Keeping Secrets: Baljeet X Buford

Chapter 3

It was finally the weekend.

Buford threw his bag at the wall and collapsed on his bed in one fluid motion, as if he'd done it a thousand times. Which he had. With a groan, he buried his face into his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut against the horror and humiliation of his day. The almost kiss had been bad enough, but adding an awkward lunch time on top of that just... He didn't even want to think about it.

But think about it he did.

Evidently, Baljeet hadn't told anyone about what had (almost) happened, because the rest of the gang acted as if nothing were out of the ordinary. Isabella Garcia-Shapiro had mooned over Phineas as usual. Phineas had been completely oblivious as usual. Ferb had been silent as usual. Baljeet had been sitting quietly, stabbing his macaroni and cheese violently with his fork when Buford had sat down at their usual table. The Indian had glanced up, blushed, and hastily looked back down at his lunch again.

'Buford!' Phineas had greeted with a wide grin. 'We were just making plans for a giant water slide next holidays, you keen?'

'Ya, sure, I guess,' he'd grunted, not bothering to pull out his lunch. He hadn't been hungry, which was weird enough in itself. He was always hungry.

'What about you, Baljeet?'

Silence.

'Baljeet?'

Again, silence.

'BALJEET!'

'Huh?' the boy had jumped at Phineas' shout, his eyes widening. 'I am sorry, I was thinking about...' his eyes had strayed to Buford, before hastily looking away again. 'Something else.'

Surprisingly, it was Ferb who had spoken next. 'Are you feeling alright?'

'Yes,' the Indian had shifted in his chair.

'Are you sure?' Ferb had persisted. When Baljeet would not make eye contact, his eyes had locked on Buford's. 'You seem... Distracted.'

The way he'd said it made it seem like he knew.

'I have just got a lot on my mind.'

'You know, you can use contractions, Baljeet,' Isabella had raised one raven eyebrow.

'I know that,' the boy had snapped, ending the conversation. That day was the first day in years that they hadn't walked home together.

Buford felt bad. Like, really really bad. He was manipulating the closest person to him, with the intentions of hurting him. This wasn't like when they were ten and he gave the boy wedgies and noogies. This was serious, life altering hurting.

But there was no way he could back out. Imagining his classmate's faces when they found out... He wouldn't be able to handle it. He had to do this. He had to.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he was dragged from his slumber around an hour later by his mother screaming something at him from downstairs. He sat up and ran a hand through his hair, trying to concentrate on what she was saying.

'...HERE! I'M SENDING HIM UP!'

There was a pause, and then light footsteps on the stairs. He already knew who it was. He'd been half expecting it, really. Chris had said something earlier that morning, something along the lines of, 'he'll come round, let him come to you.'

So it was no surprise when the hesitant knock on his door was followed by Baljeet stepping into his room. The Indian was still wearing the clothes he'd worn to school, despite the fact at some point he'd gotten ink stains on the white sleeve of his shirt. Maybe he'd been too busy to change. Maybe he hadn't gone home at all. The two boys stared at each other in silence, before Baljeet closed the door behind him and leant against it, breaking the eye contact to stare down at the floor.