Robert grabbed my throat and I could barely breath. I could hear Roberts heavy breathing and smell the unions he had on his burger with lunch. The crowd around us was yelling and cheering at him as he pushed me higher up the wall. "You do not belong here, freak! You can't be here! Why can't you understand that?" Robert hissed in my face, his spit flying around while he did so. "I really like your spit on my face," I managed to bring out. Robert brought up his fist and planted it in my solar plexus. "Shut up, you stupid fag!" he yelled. Then he dropped me on the floor and kicked my chest. Hard. I couldn't help but cough and the bastard laughed. "Would you look at it mates, the little faggot can't even take a few punches." While he and his "mates" were laughing I stood up and took off, running as fast as I could with my shaky legs. I ran and ran until I couldn't hear them laugh any more. I ran for five more minutes before slowing down and making a stop at my locker. I carefully slid down with my back against my locker, hissing in pain as my stomach didn't really like the movement. Putting my head in my hands I refused to cry, to be weak. Tough Robert hadn't done much damage this time, it still hurt. As much as I wanted to hide it, I couldn't. It hurt, it hurt so damn much and it wouldn't stop!
I sat there crying for a few minutes when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up in shock and tried to back down, but my back was already against the lockers. In front of me was a boy with dark brown, messy hair and dark blue eyes. "Please don't hurt me!" I whispered pleadingly. The boy in front of me crouched down and placed his other hand under my chin, so I would look at him. "Why would I want to hurt you?" he asked, his voice soft and caring. Caring? Why would he care? "Be-because I'm a... a fag." I drop my eyes and wait for his reaction. Maybe he'll just push me and then it will be over. Or maybe he'll punch you in the jaw for talking to him. My mind told me. My head spun with all the things he could do to me. "Look at me," said the boy softly. I shook my head, knowing he will hit me when I do. "Look at me!" The boy's voice was louder this time, but still gentle. I looked up, seeing his dark blue eyes filled with worry. "What's wrong?" he asked. I shook my head. "I can't tell you, they will hurt you too," I whispered. The boy only shook his head. "They wouldn't dare to hurt me."
"You don't know them."
"And they don't know me."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Drake. My dad's the new headmaster here. Who are you?" I frowned. I didn't know that there would be a new headmaster. Drake watched my expression change and smiled a little, which made me smile too. "I'm Jace. My dad isn't the headmaster here," I joked. "How come that he is the new headmaster?" I saw his face become serious. "How come you call yourself a fag?" I looked down. "Because it's easier to let them be right," I sighed, too tired of all the shit to come up with a sarcastic comment. "No, you're not." His tone made out that nothing could change his mind, off which I'm glad. He stood up and held out his hand for me. I stared at it for a few seconds. Would he let go when I was halfway up? I grimaced at the memory of that happening but still took his hand. He helped me up, noticing my hesitation, but he didn't say anything. Together we walked towards the office. It was strange, but I trusted the guy. Maybe because he was nice to me, maybe because of... I don't know, probably just because he was nice. Nobody had been nice to me since Robert came to this school. We walked into the office and Drake motioned me to sit down. "Talk," he commanded me. "What do you want to know?" I asked, trying to play dumb. Drake didn't take the trap. "Tell me about the bully."
"Bullies," I corrected him. He nodded. "Okay, who are bullying you and why?" I shook my head and shrugged. "I don't know. He just came one day and picked me. Since his dad is... was the headmaster, he could do anything he wanted. Nobody wanted to be in trouble, so they all turned their backs on me. Well not at first, but when they noticed it was serious, they did. Nobody wanted to be beaten by him and his 'friends'." When I said the word friends, my hands made quotation marks in the air and grinned. "If Robert wasn't such a scary mofo nobody would've been afraid of him." Drake nodded. "Yeah, I can understand, I guess."
"Why are you here?" I tried changing the subject. Drake understood what I tried to do and smiled. "My dad was a principal of a boarding school near San Diego. When my mom died he couldn't take the looks of pity anymore, so he got re-assigned and moved here," he told me. I looked up at him and saw that his eyes were a little watery. Without thinking I hugged him. "I'm sorry about your mom," I said, unable to think about something more fitting.
It was four years, three months and nine days later and Drake and mine's life had changed. A lot. A few days after Drake came, Robert left with his parents. He moved to Minnesota and his "friends" were lost without him. Everybody turned on them. Since that day, I actually enjoyed going to school. I made friends, became the popular boy I was so many years ago. My grades turned into straight A's and I became captain of the football team. We won that year. I think it's safe to say that I had become a new person.
Drake started poking me to get me back into the 'real world' and I slapped his hand away. "Stop it, you're annoying!" He grinned. "I was talking to you and you weren't listening."
"I never listen to you," I commented and Drake's face fell a little. "I know that. But I was asking if you wanted to go out tonight?" I frowned. Is that boy even in his right mind? 'Drake, it's Tuesday! We can't drink on a schools night!"
Well... turns out we could drink on a schools night. Oh boy, my head is pounding like crazy! I was about to roll on my other side to sleep for a little more when I felt a warm body pressed to my back. From the snores, I could tell that it was Drake. What the hell is Drake doing in my bed?! Or is it Drake's bed? Then what the hell am I doing in his bed?! I checked the color of the sheets. Nope, it's my bed.
I jabbed him in his stomach and rolled away from him. His eye flew open and stared at me in confusion. "Dude, what the hell are you doing in my bed?! Or what am I doing in your bed?!" I winced. "Mate, stop shouting. We got drunk last night, remember?" Drake's face turned beet red. "What's up?" I asked him frowning. "Nothing. Do you remember anything?" I shook my head. 'Not yet. I'm gonna take a shower and you should do the same," I advised him. He nodded and stumbled out of my bed, towards his bathroom. I was relieved to see that his boxers were on, which meant that we didn't have... I shivered, the thought of me having sex with my best friend was not something I wanted in my head. I walked into my bathroom and looked in the mirror. I could tell, I didn't like what I saw. My hair looked like I've just had amazing hot sex and there were massive bags under my eyes. "Nice, Jace," I muttered to myself. Stepping into the shower I waited for the water to get warm. I stood there for ten minutes before I actually did something. As I washed my hair and body my head becomes clearer. Flashes of last night came back to me and I froze. "You've got to be kidding me..."