Mocked: A Marcel Fanfic

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

I sleep through majority of Saturday and then study Sunday away. I throw the borowed clothes into the dark portion of my closet and never look at them again. Throughout the entire weekend, I focus solely on my schoolwork and getting Mother to trust me again, both of which wear me out. By Sunday afternoon it becomes apparent that Mother has her doubts in me, but is also working towards gaining back trust between us. She lets me eat at the table and keep my car, saying that my studious behavior has shown her that I've gotten past my short rebellion stage. 

So by Monday morning, I'm dressed in some new clothes that Mother bought me Sunday and in class on time. My light blue long sleeve button up shirt is completely buttoned, a red bowtie around my neck, giving my outfit that bit of color. My black slacks are pulled up high, making sure securely hold my shirt down beneath it. The black dress shoes I wear have no comparison to the crap pair of converse stashed in my closet. My curls have been once again gelled back into the style it has always been. My large glasses are placed on my face, clarifying the world around me. And what I see doesn't change. 

The school is filled with bullies, students and staff alike. Cruelty fills the halls as I'm shoved around. Laughter becomes my best friend. The floor is the only safe thing to look at. I recognize a bunch of my bullies as the guys who welcome Clark Parker with open arms. They don't even think that I can be that other guy, the one they seemed to enjoy. 

Life really sucks and Veronica doesn't say a word to me to assure me otherwise. So I'm just alone. Again. As always. 

In English class I keep my head down and refuse to enter into discussion along with everyone else. When asked to choose Capulet or Montague, I feign a headache and ask Professor James to let me sit out. Since he knows I'm a top student, he believes my lies and grants me my wishes. 

When the bell rings I make the mistake of leaving the classroom early, throwing myself into the lockered hallways with everyone else. I hold my books to my chest, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone. Maybe if I just pretend to not be here, they would let me disappear under their radar. 

"MARCEL!" My heart pounds louder as feet come stomping towards me. I stare at the ground between us. "MARCEL, I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR ME!" I shouldn't have hoped for peace too soon. I knew they'd come around. 

I'm shaking, scared about the possible confrontation that is going to happen. I take a deep breath and look up, forcing myself to look at my enemy. 

It's Vic, a completely sober version, but also a stranger. He doesn't know that the guy he partied with just a few days ago is standing in front of him. Or if he does, he doesn't make an effort to show it. 

"What do you want?" I ask and they all howl at each other, their fists banging against other fists and the lockers. The sound of punching metal makes my bones quiver.

"He speaks! I'm impressed. Maybe that whole working for the football team afterschool has given you a bit of confidence," Vic gleams at me, his eyes narrowing to slits. "We wouldn't want that, now would we boys?" The guys around him shake their heads, yelling profanities about how I had to learn my place. 

I back up, forcing down the lump in my throat. Please, I just want to get through one day without having someone hurt me. I look back down at the ground as the school bell rings around us. Now I'm late to class as well. 

"Do you know what happens to guys like you who think they can suddenly make a leap in the social chain? Do you know what happens when you try to sever ties? Become a lone ranger? Become that single outcast that no one wants to be around?" Vic rambles, but his words only glide over my head. I can only think of getting away from them. 

"Maybe you can enlighten me," I mutter under my breath. 

"I've always admired Veronica and her little games. Always told her that if there was one person she shouldn't add to her little collection, it was you. Seeing her sticking up for you at the football practices were enough to drive me crazy. Did you know that? That she collects you like toys?" Vic sneers at me, using my silence to his advantage. I didn't know what he was talking about. "You see-."

"-Vic, quit messing around and just beat his fucking face in already. Don't make me quicken this process," one of the guys behind him slaps his shoulder, egging him on to do the deed that they've apparently already planned out. 

I stare at them all, looking over at each and every individual in front of me. Five guys, each one of them obviously a jock, their toned bodies apparent even through their clothing. Vic stands in front of them all, his eyes steadily eyeing me. 

And then the thoughts fill my head. Why do I let these guys run my life? Why do I fear them and what they do to me? Why do I, Harry Styles, take each and every one of their punches without even fighting back? 

It's got to stop and the only way it will is if I toughen up and defend myself. 

So I toss my books on to the ground and bring my fists up. I don't know what I'm doing or even why, but I know one thing for damned certain. I will not fall without landing a punch of my own. 

Vic whistles at me, his eyebrows shooting up as if impressed with my sudden challenging stance. "So, Marcel wants to play a game, does he?" Vic taunts, his mouth curling up into a snide smirk. "Bring it on."

Vic dashes towards me, ending the small five feet gap between us, and I see his fist fly out towards me. I can't explain it, but I duck down at the last second, his fist only grazing the top of my head. His guy friends gasp. 

I feel empowered. I am actually standing up for myself. 

I straighten back up, readying my fists, and I swing. 

I don't get a hit, but I feel one. Right against my left eye. 

And then I fall.