Leather Kisses

Leather Kisses. 15

The next morning, I was a mess. It was the second time this week that I didn't want to go to school. But unlike my birthday, I was avoiding one person in particular rather than hiding from everyone.

I hated myself. I had lost all sensibility, lit myself on fire, and watched as I burst into flames. From the beginning, I knew Dean wasn't an option.

Why, after all I had been through, did I jump on the chance to be with the first man who ever treated me with a little decency?

I skipped my shower, threw on a baggy sweatshirt, and tied my knotted hair into a messy ponytail. My stomach refused my morning bagel, so I went outside, and sat on the stoop while I waited for the bus. But to my surprise, Dean pulled up on his motorcycle.

"Hey," Dean mumbled with dark, sorrow filled eyes. "Hope you don't mind that I brought the bike."

"Nope," I sharply replied, as I strapped the helmet onto my throbbing head.

I climbed onto the seat, hanging as far back as possible. I couldn't bring myself to wrap my arms around his waist. The engine came to life, humming as it sat in neutral.

"Riley, I need you to hold on."

I scowled, and inched forward, digging my fingers into his sides. Dean didn't push for more, so he took off. As soon as we got to school, I rushed inside before Dean got the chance to restart the conversation.

I looked back once, just to see Dean glumly lingering behind, with his hands stuffed deeply in his dark jeans. He looked guilty, and I knew that he was blaming himself for what happened. Dean didn't deserve this because it wasn't his fault, but I wanted him to feel the pain I was feeling. It wasn't right . . . scratch that, it was cruel, but I needed to know that I wasn't the only one suffering in this world.

As the day went on, the suffering got worse.

Mr. Richards started chemistry class by handing back our graded tests from yesterday. When Mr. Richards came by Dean's desk, he told him to see him after class so he could make up the exam. My day went from bad to awful in just a few seconds. On top of my exam, next to my name, was my first D- in crimson red ink.

"Come see me after class," Mr. Richards mumbled before moving on.

The rest of the class was a complete blur.

The bell finally rang, and within moments, it was just Mr. Richards, Dean, and me. Dean lingered at his desk, letting me go up first. I made the walk of shame up to my teacher's desk, clutching my failure tightly in my hand.

"Riley, I don't know what happened," Mr. Richards said sympathetically. "You're one of my best students, so I'm surprised. Did you not understand the material?"

"I thought I did . . ."

"I see, well did you sleep poorly the night before? Were you distracted by something?" His persistent questions were not something I was willing to answer, so I grumbled in response. "Is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," I quickly replied, avoiding his inquisitive eyes. I resisted the urge to look back at Dean.

Everything was fine. I wasn't being abused anymore, I wasn't dying, I wasn't living on the street and selling my body for money.

For once, I was living like an average teenager, facing average teenage problems. Surprisingly, teenage drama affected me much more than any of the other shit I had to go through. Strange how rejection from a crush destroyed me inside, but abuse from a boyfriend only fazed me.

"Are you sure? You haven't been acting like yourself."

"What makes you say that?" I snapped, cocking my head to the side.