alone

"I'll knock some sense into you!"

George's POV

I decide the next day to completely ignore Clay. And, keep my promise. I will make him feel sorry. I will not let him act like I'm an absolute fool in front of his friends, just because he's supposed to be cool and shit. Once I enter my First hour class, I completely ignore Clay. I take a quick look at him when I first entered the class, but that was it. Not one single look all hour.
I found it hard to ignore him, but at the same time I also enjoyed giving him the payback he deserves. He's such a dick, oh my god. I made another plan to not speak to him once until he apologized, and explained why he said what he said.
Second hour was even more dreadful. And boring as hell. I thought about talking to him for about 10 seconds while we were on a break but I then thought about what him and his friend said and immediately got back on track with my plan. At the end of second hour, Clay comes up to me before we leave.

"Hey, I-"

"Unless you apologizing, and actually mean it, then shoo. I don't need your toxicity in my life. Especially from your friends, too. I thought you were nicer than I expected at first. But I guess I was wrong. Your just another jock."

"I am sorry, George. I only said what I said because I know my friends will make fun of me for talking to you. And you obviously can see that I was correct, because of what Karl said to you. I'm sorry about him too, by the way."

Karl. That's his name.

"Until you straighten yourself out, don't talk to me. If you're going to be ashamed to even know my name, then I honestly want nothing to do with you."

"I deserve that." Clay said.

"Mhm." Is all I respond with. I feel a lot better now that I stood up to him. I will not deal with his shit. I get back to packing up and he walks away. I didn't notice how tense I was until he walked away, and my shoulders finally relaxed and my jaw relaxed, also.
Time passes and I forget about Clay. But all eighth hour I couldn't stop thinking about it. I really got my hopes up for something that doesn't even matter anymore. He sucks. I felt my face get red and my firsts start to clench together. I had been balling up my emotions about this for way too long. I shouldn't of done that because I felt my face get hotter and hotter every second and my fingernails were basically digging into the palms of my hands.
Why is this making me so upset? I end up getting so upset I ask to use the restroom, and thankfully the teacher let me go. As I'm walking down the hallway, my eyes pool with tears and my hands throb with pain. Once I enter the bathroom, I notice no one was in there. Thank fucking god.
I walk into a stall, lock myself in there, and notice my hands were bleeding from the impact of my fingernails on my palms. Dammit. I start to think I have anger issues at this point. This isn't normal behavior for me.
But I also have never found a guy that I liked, and him then treat me like shit. I've always had issues with making friends, and once I make a friend, I'm so afraid to loose them that it's stupid. But the way I've been treated all my life has shaped this behavior, and I knew that. I loved Clay. Not only liked him, I loved him.
I quickly make myself look at least presentable and I walk back to class. I think Clay could tell I was upset because he looked at me with a worried expression. I am honestly going to just avoid him 100% at this point. I want nothing to do with him. He's fucked me up enough. And I can tell he has a lot of self-work to do before we can even think about being more than just classmates.
Once I get home, I take a longer shower than usual so I can at least let out some of this anger that is pent up in me. I can't live with my emotions stuck in my mind like this.
I'll explode. I decide that at some point soon I will make sure Clay got a lot more revenge than I thought I would give in the first place. He deserved more than just me ignoring him for a week, and not excepting his apology. I'm gonna make your life not just hell, but feel like your being tortured at the same time.