- Adrenaline -

Chapter 17: Idiot.

     The rest of the school day went by slowly. Every now and then I noticed the glares from my peers. It's obvious to me that something had already been brewed up— some sort of obscure rumor, a fake reason as to why I'm bandaged up the way I am.
     I tried not to think about it, but, it really isn't that easy, is it? When you know people are talking behind your back, and in front of your face. What makes it worse is that the truth isn't as innocent as I wish it was.
     I really thought that lying, telling people I fell would be enough. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. I can still feel Johns hands on the small of my back. The scent of his cologne, the feel of his slightly cracked lips. It's thoughts like these that kept me going.
     Before I knew it, the bell had rang, and it was time for us to pack up and go home. Every move I made felt as if it were played in .25 speed. A girl sits beside me.
     "Van Gogh?"
     "Yeah, I guess you can call me that."
     "Hey, I'm sorry about what everyone's saying about you. I got a wrist injury a while back, and-"
     "Oh, yeah, I remember. I'm sorry they said that about you."
     "It's okay now. This school moves on from drama to drama so fast, it's like it never even happened."
     She stands up from the hard plastic chair, her dodge ball duffle bag over her shoulder.
     "Good luck," she tells me. Something tells me I'm gonna need it.

     Trudging my way down the hall, to my locker, with my eyes locked on my dirty leather flats, I feel so... maybe empty isn't the right word.
     I don't know how to describe it. For some reason, I'm filled with all these different emotions. Love, lust, fear, embarrassment. It's like they all came together and cancelled each other out. Maybe my brains just trying to prevent me from getting overwhelmed.
     I almost passed by my locker.
     The devil works hard, but teenagers work harder.
     Looking up, my senses slowly come back in. My pale, yellow locker has been defaced. In black, magic marker, was written the word faggot. With a couple of poorly drawn dicks for flavor. I didn't have the energy. I just open it, and put my belongings that I need for my homework into my bag.
     Slowly, I notice the sound of rubber soled shoes scuffing the tile, like kids running or fighting.
     "Come here you good for nothin'-" is that John?
     "Fuck off, man!"
     To my left I see a little blur of color, red and white. I can't close my locker fast enough. I can't get there fast enough.
     Next thing I know Johns got this kid by the ropes of his hair, slamming his head against the wall of lockers.
     "Fuck, John!"
     The tall man looks at me, fresh blood pouring from his nose. "Ah, Vin, doll, I'm glad you're alright!"
     The kid reacts, "Doll? You're a fucking faggot too?"
     "Shut the fuck up!" John says, pushing the kid against the locker again.
     "John, let go of him, Jesus Christ!"
     He gives me a bewildered look, "Are you kidding me? I fucking- I uh- caught this fucker bragging about ruining your locker! You want me to just let him go?!"
     "It's a locker, John!" I grab onto his sleeve, pulling him. He acts as though I'm stronger than he is, dropping the kid to the ground and following me.

     "You're an idiot- you're an idiot, I can't believe you!" I'm exasperated, pulling John to the closest restroom. I just want to get him away from the scene
     "You're joking me! God, Vin, you let these kids walk all- all over you! It makes me so mad!"
     I look back at him almost in complete disbelief. We make it to the restroom, and I lock the door behind us- in case we're followed.
     "You are- are uh- you're perfectly capable of defending yourself, but you never do it! Why not, Vin? Do you think you don't deserve it?"
     "Will you shut up! God, you're so stupid! Do you realize what you did?"
     John stares at me, like the pieces haven't clicked yet.
     "They're going to know, John! And then that'll be it! We'll never get left alone!"
     I feel like I'm choking. Like I'm drowning. My face is hot, and I try my hardest not to cry.
     "Vince-"
     "You think my locker getting ruined was bad? We're done for! I'll have to be home schooled, god knows what they'll do you you!"
     "Vincent."
     I look up at him and realize I've been crying the whole time. His hands are cupping my face as he leans in for a kiss. The blood from his nose reaches my lips, and it's... not something I thought I would enjoy.
     He pulls away and laughs a little, thumbing at the smeared blood on my face.
     "Sorry 'bout that. Look, listen to me, Vince. Nothin' bads gonna happen alright? I'm not gonna let it."
     I hold his hands, and nod shakily.
     "You got nothin' to worry about. 'Cause you know what? Who cares! I don't mind being seen with you. I uh, I hope you don't mind er, bein' seen with me."
     I can't help but smile at him. Somehow this big dopey himbo jock knows all the right things to say.
     "Please wipe your nose."
     "What?"
     "Your nose," I turn and pull out one of those sand papery towels the school provides to us in the restrooms. "It's getting everywhere."
     John takes it from me and applies pressure to his nose, the towel quickly turning red.
     "I don't know what I'm gonna tell my dads."
     "Tell them the truth, I guess. You were defending me."
     "Vin, do you.. can we go to yours, first?"
     I stare at him for a bit. "Of course. I'll call my mom."

~*~

     "Thanks for lettin' me come over, Ms. Bertha."
     "No problem baby. Is it alright if I ask why you didn't want to go home?"
     "I just.. I promised my dads that I would t get into any more fights... I don't uh, want them to be disappointed."
    My mom wrings out a wet wash cloth, and gives it to John. He thankfully accepts it, and starts to rub his face.
     "You know, I think you were mighty brave. I would have never been able to show my love like that when I was a little girl."
     I turn to her, "Mom, I thought you didn't like girls?"
     "Are you kiddin' me? Then you ain't never met Jolene. Have you even seen some women?"
     "I'm not the right person to ask that to."
     "My bad baby."

     In the end, mom fed John dinner and encouraged him that everything was going to be alright. And she was correct. John went home, and not long after, texted me that everything was alright. I'm glad, too. John isn't always the best with his words when he's nervous.
     The only thing left to deal with is tomorrow.