Family Line

one

Charlie's POV 

"FIGHT, FIGHT, FIGHT!" Chants appeared around me as a strong hit finally takes me out to the ground. I fall on my stomach, placing my hands down in front of me like that'll stop anything. People scream and people cheer as I lay there. My eyes opening and closing for a moment as I shake my head. A strong kick to the side of me sends me flying over onto my back letting out a groan of pain. Laughter fills my ears as the sound of a whistle appears repeatedly.

"Watch your back Emerson!" The kid who started the fight shouts before I feel something wet hit my face. I slowly reach up my hand and wipe at my face feeling wetness. I shut my eyes and shake my head. Asshole spit on me.

A low sigh escapes my lips as I feel hands appear on my arm and grab my hand.

"Charlotte Emerson," that voice. That one voice I've heard for so long. I get up to my feet, opening my eyes to find Counselor Winston Patel with another administrator.

"It's Charlie," I say back to him, stepping away from the administrator who helped me up. I shake my head and reach up my hand to my lip feeling blood.

"Charlie, you okay?" Mr. Patel asks and I shrug.

"I'm fine," I respond, dropping my hand from my face and looking to Mr. Patel. He stood tall. His hair was buzzed per usual. His eyes a glimmering dark brown and always that crooked small smile traces his lips whenever he speaks to me.

He cocks his head to the side and looks towards the other administrator, giving her a nod. I, on the other hand, reach down grabbing my book bag and swing it over my shoulder, gripping it tightly.

"Let's get you to the nurses office and I'll call your-"

"You don't need to call her," I say, swiftly cutting the man off. I look at him. Our eyes meet and I see that look. The look he always gives me when I always tell him he doesn't need to call my mother. There's no reason too. She most likely won't pick up. Too busy doing whatever the hell she does for work. We have the type of relationship where I stay on my own, do the best I can. She sends money when she's away, enough to keep me alive. And when she's home, she tries to start conversations like we're kid and mother but it seems forced nowadays. And it's to the point where I just don't care to know her. I barely even know her to begin with.

"You sure I don't need to call her?" Mr. Patel asks and I nod.

"I'm sure and I don't need the nurse. I'll be fine, like always," I say, turning on my heels, heading away from the man.

"Charlie, you know it's okay to accept help every now and then!" Mr. Patel speaks up and I ignore him. "I need the name of the kid who did that to you Charlie!"

"I'm not a snitch!" I shout back, tossing up my hand heading back into the school. The halls weren't crowded. It was mainly just seniors in the halls during first period. The school decided seniors didn't need a first period and just said come in at 2nd. Lucky bastards.

I make my way down the hall and head straight for the bathroom. I walk in and gently duck to see under the stalls. When I know I'm in here alone I walk over to the sinks and take off my bag, setting it down by my feet. My eyes follow it though and see the mismatched tiles of the school and my beat up, worn black and white vans. I shake my head and look up, seeing myself in the mirror.