Phobophobia

I couldn’t believe it. Mother enrolled me in a school, even though she had promised me I could be homeschooled. Fucking bitch. It was a Friday, and she was taking me to the building to attend my first day. Who makes their kid start school on a Friday? It was ridiculous. Either way, I was still on my way.

She had picked up my schedule the day before, and probably talked to a guidance counselor about my attempted suicide. We can’t let that happened again, even though I already had therapy to ‘fix’ it. I hated it. It was a waste of time and probably something that drive countless people to suicide. All they do is make you talk about your problems.

Well, here we were, standing in the front office. My mom looked at me pleadingly while I glared. Kids were looking in, administrators and secretaries were looking away. When it became beyond obvious my mom finally handed me the schedule and left. Even then none of the kids looked away, even though the tense atmosphere mom and I had created disappeared with her.

To get my point across, I glared at them as well. If I could be accused of it by people I knew, then they shouldn’t doubt for a second that I could kill. It worked, apparently. They all turned away and scampered off. Perfect. Guess reputations really do follow you wherever you go. I leave the front office, ignoring the woman who shouted that I needed to wait for my guide. Luckily, I ran into him. Literally. It was like crashing into a brick wall, and I went flying to the ground and landed hard.

“Sorry, dude. You must be Blaise, the new kid, since I haven’t seen you around before. I’m Damon.” he smiled and held out a hand. I griped it slowly and he pulled me up. For such a large guy, he was quite friendly. His eyes were open and welcoming, while he had this easy going aura that just emanated from him. He was the kind of guy you could trust.

“Thanks. Uh, y-yeah.I-I’m-mm Bl-Blai-aise.” I stuttered out in a mumble. He looked at me in a pitying way. I snapped “N-no. Don’t-t feel b-ba-ad for me.”

“Right, sorry. I had a lisp until I was thirteen, so no pressure.” he said, smiling again. Well, not the same at all, and he was over it, but, then again, I had been, too. Well, before It happened. “Well, mind if I look at your schedule?” I handed it over instantly. “We have most classes together,” he informed me, glancing over the piece of paper quickly. “It looks like your schedule is identical to my best friend’s. He- uh- he isn’t currently in school, but when he’s hopefully back you guys will get along. He’s really chill.”

It was obvious that something happened for that guy not to be in school, but hell if I ask. Damon might ask why I transferred half way through senior year. So, I quelled my questions and quietly walked next to him as he showed me the way to my locker. As we passed people waved at him and stared at me. It was super awkward.

“So, do you play any sports or do anything outside of school?” Damon asked, pointing to my new locker. It was small. And smelled weird. And the lock didn’t want to open, so Damon had to open it for me. He looked over, so I nodded my head in answer. “What do you do?”

“G-give guit-tar lessons-s.” I told him. I had been playing since I was five, so a few years ago I decided it would be worth it to make some money off of it. I still met with kids, but now I had to drive farther away. I’d probably refer them to someone else and find a music store to work in closer to my new house.

“That’s pretty awesome. I can’t play anything to save my life. Could you maybe teach me sometime?” He asked, finally wiggling my locker door open. He glanced at me again and smiled. “Oh, and you might want to ask for a new locker. This one doesn’t open.”

I nodded, to both things, and he seemed to understand that.

“Cool. Here, I’ll give you my number so we can figure out those lessons and chill.” He grinned, holding out his hand for my phone. I handed him the ancient thing, and he chuckled slightly at how old it was. It worked faithfully, though, and could do everything a phone needs to do; make calls and text. So, there has never been a reason to get a new one.

He finished putting in his number and we continued on our way to class. It was different, meeting someone who could be a real friend. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here.