Bite My Tongue

Day three in the torture chamber. Things were the same as always. And by always, I mean a never-ending living hell. I was already loaded with homework, and that had only been first period. A class which, might I add, Matt spent the entirety of yapping my ear off about how he was going to ask out some girl. A girl that apparently Lee said he actually had a chance with.

Lee. Just thinking his name made vomit rise up in the back of my throat. I'd been in the same room as him for a grand total forty minutes over the past two days, and I already hated him. Not just the way that he made fun of me-- that I was used to. Even Matt did it from time to time. No, there was something about Lee that rubbed me the wrong way. And I especially detested the way that Matt had basically started to worship the guy. Maybe it sounds selfish to say that I was jealous-- maybe even ridiculous, considering how Matt had hardly known him longer than I had. But fuck it, I was jealous. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach that worsened with every compliment that Matt gave him, every compliment that couldn't be said about me. I hated how even I knew that Lee was better than me-- how long until Matt that realized he could just move on from me?

History was no better. We'd switched seats so that I was now sitting directly in front of Oliver, who refused to talk to me. The same was true of the day before; each time I'd tried to speak to him, he'd just rolled his eyes and ignored me. Although, I wasn't exclusive in earning his silence; he spent the entire class glaring at the other kids, only speaking to snap at the teacher when she asked him a question. How the hell was I supposed to do a project with him? I couldn't even talk to the guy. While I was intimidated by most people, Oliver's harsh brown eyes and disinterested narcissism made him even more terrifying. I needed him to like me, if only enough to get this awful assignment done. But any lame attempt at conversation that I played out in my head would most definitely crumble under his judgmental stare.

I could feel his eyes on me during the entire class, convincing myself that he was judging my every move instead of just looking out the window or, god forbid, actually paying attention to the teacher. I really didn't understand why I cared so much about what he thought. I'd talked to him once, if that even counted as a conversation. Yet for some reason, I felt like his disapproval would destroy me. Like my entire existence hinged on him not thinking that I was a weirdo.

Nervously chewing on my lip, I leaned back to sit up straighter in my seat. Wait, fuck-- he probably couldn't see now. I leaned forward, holding my chin in my hand. Great, now I looked lazy. I continued to shift in my seat, trying to find the least noticeable position. But no matter what I did, I could still feel his gaze drilling into the back of my head. What was he thinking? Was it about me? And why, for some reason, was there a part of me that sort of wanted it to be my name running through his mind?

As the teacher rambled on about some historical event that for the life of me I couldn't find any interest in, I felt my desk start to shake underneath me. Glancing down, I saw Oliver's foot pushing against the leg of the chair. I tried to ignore it, but the constant shaking was starting to drive me insane. Finally, I spun around in my seat to glare at him.

"Would you stop that?" I hissed, suddenly angry.
Oliver's mouth twitched up at the corners, and he didn't respond. Instead, he began tapping his foot with even more force. I groaned, narrowing my eyes. "Seriously, quit it!"

"Boys!" I quickly turned back to the front of the room to see the Ms. Shinoda staring at us, along with the rest of the class.

The color rose to my cheeks, although I was sure that Oliver was enjoying the attention. He still hadn't stopped kicking my seat, a fact that I was painfully aware of. However, I was unable to do anything about it, mostly because of the possibility that I'd get called out again. So instead, I tried to focus on what Ms. Shinoda was saying, attempting to take notes even though it was only the third freaking day of school.

The end of class, once it eventually arrived, was like a blessing. It meant that the constant annoying jarring of my desk finally stopped, although I was still pretty pissed about it. After returning my notebook to my backpack, I turned around and asked, "What the hell was that for?"

Then I squinted in confusion, because Oliver was gone. What the fuck? I hoisted my bag onto my shoulder, jogging out of the classroom to try and see where he went. I was a little disoriented by the swarm of people, but I was quickly able to pick out Oliver; his dark clothes stuck out from the nauseatingly cheerful fashion sense that plagued the rest of the student body.

Squeezing my way through the hall after him, I mumbled my apologies to the people that I accidentally bumped into, although I doubted that they heard me. He seemed to be snaking his way to the other side of the school, for some reason not taking the easily direct route. Why would he be making all these twists and turns? Was he trying to be late for class or something? At this rate, I was going to be late too. Biting my lip, I slowed to a stop as Oliver ran up the stairs. I wanted to know where he was going, but...fuck, it wasn't worth being late over.

Luckily, my next class was in this wing of the building, so I was able to make it on time. Being late would've made a huge scene, which I really didn't want. I slid into my seat, trying not to focus on how everyone else was absorbed in conversation. How they all had friends, not just here in this class, but in general.

As the teacher began the lesson, I felt my mind drifting. Instead of the quadratic equation, Oliver's face was filling my mind. I didn't know why, I really didn't-- but I didn't try and push it away, either. I'd exchanged about five words with him, and honestly, he'd been a total dick. But there was something about his eyes that intrigued me. They were so dark, so mesmerizing. There was something about them, something that didn't match up with his cocky exterior. I kept thinking about the glance we'd shared the other day...though for the life of me, I couldn't decide the reason for it.

When the time for lunch came around, I was slightly dreading it. Not that fact that I'd get to eat-- that was something I'd been looking forward to all morning. I was more worried about the fact that I'd be at Lee's table again. I didn't know who was a bigger twat, him or Oliver; it was a close contest.

As I walked to my locker, I felt a prickle on the back of my neck. Almost as if someone was watching me. I glanced backward, but the hall had already cleared out for the most part. Shaking it off, I continued walking. Except the feeling wouldn't leave. If anything, it was getting worse. If there had been butterflies in my stomach before, now there was a gymnastic team. A fucking butterfly gymnastic team, imagine that. No, it wasn't fun.

