Detention [Boyxboy]

Chapter 11

The night Chris broke up with me I went to bed angry and woke up the next morning furious. I typically don’t remember my dreams in full detail, from beginning to end, but that night I remembered everything: Chris was in all of those dreams, and in every scene I was either killing or seriously beating him up. 

Gray light entered my window, into my room and it felt cold on my face. I woke up, wishing I hadn’t awaken up, wishing I could stay asleep for a very long time. It was early, only six thirty in the morning. I still had an hour and a half before I had to be at school. I could’ve gone back to sleep, but I didn’t want to dream about Chris again, so I chose to stay awake, just staring up at the ceiling. The more I tried to not think about Chris, the more his face kept entering into my body, the more I could smell his scent under my nose, and the more I could feel the touch of his skin against mine. I wished I could’ve erased all memories of him; I wished I could erase all feelings for him.

I just laid in my bed for another half an hour, thinking about not thinking about Chris. Soon it was time for me to get up and start to get ready for school. I wanted to fake sick and just stay in the bed all day. I didn’t want to go to school and see Chris all day. But I chose to get up, shower, and get dressed for two reasons: first, I didn’t want Chris to think that I was staying home crying and being depressed over him - and also because I had to go to detention. When I was ready to go, I saw that my mother was already dressed and ready to go to work. “Good morning,” she said. She was trying to sound nice and supportive, which I appreciated, but really didn’t want to deal with at the moment. 

“Hey,” I muttered.

“Do you want me to drive you to school?” she asked.

That question confused me. “Drive me to school? You haven’t driven me to school since the first day of my freshman year.”

“I have a little bit of extra time before I have to be at work,” my mother said. 

“No, that’s okay,” I said. “Rather take the bus.”

“Are you still upset about last night?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” I answered. I tried to smile, but it didn’t work, so I just stared at her blankly. My mother looked concerned. 

“Are you sure?” she continued to question.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, this time more sharply. I walked toward the front door.

“I hope you have a good day at school,” my mother said before I walked out of the door.

“I’m not counting on it,” was my response. I shut the door behind me. 

* * *

The only reason why I sat in front of Chris in Spanish class was because there was nowhere else to sit. I had forced myself not to make eye contact with him. But I could feel his eyes on me, watching me the whole time; my heart was racing the whole time, and there were times when I wanted to turn around and look at his face - but I refused. I had to refuse. I had to let him know that he was just as unimportant to me as I was to him - or as unimportant as he wanted me to be to him. 

During lunch, I sat under my favorite tree, eating a soggy green apple and a gross tuna fish sandwich. It had been a while since I’d eaten lunch alone - since I’d spent time alone in general. It felt weird. I watched people walking by in groups, talking and laughing about whatever bullshit people talk and laugh about. A part of me felt jealous that I didn’t have a boyfriend - or friends in general who were proud to be seen in public with me, that didn’t hide behind fake exteriors, and who were honest. I looked up and saw Chris walking, not too far away from where I was sitting. Our eyes met and my heart felt like it had stopped. I didn’t take one breath. He kept walking, with his eyes on me and ended up bumping into someone. And then he looked away, walking faster, trying to get away from me as fast as possible. Maybe if he had come over and talked to me - maybe if he had looked at me just a few seconds longer...maybe I wouldn’t have been so angry any longer.