You Scrub

Chapter Three

I feel my body shaken, violently, as a worried voice awakens me from a terrible nightmare. My eye lids are too heavy to lift, but I manage to halfway get them up.

It's Marceline.

"Hey, Gumboy, wake up! You're okay, just a little roughed up."

I try to smile, but I'm not sure it came out as a smile. Letting out a scoff, which eventually turns into a cough, I say "I think I was 'a lot' roughed up."

She chuckles, but it dies down in the quiet bathroom.

"Who did th-" she questions, but stops herself, "fucking Marshall."

Looking down, I see a bruise forming on my hand. How?-

"Sorry bubba" she says, putting an arm under mine, and helping me stand. "When I came back into the classroom everyone was freaking out, and one of the girls told me everything."

I feel her hand me my backpack, and gladly accept it.

Nodding, I grab onto the sink beside us, wanting to glance into the mirror. But as my eyes meet my reflection, everything crumbles.

A bruise is forming around my eye and on my cheek, but it's not just that. My clothes...dirt and blood stains stain the fragile fabric. I really liked this sweatshirt...tears spring to my eyes, but I wipe them.

"It's okay" Marceline says, trying to comfort me. "They'll go away soon, trust me, I've seen worse."

Shaking my head, I say "this is my favorite sweatshirt. Fionna made this for me."

Marceline gives me a look, before shaking it from her face.

"Look Gumboy, do you want me to take you home? I don't mind, in fact I'd recommend-"

"No" I interrupt, turning from the mirror, and toward her. "I can't let him win. That's what he wants, and I won't let this happen."

Sighing, I slowly pick up my shirt, wincing at the yellow bruise forming near my ribs. Lowering my shirt, I look back up to her.

"I won't let him win."

Smirking, she gives me a nudge. "I like you Gumboy, now let's get back to first period."

She walks beside me, as I struggle to walk straight. But I don't mention it, as I know she'd rush me home faster than I could say 'no'.

"Look at you" she chuckles, "it's only your first day and you already have bruises. Hah, you sure remind me of my brother!"

I roll my eyes, and ask "what's his name?"

She freezes her mouth for a second, giving me a hard look, before answering.

"Anthony."

I nod, unsure as to why she faltered, but choose to ignore it.

She opens the classroom door in front of me, slowly letting me in, as everyone (including the teacher) pause to see who interrupts their class. All females, within a 100 mile radius of me, gasp and rush to me.

"Gumball" a young blonde shouts, putting a hand to my cheek. It stings, but I only wince, quickly covering it with a smile.

"I'm alright" I gasp out, not very comfortable with all the hands touching me.

My eyes shift up, as I feel a cold stare on me, and I meet eyes with Marshall Lee, my bully.

He has a wild smirk on his face, as if taunting me with a challenge and I can't help but accept.

Without a seconds doubt, I look back down to the girls in front of me, muttering 'excuse me's and 'sorry', as I push past them.

I walk up to Marshall Lee, staring down at him in his weird seated position. His legs are crossed on top of his desk, his arms behind his head. The girl behind him struggles to see from behind his distracting position.

I sit in the empty seat beside him, wincing as my ribs shift uncomfortably in my body, but I adjust.

Turning to face forward, I place my backpack beside me.

Everyone just stares, unaware as to what to do, and I keep facing forward, until a thought crosses my mind.

"Hey" I whisper, turning to Marshall.

He rolls his eyes, giving me a sideways glance, as if I'm the dirt on his feet. He's practically shouting threats and insults at me, with his silent stares, but they don't hurt as much as the pain building in my body.

"Can you please put your arms down" I ask, being as polite as possible. "You're blocking her view, and I bet she wants to learn just as much as anyone else in this class."

He turns to the girl behind him, laying his head on her desk.

"Is that true" he asks, in a surprisingly polite way.

She turns red, but nods anyway.

Giving a few seconds to think, Marshall stands up, and says "lets rearrange our seats."

The girl quickly stands to her feet, her belongings somehow already packed up.

Marshall walks around her, hoping over the desks, and up to me. Picking me up by my collar, he leads me to his previous seat, shoving me down. As I turn back to him, I feel my backpack thrown onto my desk.

Looking over, I see the scared girl in my previous seat, and hear Marshall fall into the seat behind me.

Slowly turning around, I give him a stare, which I'm sure ranges from confusion to anger. He just cackles.

"Come on Teach! Let's learn about some calculus, shapes, or whatever the hell this class is about."

Everyone slowly falls into their seats, not saying a word, even the teacher gives no complaints, as she goes back to drawing on her whiteboard.

What the heck? Is everyone at this school scared of Marshall Lee?!

Giving one last look to Marshall I scoff.

"This is English, not Math."

I immediately want to kill myself after saying this, as I feel his stinky shoes near my ears the rest of the class, his chuckles haunting me for years to come.

Sometimes it's better to say nothing, than to say mean things.