The Black Eye

Mistake

***********Not Edited***********

I lie awake, unable to sleep, because of the black eye the bullies at school gave me. Earlier that day, I rushed to the orphanage with toilet paper on my eye. I told anyone who asked that my contacts were bugging me. I had ran straight to the bathroom and shut the door. I stood there, searching through the drawers, trying to find anything that might help. My only option was to create an eyepatch.

I folded another wad of toilet paper and taped my shoelace to it. After
sizing my eyepatch so that it was just right, I left the bathroom. I share a room with two older boys: Max and my brother, Ryan.

I don't understand how we are related. We're so different. He's tall and I'm short. He has blond hair and I have brown. His eyes are blue. My eyes are brown. He is popular and I am not, but no matter our differences, Ryan actually treats me like a person and I know I can always talk to him.

When I walked into the room, Ryan's happy face was wiped away to concern. "What up, bro? Why the eyepatch?"

I didn't answer. 'Unapproachable Max' was there.

"Oh," Ryan said, "Hey Max, could you give us a minute?"

Max left the room and Ryan turned to me. "What did they do this time?"

I had to fight back my tears as I told my only brother what happened; how I had stood back up when he pushed me down; how powerful I felt when I grabbed my lunch back; the fear and sadness I felt as I was given a reward: my black eye.

"Wow," he said when I'd finished, "That's some tough stuff."

"What am I going to do now?" I squeaked.

"where your black eye tomorrow with your head held high," he advised, "If anyone asks, keep walking. Chicks dig that mysterious stuff." I tried to visualize how hard that would be. "We better get to bed, Mathew," Ryan said, "You've got a big day ahead of you."

I envied Ryan for that. He seamed so sure about everything. I hope I'm that wise when I'm 17. I pulled on my pajamas and got into bed. "Being 13 stinks," I whispered as I drifted asleep.

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I woke the next morning with my mind still buzzing with my last dream; I had been Superman. I rubbed my eyes and pain shot from my left, jolting my memory back to yesterday.

I stretched my arms and legs at full length before standing up. I slipped out of my red footie pajamas and pulled on khaki shorts and a maroon shirt. I pushed my glasses up my nose, confident the bullies would give my eyes a break for today.

I brushed my teeth and put on my backpack. I headed to the side walk and started my journey to school with a cereal bar that went on it's own little journey to my stomach.

As I walked, my brother's plan echoed in my scull like a broken record. A small part of me was afraid I'd chicken out and tell some lie to cover up the true story of how I received my black and blue accessory.

I stopped at the crosswalk that led to school. I stood there, frozen like a statue. What if I can't do it? What if the bullies make my other eye black and blue?

I shook my head, knocking that train of thought off its tracks, and kept moving. Don't think, I told myself, don't think.

I pushed open the school's front doors and walked into the brick building. My eyes darted around, searching for the bully who gave me my black eye. When I didn't see him, I gathered all my confidence and started moving toward class.

I locked my stare on the line where the wall and ceiling met. By bringing my right foot in front of my left, I started walking to class. I was well aware of the whispers around me. To my horror, someone came up to talk to me.

"What happened to your eye?" Whispered a sweet voice. I stopped in my tracks, realizing who it was. I turn my head for a glance. The girl I have liked since the first grade stood beside me. She was as beautiful as ever. Her soft, red hair fell to her soldiers. The navy blue dress she wore made her look like a mermaid. The freckles on her nose and cheeks made me melt. She never wore makeup but her lips looked extra red. Our eyes met and I stared into chocolate milk diamonds.

My throat went dry when I saw her face showed only one emotion: worry. Even if I wanted to speak, I couldn't. I compromised by nodding my head and returned my gaze to the wall ahead of me. I walked, feeling like a monster for the way I ignored Natalie. She probably hates me now.

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I stood staring at the social studies classroom door. I knew the bully was waiting on the other side. I reached for the handle with a shaky, sweaty palm. The handle was cold to the touch. I held my breath and opened the door. Four rows of desks stood there facing the opposite wall to me. Dry erase boards and maps covered the vanilla walls.

My heart skipped a beat when I saw who was sitting in the teachers desk: a square headed figure with black hair and a big nose. He stared at the computer screen with evil, green eyes. George scrolled over the google images of bikini models. Gross!

I realized I was holding my breath and let it out all too fast. George's head snapped around towards me and for a moment, he looked guilty surprised before he spread his lips into a murderous smile. "Well, well, well," he said.

I did the smart thing.

I took off out the door and sprinted down the hallway, my backpack bouncing on my back. I weaved through the 'Wandering Students of the Halls' and slammed my body into the bathroom door. I quickly swung around the corner and locked myself in a stall. I backed onto the toilet, wanting to get as far away from the door as possible. I breathed hard. My heart banged on my rib cage as it tried to escape. Adrenaline swam through my veins.

I heard the creak of the bathroom door's hinges and almost jumped into the toilet. Lazy feet stomped on the cement and into the stall next to mine. I heard the click of a lock. Lights danced on the floor below me.

What?

I cautiously stepped off the toilet and peered at the new comer's shoes: pink Sketchers. I stood back onto the toilet and gulped. I'm in the girl's bathroom.