Chapter 3
Matthew left me alone for awhile after that, but then again I avoided him at all costs. Avoiding him was difficult, especially since we shared the same locker, and even some of the same classes. I stayed after practice every chance I could to help clean up everything. I told the head coach that I would do this everyday, and he nodded then turned away. I think he hates me too. That’s why he forced me to clean up everything when I asked for one day off. The day that Matthew got in trouble, for something stupid I am sure, and was put on clean up duty for the day. It was two days before our first game, and Matthew had to stay to clean up the bathroom stalls and shower.
When I finished cleaning up outside the locker room was very quiet. There were only about eight other players in there, and none of them seemed to notice me. They could ignore me all they wanted, just so long as Matthew wasn’t one of the water sounds I heard from inside the bathroom.
No such luck. I was trying to get my stuff together so I could leave quickly without being noticed. Unexpectedly I thought I saw Matthew exiting the showers with a towel around his waist. I was unsure at first, because the shower room was billowing with steam, and then I was certain. He nearly ran over just so he could strip off his towel in front of me, and leaned forward as if acting to get something from the locker. I knew what he was trying to do so his shriveled dick did not come anywhere near me.
“Stop looking at my dick, you loser.” Kind of weak for someone who usually nicknamed me something with ‘gay’ attached to it. He stood on the large cement block used as seats around the lockers, and acted like he was searching in the shelf above the locker. “Quit looking you fag.”
That was all it took for something in me to finally burst. I shoved his naked body away from me, and he flailed off the large cement block. He landed with his head hitting another cement block in the center of the locker room. A few of the players ran to his side to help him.
“What the hell’s your problem?” one of them asked in a frightened outrage.
Honestly, I was saddened to find out that he was still alive. Can you really blame me? This creep picked on me everyday, mercilessly. I finally fought back and I get yelled at. How come no one stood up for me? It was always some great joke when he called me gay or accused me of staring at him. When I retaliated, no one treated it like a joke. In fact, everything was different and they actually seemed serious. Well, as serious as jocks can be. I ran out of the locker room after I grabbed my things. I did not turn back and I did not stop running until I got far away from that school.
It was then that I realized I was crying. Tears were dripping down my face and suddenly I was pissed again. How can I let myself cry over that creep? I doubted that’s why I was crying, because I was more worried about what would be said about the situation. And what if he had died? Could I have ended up in jail? Maybe I still could. Thankfully it started to rain, so anyone who drove past me wouldn’t know for sure if I had tears streaming down my face or just droplets of rain.
There were so many questions in my head and I soon found myself asking completely different questions. Why had my parents never picked me up? They knew I needed to be picked up, but they never showed up, and I never really expected them to. Why did that bother me then, when I never let it before?
It was then that I snapped back into reality and heard a horn honking in front of me. I also realized that I had stopped walking, probably around the time I started questioning my parents’ actions. There in front of me was a car honking every couple of seconds pulled over to the side of the road. They honked once more and then motioned for me to move forward.
