Absolute Zero

Chapter Two

2

Hiding in the bathroom probably wasn't Mordecaii's smartest idea, but he had to get away from Mr. McAvery. Even though it wasn't worth it, since Mr. McAvery knew that Andrew hit him, and was most likely going to tell social services or whatever anyway, he still stayed there, hidden in the third stall from the left.

Something on the stall wall caught his eye. Lifting his head, he examined it, and when he did an expression of utter shock settled onto his face; it was a drawing, and a bad one at that, of him, except he had cat ears and a tail, and other people had scribbled on him and had drawn normal teenage things on his body.

That was when he realized that there were similar drawings everywhere, on every wall, including the one behind the toilet. The words "freak" and "spazz" were the dominant ones used, but there were other, more vulgar ones as well. And... that handwriting... his friends...

He began to shake. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to calm himself down, but he couldn't... it was just... "Oh no, not here, not now, please..." he begged, gripping at his blue hair and rocking back and forth. But, unfortunately, it was too late; right there, in the bathroom stall, Mordecaii Malestoun had a full-on breakdown.

~

The tardy bell had rung half an hour ago, though Mordecaii hadn't heard it due to his breakdown, but now that it had worn off and he could move again, he checked his phone and saw the time. Immediately, he swore, whacked his head against the stall door for being such an idiot, and then left the bathroom. His first period class was only a short ways away, but the principal just happened to be walking that way, and saw him without his planner. "Hey!" He yelled, quickening his pace.

Mordecaii groaned silently, hiding his eye roll. "Where's your planner?" The principal asked him.

Tightening his jaw, Mordecaii answered, "I didn't bring one,"

Instantly the principal took out a pink slip from behind his back. "Lunch detention."

"Of course."

Lunch detention; Mordecaii had never been, and never wanted to ever again, not only because it was where all of the troublemakers hang out, but also because it was where Mordecaii's archenemy spent his lunch period. This guy, Emilio, absolutely hated Mordecaii with a passion unlike anything else. It was as if he devoted his life to making Mordecaii's a living hell. He was the spreader of rumors, the artist in the bathroom, the creator of a website about Mordecaii, the mastermind behind everything bad that had happened to him.

And the worst part is, our blue-haired friend had to sit exactly across from him on the other side of the room. "EVERYONE SIT DOWN AND SHUT UP OR YOU GO TO THE TIMEOUT ROOM!" The teacher yelled, taking out his phone. Faintly, Mordecaii could hear car tires burning out on pavement; the teacher was playing a game.

Around fifteen, seventeen minutes later, there was a knock at the door. iPhone game guy stood up and ordered everyone to sit, stay, and shut up, and then left. Commotion came from the other side of the room, but before Mordecaii could look a hand grabbed the back of his hair and whacked his head against the desk. Immediately, the hand released and he could move again. He could feel blood trickling out of his nose. The door opened, and the teacher came back inside. When he saw Mordecaii and his bloody nose, he let out a cry and raced to his side, calling for his TA to get the nurse. Out of the corner of Mordecaii's eye, he could see Emilio grinning wickedly.

~

The bell rang at two o'clock- the sweet, sweet sound of relief from that hellhole. Even though Mordecaii lived a couple miles from school, and it was raining, he ignored the honking of the buses telling kids to hurry up and walked down the sidewalk toward home. Unbeknownst to him, however, he was being followed... by his worst enemies... and they had brass knuckles.

About a mile and a half from home was an empty street, occupied by only a few people in the many houses that lined the road. Although Mordecaii had been down that way before, it looked different in the sunlight. Just as he was about to pass a weathered house, something hard hit him on the back, sending him sprawling to the ground. Wind gone from his chest, he gasped for air, wheezing. "Aww, did the widdle kitty hurt himself? Aww," Snickered a voice that was nails on a chalkboard to the slowly recovering blue-haired teen. "Get your ass up, freak,"

A solid kick to the stomach sent the air back out of Mordecaii's lungs. Before he could do anything, they were upon him; punching, kicking, pushing, yanking, twisting, anything that could hurt Mordecaii is what they did. But then, Mordecaii saw the flash of a knife, and his peculiar eyes widened. Emilio, seeing that Mordecaii had spotted his pocket knife, stood his full height and ordered his goons to stop. With a grin, he sneered, "Let's leave some scars, yeah?"

Dropping to his knees, he commanded, "Hold 'im down," which his lackeys did. Evil was glaring out of his eyes like lazers, boring holes into Mordecaii's own eyes and straight into his brain. Soon, Emilio's attention went from Mordecaii's face to his torso, which he revealed by lifting his hoodie and shirt. The body beneath was soft and thin, already speckled with bruises, cuts, scars and the occasional burn. Emilio seeked to add his own mark to the collection. "I think I'll put mine riiight here," his eyes flashed, "by this looong one." As he said that, he ran his knife down the scar he spoke of, which Mordecaii had gotten from, who else, his stepdad. Punishment for accidentaly scratching him. He struggled and pulled at his restrainers, but they wouldn't budge; frail as he was, these were football players and wrestlers. "Don't move," Emilio smiled, leaning in to Mordecaii's ear, "or I might stab you." Without warning, the knife sliced a line down the left side of Mordecaii's abdomen, causing him to cry out. Emilio certainly seemed to get a rise out of that, so he did it again, except slightly deeper and across his victim's chest above his bandaging. Mordecaii squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away; he would not give him the satisfaction of seeing him cry. Emilio hissed.

"HEY!" There came a loud yell, followed by the sound of a shotgun being cocked. "Get outta here! Go on, git! Before I call the cops!"

Emilio growled. "We ain't done here, freak. Not even close."

And then they were gone, sprinting down the sidewalk in the opposite direction from Mordecaii's house. Mordecaii himself laid where he was for a while, catching his breath as he bled profusely from his wounds. 'At least they didn't touch my piercings,' he thought with some relief. "Hey! Hey, kid! Are you-" The Good Samaritan screeched to a halt beside Mordecaii's "pain angel". "Oh snap, Mordecaii, holy crap." Came the surprised gasp of Michael the janitor.

"Hey," Mordecaii greeted bluntly, still not moving.

"Wh... what happened? Why were those kids...?"

Mordecaii shrugged.

Eyebrows dipped in concern, the black and curly-haired man helped his young friend up. Checking out his cuts, he stated, "I need to get you to a hospital. These need stitches."

Mordecaii shook his head, pulling down his hoodie and shirt. "No hospitals, I'll be fine."

"But-"

"I'm. Fine."

Wringing his wrists nervously, Michael's eyes darted around. "Alright. But, at least let me give you ride?" He put it as more of a question than a request.

"I said I'm fine, alright? Bye. Thanks for the help." Mordecaii yanked up his backpack and slung it on, irritably heading for home.