the classroom. "Do you know how two men have sexual intercourse?" Rolling my eyes, I gripped the straps of my purple Vans backpack tighter.
　
"I don't, my dear friend."

"Why is that?"

"Because they're not supposed to." They both cackled, shoving me and Cal into a row of lockers. "This penis goes in the anus! It really hurts if you don't lube up!" Cal shouted down the hall, adjusting his neon green Jansport backpack. Their cackles could be heard from the next hall over.

"Hey, you okay?" I asked, patting Cal on the shoulder.

"Yeah." He said stiffly. "Can we just go to next hour?"
　
.:~:.

During study hall- the second class of the day- while the teacher was out of the room, I was busy scribbling down my answers on a geometry worksheet neither Cal nor I had bothered to pick up when I felt something graze my face. Annoyed, I glared up at Peterson. A cheap brand of condom stared at me from my plastic desk. It was obvious it was the football jocks; they giggled like little eighth graders who thought they just pulled the best prank ever. Disgusted, I daintily flicked it off my desk.

"Oh yeah." Peterson whispered to me. "I forgot you don't need those." On the other side of the room, Cal pretended to be intensely working on a math problem. Behind him, Brittany Hatter twirled one of her loose blonde curls, and peered over Cal's shoulder. She had recently finished re-painting her nails a vibrant pink. The smell still lingered in the air. Why did we have to have assigned seats?

"Even if I did use condoms." I snapped at Peterson. "I would at least buy a less cheap brand." One of his friends quietly "ooo"ed. He quickly received an elbow to the chest.

"Whatever." He spat.

"You know it's true." I said in a sing songy voice, circling my answer on my paper.
Peterson's neck whipped towards me so fast, I swore I heard the bones in it crack. "I fucked you up yesterday; do you want me to fuck you up again?"

Erasing a mistake, I casually continued to instigate. "Actually, last I recall from our little meet-and-greet yesterday was that you were hurled over in the grass, clutching your crotch." All fifteen of the students in the room erupted with laughter. Cal cracked a smile, and I winked at him.

"Wanna have a re-match?" Peterson boomed. Trying to show off how tough he was, he flung a desk into the cabinet.

"No, I'm good." At the same time Peterson made a move towards me, Cal jumped up out of his seat.

"The little lacrosse princess wants to join, too?"

Everyone turned to face Cal. Examining her manicured nails, Brittany checked him out.
"No. Because there's not going to be any re-matching."

"Are you scared, Evans?" He growled in my face, scattering my paper and pencil on the floor.
"Are you ten, Peterson?" It was time to stand up.

"You just keep running your mouth, don't you, Evans?"

I knew Cal was probably freaking out right now, but I had it all under control.

I started off being the bigger person. "Look, Peterson. I don't want to fight-"

"-I do." He interrupted, flinging me back towards into the desk.

A small tide of "ohh" filled the room. Whispers were passed not-so-quietly. Straightening out my Asking Alexandria shirt, I hopped off the two-desk pile up, and took small steps towards Peterson. Once he was confused, I made my move; shooting my fist right into his abdomen. The wind was knocked out of him, sending him sprawling over. Once he was vulnerable, I bashed my elbow down on his head.

"Spencer, stop!" Cal warned me, but was ignored.

Peterson raised his arm; a swing and a miss. Taking off my studded checkered belt, I wrapped it around his neck and cornered him against the wall. "Leave. Me. The hell. Alone." I snarled in his face, pulling the belt tighter. Peterson fought for oxygen, clawing at the belt I had around his neck. His fingers made it to mine, and he tried to pry them from my weapon.

It didn't faze me until he started bending my wrist back. "Fuck." I gasped, dropping the belt from one hand.

Peterson thought quick, grabbing the belt from my hand, and shoving my back into the wall. The tables have now turned. "No." He barked. "You know why?" He wrapped the accessory tight around my neck. "Because. You're. A. Homo." I shut my eyes tightly. The word stung with so much venom.

"Get off of him!" Cal shouted. James pushed Cal backwards. His head hit the wall. I closed my eyes tightly again.