The walls around me seemed to be coming closer, and I felt my breathing grow faster.

No. Not here. Not right now.

I inhaled slowly, trying to suppress the growing fear that it was going to happen again-- it being the nearly constant panic attacks that I feared every day. As I exhaled, I attempted to remind myself that I was okay, that despite what I thought, I wasn't actually going to die. I could calm down. I was in control. At least, that was what I told my mom so that she wouldn't send me to therapy.

I wasn't that crazy, was I?

After successfully clearing most of the panic out of my mind, I grabbed my lunch from my locker and headed to the cafeteria. I spotted Matt at the same table, forcing a smile onto my face as I got nearer.

"Hey, what's up?" Matt asked as I sat down.

I didn't like the way that Lee was staring at me, and even being around Matt couldn't quiet my nerves. "Nothing m-much," I replied, pulling out my lunch.

Matt nodded, not even trying to keep the conversation going. Was anything more than three words too much of an effort for him? Oh wait, I'd forgotten-- Lee was there. How could I even compete? Resigning myself to eat in silence, I busied myself with listening to Matt and Lee's conversation. Yeah, it sucked that I wasn't a part of it. But gossip was gossip, and I couldn't say that it wasn't interesting.

Mostly they just talked about who was dating who, although the topic soon turned to the girl that Matt wanted to ask out.

"You should do it," Lee said, nudging Matt with his elbow.

"Nah," Matt replied, trying and failing to pretend like he thought that he didn't have a chance with her-- not that he actually did.

"C'mon," Lee whined. "Chloe totally likes you."

"Yeah," Jordan chimed in, and my eyes darted to him before focusing back down on the table. I hadn't even noticed he was sitting there, probably because I'd been too preoccupied with Lee.

I had no idea who Chloe was, but I wasn't about to ask. It was obvious that none of them wanted to talk to him, and it would be dumb of me to bother them. So I just waited, listening to them continue to talk. After a few more minutes, Lee announced that he was leaving. Since he was apparently the 'brain' of his body of jocks, everyone quickly followed suit-- including Matt, much to my disappointment.
When I didn't stand with them, Matt gave me a look. "Aren't you coming?"

"N-no thanks," I said, avoiding Matt's gaze. "I'll stay here."

Matt pursed his lips, with a look of...was that disappointment on his face?

"Well, see you later then," he said, finally turning away and shrugging. He then left the cafeteria with the clump of Lee's 'friends'. From the back, I couldn't tell any of them apart.

Once they'd left, I quickly finished my lunch. I didn't like the way that people were looking at me-- probably wondering who the loner freak was. At least last year it hadn't been as awkward because Matt had been at the table with me. And, might I add, not with any new douchey friends.

Even though it was nowhere near time to go to my next class, I got up and left the lunchroom. I couldn't sit there and be gawked at any longer. I walked through the empty hallways, not really knowing where to go. I figured that the bathroom was as good as anywhere, just so that I didn't run into anybody. As I went toward it, I realized just how pathetic it was that I was about to spend lunch hiding in the bathroom. But what could I do?

Sighing, I pushed through the door into the guy's bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty, and I slid my bag off of my back and onto the floor. On second thought, I picked it back up, because the ground was actually pretty disgusting. I leaned against the radiator in the corner, wondering why the shitty school hadn't redecorated since the 80's. That was when I heard footsteps approaching the door. I hastily ran into a stall, locking the door. Yeah, going in a stall made me look really dumb, but not as dumb as I would for just hanging out in the bathroom. Besides, whoever it was would never know it was me.

As a last precaution, I sat on the toilet seat and pulled my knees up towards my chest. Hopefully, whoever it was would think that the stall was unoccupied and not try and start a conversation with me. Firstly, because I didn't feel like talking to anyone at the moment. Also, who the hell talks to someone while they're going to the bathroom? That's just weird.

But as I waited, whoever entered the bathroom didn't make a sound. Which was actually pretty strange, because I didn't recall the bathroom being such a popular hangout. I wanted to see what was going on, but didn't dare to move to get a closer look. If I did, they'd hear me for sure.

Yet the reason why I was hiding in a bathroom wasn't as peculiar as what happened next, because as I sat there, butt aching because of the stiff toilet seat, I heard what sounded like a whimper. As I continued to listen, I heard a shaky exhale, and then some sniffling. Whoever it was...they were crying.

I bit my lip, feeling bad for eavesdropping during this clearly private moment. I also felt pretty embarrassed, not just for myself but for this poor guy who was actually crying during the school day. The golden rule of being a guy in high school was to never let your guard down-- and while I didn't always abide by it, I'd never seen someone screw it up so badly before.

The kid's sobs soon quieted down, turning into hiccups. I wondered what he'd been so upset about. I could imagine him wiping the tears from his eyes, trying to compose himself. I'd been in his shoes before more times than I could count. If he was anything like me, now he'd be staring at his reflection in the mirror, wondering how someone so ugly and awful could even continue to exist. Wondering why he was still even allowed to breathe.

I held my breath as I heard footsteps passing by the stall that I was in, then exhaled as I heard the door to the bathroom open and then slam closed. Quickly, I unfolded myself off of my perch, my limbs aching from being in a pretzel position for so long. Even though it was none of my business, I felt the burning desire to know who it was. Not to make fun of them for it, just because I was curious and was so uninteresting that I had nothing better to do.

As I quietly pushed open the door, I saw a figure bolting down the empty hallway. There was no mistaking that dark hair, that skinny frame.

It was Oliver.