Finding Answers

No

Jake

Tick, tick, tick, tick,
Tock, oh.
Tick, tick, tick, tick,
Tock, oh.
Give me space
Give me time
Give me a chance to find my lost mind.
Give me decisions
Give me leadership
Give me a way to save my sinking shi--
No.

--

"You're an idiot, you know that?" A deep chuckle rolled off his tongue. Was it too deep? I wouldn't know. I wouldn't remember. My head was spinning with bright lights and odd noises that came from the nurses room.

After they threw us on chairs beside the principal's door and practically told us to stay glued to our seats, they redeemed me stable enough to stand on my own two feet without becoming a new born doe. Though I refused to receive Tony's bag of ice for his own injuries, I still held the thing against my tired head to relieve at least a bit of pain.

Now I sat here with this unbearable pain in my head, in an empty hallway, when I could have been sitting in math using my brain to fix problems, and not have a problem myself.

"I could say the same about you."

Silence. Tony's mouth mimics the same as a mendacious politician; always talking with nothing good to say. It seems like everything he does, everything he says, a wave of chaos is soon to follow. It's a surprise that I'm the only one to get him to stop that motor mouth.

"What I did was necessary. I had a reason, Jake."

"I had a reason too: I heard bones breaking."

"Well does it look like I broke any bones?" Tony lifted his arms in frustration, showing off the small scratches and deepening purplish spots. He was damaged, but not broken.

I didn't even answer.

Tick, tick, tick, tick,
Tock, oh.
Tick, tick, tick, tick,
Tock--

"I'm sorry."

Did he really say that? It almost seemed like I was hearing things again.

"Look, I'm sorry! Say something! Jake, don't ignore me!"

"What time is it?" I mumbled.

My eyes were on the clock, but my mind couldn't see the numbers. A pulsing, painful tune yanked on my brain cords. Numbers became letters, black became white, hell, I couldn't even remember where we were. I held the ice hard against my head, hard enough that it would cause dents when I removed it.

"8:10."

"God," I groaned, hitting my head against the wall and twisting my legs under the chair.

"What?"

"Why this early in the morning, Tony? I could have been in math right now."

"I'm not the one who let his face turn into a punching bag. You didn't have to step in, you know. You're an idiot," he repeated, the amusement gone from his voice. "Now what are they gonna think? 'Tony let Gordon hit the special kid. The special kid got knocked right in the head. The special kid--"

He stopped, realizing that my closed eyes were letting drops of tears get through. He doesn't mean these things, I'm certain, but what am I suppose to think when he does say them? My sensitivity balances on a tightrope, and once it makes a move, I either keep going on the line or let myself fall.

I'm already this black, nervous, blue-eyed, weird looking kid. I don't need to remember that people call me special for the way I'm perceived.