My Favorite Story: Someday Out of The Blue

CHAPTER 18: TICKING

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Someday Out Of the Blue

By LittleBuddhaTW

Special thanks to Kitty (PiscesRising) from GayAuthors.org for editing!

CHAPTER 18: TICKING

"Well, look at who we have here," I heard Trent Lomax's voice say as I walked into the bathroom during third period on Monday. It had been over a month since Delcondris had his little "talk" with Trent, and he hadn't bothered me since. Unfortunately, it appeared that my luck had run out again. On the bright side, his usual group of cronies wasn't with him, and it seemed like I just showed up in the wrong place at the wrong time. And for some reason, it always seemed to be in the bathroom. I was just hoping it wouldn't be a repeat of the last time, when I'd had my head unceremoniously dunked in the toilet. "What do you want, Trent?" I asked, feeling both scared and a bit annoyed. I was starting to get tired of this. "You put on quite a performance on Saturday, Matthews," he said. "Where did you learn how to play piano?" Was Trent Lomax actually trying to have a normal conversation with me?! "Uhhh ... my grandmother taught me when I was little," I replied. "Ahhh ... so was she trailer trash like you, too?" he sneered. So much for a "nice" conversation with Trent. I should've known. "I just want to use the bathroom, so please leave me alone," I pleaded. "What's wrong? Get plowed up the ass too many times by your boyfriend and can't hold it in anymore?" he asked with a sickening laugh. Now I was starting to get pissed. First, he insulted my grandmother, then he insulted me and my boyfriend. After spending the weekend worrying about Toby and trying to figure out what the hell was going on with Ryan, I really wasn't in the mood to deal with Trent Lomax right now. Maybe I should have tried to come up with some kind of witty or sarcastic remark, but I wasn't too keen on getting the crap beaten out of me -- I'd actually kind of gotten used to not getting beaten up over the past few months, and it was a pleasant change. Plus, I really had to pee. So I just tried to ignore him, hoping he'd get bored, and made my way over to the urinals to do my business. Unfortunately for me, Trent Lomax apparently didn't get bored that easily, because the next thing I knew, he had grabbed me by the shirt and thrown me up against the wall, pinning me against the cold, puke green tiles. "I asked you a question, Matthews," he snarled. "So you'd better answer me before I bitch slap your faggot ass!" His face was just inches from mine. I could see every bead of sweat on his forehead, a small scar above his right eyebrow, the tiny pimples on his nose, and each little vein in his piercing, angry eyes. I couldn't decide if I should pretend to faint or piss my pants in the hopes that he'd leave me alone. But before I could make my decision, my body reacted somewhat differently from how I had been planning. I kneed him square in the crotch. "OH FUCK!!!" he screamed, as he let me go and doubled over, grabbing his groin in pain. I should have taken the opportunity to run as fast as I could -- and find another bathroom (I still had to pee!) -- but I didn't. Instead, I saw my archnemesis bent over in front of me, moaning in pain ... the punk who had tormented me since my first week at school ... and I was pissed! So instead of running, I started pummeling him. I wasn't exactly sure how to go about beating someone up, since I'd never done it before. But I'd seen enough movies and had the snot beaten out of me enough times to get the general idea that fists, feet, and knees were all viable weapons. So I just started pounding on him with all three, surprising myself with the sound of my own screaming as each blow landed. Trent eventually landed on the floor, and I was on him like a flash of lightning, whaling on his face with my fists and shouting every profanity I could think of. I didn't even realize anyone had come into the bathroom until I felt the strong arms of the vice-principal, Mr. Wakowski, pulling me off of Trent and trying to hold me back. I almost would have gotten free from his grip and gone back to beating on the now pathetic-looking lump on the floor if it hadn't been for Officer Karen coming into the bathroom, the walkie-talkie on her belt crackling with noise, and forcing me face first against the wall. It was not a pleasant experience. After she held me pressed tightly against the wall for a couple minutes, with her surprisingly gentle voice telling me to calm down, my ragged breathing started to return to normal. As I glanced over my shoulder and saw the vice-principal tending to Trent, and the school nurse coming in the door only a few moments later, I suddenly wished that I had just blacked out. Then I could say that the whole thing was just a bout of temporary insanity, and that I'd had no idea what I was doing. But I had. I felt every punch as it landed against Trent's face, heard the horrible cracking sound of what must have been his nose breaking, and each moan as my fists made impact, and I both saw and felt the blood spurting up from his face. And it sickened me. Not because I was squeamish when it came to blood, but because I had actually done this to someone else. No matter how much he had tortured me, I felt incredibly guilty and full of regret. I was actually more worried about Trent's condition than I was about my own fate. The school had a zero-tolerance policy against fighting on school grounds, and I was sure they wouldn't be very lenient with me. And I also knew that my placement at the McCormacks' was based on my behaving well at school and maintaining good grades, as well as seeing a therapist. I'd been doing all of those things, except for now -- the first time I'd ever gotten in trouble at school. I should have felt some sense of pride that I had stood up to the school bully and given him a good 'ol fashioned beat-down, but I didn't. I just felt miserable. This wasn't the type of person I wanted to become. But the whirlwind of thoughts racing around in my head was interrupted by Officer Karen telling me that she was going to take me to the office, and that they would be calling Maggie in to have a discussion with the principal. I was too tired to protest or disagree ... I didn't really have anything to protest about, actually. So I just let her lead me out of the bathroom, down the halls, and into her office. I was grateful, and a little surprised, that she didn't slap the cuffs on me. I figured I'd wind up getting charged with all kinds of horrible stuff for beating the crap out of Trent like that. And I was scared about what would happen to me now. But for some reason, I was even more concerned that Trent would be okay. Despite everything he'd done to me, and how much of an asshole he was, I figured there had to be a reason for it, just like there was a reason for me being so closed off to everyone. And thinking about what might have caused Trent to become the type of person he was just made me feel more sad for him. Officer Karen sat down at her desk and asked me what happened, and I related the events as best as I could. I told her that Trent had cornered me in the bathroom, and that I had lashed out at him. I also told her I knew that I could have just walked away after the first shot to the groin, but I didn't, and instead kept pounding on him like some crazed beast. She surprised me again when she asked if I'd been bullied by Trent before, so I told her the truth. I told her about all the times I'd gotten shoved in the hallways, had my head flushed down the toilet, and the continual taunts and threats. It all just kept pouring out of me like word vomit. I was amazed that I didn't get yelled at, as she just sat there, carefully writing down everything I had to say. When Officer Karen was done with her "interrogation," she told me to wait there until she came back to get me. So I just sat there, lost in my own thoughts and misery, hoping that I wouldn't get sent to some home for delinquent boys -- which is what I figured I must be -- or worse yet, sent to jail.