Torturing me more, Peterson grabbed my wrist, loosening the noose. "Does the emo one cut?" Forcefully, he put pressure on my wrist, causing me to hiss in pain. "I don't see any scars."
As if he knew exactly where they were, he lifted up my shirt. One of his friends handed him a scissor. I gulped, hard.

First, the strokes of the scissor down my right side were gentle. Then, once he felt the jackpot- a collection of scars, scar tissue, and bruises- he pressed harder. Peterson raised the belt up to my mouth, to muzzle out the sound of my cries. I felt it break the skin. A searing pain shot through my side.

Tears of blood trickled down my side. The belt slid down to my chin, allowing me the privilege to use my mouth. I bit down on Peterson's finger, hard. "You stupid faggot!"
He hissed, releasing me, just as I had planned.

What was this? The sound of skin against skin? James tumbled into the desk. Cal Burns had actually thrown a serious punch.

Grabbing Peterson's shirt, I pulled him close. "At least I stand for something." I spat. "What do you-"

"I stand for everyone out there who's scared or who is living fucking hell because of their sexuality. You're just a disgrace."

The door clicked open. Everyone froze in place. I gripped Peterson's shirt while Cal hovered over James with a loaded fist. "All of you to the principal's office. Now."
　
.:~:.

　
"Are you coming with me to work today?" I asked Cal as we walked through the parking lot. After spending the rest of the day in the principal's office, I was ecstatic to leave the premises.

"Not this time, love. I have lacrosse practice. First game is next Thursday and it's already almost sold out. People love me." He continued to walk aristocratically down the pavement.

"Oh yeah, I almost forgot."

"You're coming, right?"

"Yeah, of course. I'll bring Dez." We both smiled.

"Alright." Cal sighed, putting his hands behind his head when we got to the end of the lot. "You sure you don't want me to drive you?"

"I'm sure." I pulled the strap of my backpack up higher. "I'll be fine."

"Alright. "He said again, kissing me lightly on the lips. "I'll text you after practice."

"Sounds good."

"I love you, Spencer."

"Love you too, Cal." Our lips touched a little bit harder.
　

.:~:.
　
Dez was folding shirts on the front display table when I arrived at work. The store was empty; I knew it wouldn't be that way for long. “Hey, Spencer!" Jasmine called, handing me a rubber LGBT bracelet. "That will be two dollars." Her foundation-coated lips made a smile. "I'm just kidding; you can have it for free since I love you so very much." Pinching my cheek between her tannish fingers, Jasmine made it as if I were a cute infant.

"Well thank you, Jazz. I love you, too."

Checking her pink plastic watch, she let out a small gasp. "Sorry, Spence! I gotta run. Catch you later!" She shouted, running towards the food court to meet up with her girlfriend.

"Hey, you." Dez cooed, folding a panda Hello Kitty shirt.

"What was Jazz's girlfriend's name again?" I asked, dropping my backpack behind the counter.

"Liza, I believe."

"Oh. Well they're cute."

"Why yes they are." Dez smoothed out her clip-in hair. "Where's your boy toy?"
I slightly chuckled, leaning my elbows on the checkout counter.

"He's not my boy toy. And lacrosse."

"Well, sooner or later you two will be alone and-"

"-Desiree."

"I'm just saying." She threw up her hands in defense. She returned back to folding crumpled shirts from the shelves. “So how was school?” I examined the bracelet on my wrist.

"Good."

"Just good?"

I shrugged. "Stupid Kent Peterson won't leave me and Cal the fuck alone."

"So why don't you just ignore him, Spencer?" Dez asked
sympathetically, putting shirts in their rightful place.

"Because it's physical."

"Do you fight back?"

"Well-"

"-Yes or no question, Spence."

"Yes."

"Why?" Hell if I knew. Sighing loudly, I tapped the counter.

"Just forget it, Dez." Looking up through the door, my heart skipped a beat. Squinting, I made sure it was really him before I made my next move. Kent Peterson could not leave me alone.