In Need of Earl Grey

Chapter Six

    The next day I wake up feeling like crap. My throat is sore, my arms ache and I don't feel like doing anything. Try. I promised I would try. I try to get motivated, try to make this morning better than the previous, try to be human. Everyday seems like a drag like this for the next few weeks. A dull, present less  Christmas passes and this bothers me much less than the furious snow storms that follow. School is called off time and time again locking us in our own little corner of the town.
    "We are gonna have long make up days in the summer," Micah tells me one morning in January.
    "Seriously," My voice catches and flutters on the last two syllables of the word. I clear my throat embarrassedly. Micah pretends not to hear it. Once at the bus stop I smell myself. Under the mask of my deodorant is the stench of my own sweat. Sweat? In the frosty frozen air of a crystallized January? The bus arrives and I ignore the perspiration.
     "Hi, Drew," Catherine and Ella wave.
     "Hi, Catherine," Again my voice pitches itself higher than normal. The girls giggle.
     "This is going to be a bad day," I mutter.
     "Keep your head high man," Todd whispers from the seat behind me. I wedge myself deeper into the corner.

     Once at school I hurry to my locker, fanning myself repeatedly. I take off my jacket and stuff it in my locker. Damp patches are spread under my arms. Great. Freaking amazing. They dry, mostly. I go to math and keep my head down. Opening the textbook I realize that I had totally drooled on my homework. It was late when I had finished it and I had fallen asleep at my desk. The words were smeared but legible.
    "Take out you homework, I'm gonna check it," Mr. J says brandishing his red pen and clipboard. Mr. J walks over to my table first.
    "Little tired were we, Drew?" Laughs as he checks the assignment. The girls across from me look at me with a look of disgust. I sweat nervously. When class is over I bolt from the room and into the boys bathroom. I splash cold water on my face and try to calm down and stop sweating. I here a stall on the left flash and out steps Micah.
"Micah!" I sigh, "Thank goodness,"
"Drew?"
"Look, I need a favor,"
"What?"
"I need to use your deodorant,"
"What?"
"Please! I'm dying here!" I lift my arm and show him the massive pit stains.
"Dude, sharing deodorant is, like, disgusting,"
"Come on Micah we don't have much time," I get on my knees in front of him and beg. Someone walks into the bathroom and after giving us a strange look he walks out quickly.
"Get up." Micah yanks me to my feet. Micah sighs and shakes his head, "Fine. We have to go to my locker, like, now," He washes his hands and we sprint, but not really because no running in the halls, to his locker and he lends me his deodorant.
"We are not telling this to anyone," Micah says.
"Deal."
For the most part the deodorant works, but there's nothing to cover up my insanely high voice cracks. For example, in gym class we are in the soccer unit and I was goalie for our indoor soccer match. As usual the gym teachers paid no attention, they only care if someone gets hurt. Most of the popular guys that had oh so enjoyed teasing me during the volleyball unit liked creaming smaller guys like me in all the other sport units as well. Parker Sesti, one of the shorter of the jocks came towards the goal in soccer. I could handle Parker, no biggie. But when Parker passed the ball to Chase Mathais I knew I was in for a killing. Chase is a little over 6 feet and has no qualm utter defeating whatever stands in his way. Chase kicked the ball with all his 14 year old fury and missed. The ball flew over the three foot goal, bounced of the brick wall, and hit me in the back of the head. I fell flat on my face. The ball rolled its way back to Chase where he then again power slammed the ball towards the goal and missed again, instead hitting me directly in the face.
I mean after the first miss you would think he tone back and again after hitting me in the face right? Wrong! He kicked again! This time he made it. He pounded his chest and his team jumped up and down in victory. When Mr. Spod noticed my immediately blackening eye he called me over.
    "What's that?"
    "Not a bruise, sir," I says sarcastic.
    "How'd you get it?" He looks unimpressed.
    "Are you kidding me? I just got it, here, like right now!" I squeak.
    "Are you yelling?"
    "Yeah, I am!"
    "You can either calm down or take a lunch detention,"
    I blow an angry breath and breathe in slowly, "I got hit in the face with the ball by that freaking goliath over there," I nod towards Chase as he fires another shot pass our replacement goalie, Adam Noice.
    "Why'd you block with your face?" I could not believe the stupidity of this man right now.
    "I didn't. He kicked it at my face."
    Mr. Spod stood and blew his whistle. All game play stopped and everyone stared at him.
    "Mr. Mathais," Chase came over, "Did you kick the ball at Mr. Swoush's face?"
    "No sir," he lied, "He was on the ground when the ball hit him,"
    "Is this true?" Spod questioned me.
    "Well," I clear my throat and lower my voice, "yeah but-"
    "So you were just tattling to get him in trouble?"
    "I wasn't tattling, you called me ov-"
    "Mr. Swoush I will not tolerate lying in my class. Go get dressed, you're done for the day."
    "Pfft, I didn't wanna play anyway," I mutter as I go to the locker room and change.
    After gym I go to my locker and see Chase and his buddies hanging around. I open my locker cautiously and Chase slams it closed before I can put my stuff in it. He laughs with his buddies and they go to lunch. I open my locker again.
    "Hey,"
    I jump a mile high only to sees Catherine beside my locker. She wearing ripped jeans that show her thighs and knees and a shirt that's so low I'm pretty sure it limbos under dress code.
    "Hey," I say.
    "I was gonna say how's your day going but by the looks of your face..."
    "Yeah I'm not exactly on top of the world right now," I laugh. It hurts the bruised side of my face.
    "Who'd you fight?"
    "Fight? Me? I fought a giant monster," I say jokingly.
    She giggles, a truly wonderful and extraordinary sound of an angel, "Ooooh was it scary?" She returns the banter.
    "Terrifying, it tried to rake its claws across my chest," I say slamming my locker for emphasis.
    "Oh no," She puts her hand on my chest and I pray she doesn't feel my heart stop. "Are you okay?" She bites her lip and the dark red lipstick gleams at me.
"Yeah," I say.
"So what really happened?"
"Hit in the face by Chase during soccer."
"Did you cry?"
"Nah, I took the balls like a man," I cringe at the way that sounds.
"Oh did you?" Catherine laughs. She pushes off my chest and heads to class, "Catch you later, Drew," I sigh and head to lunch.