Do You Read Me?

Chapter 3- A Little Flame, A Little Friction

Johnny shook his hair back into place with a few wags of his head. After a few quick strokes through his hair with  his fingers, it was finally out of his eyes. He tilted his head, observing himself in the mirror: something he didn’t do too often.

He was a happy kid--it showed through the color in his cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes. Even his complexion, a healthy peach with some sunbrowning here and there, complemented his well being. His silky, black hair sung brightly as only an addition; sure, he kept it flopsy-mopsy-cottontail, but that seemed to add even more personality.  

Everyone said that he and this...Robbie Sherman...looked alike. Johnny couldn’t agree, though he often said that he did.

Johnny lifted his eyes to see Robie’s reflection in the mirror, from the other end of the locker room. He was sitting on the floor trying to make sense of his shoe laces, way in the back and out of the way of the other boys.

Robbie seemed to be everything that Johnny wasn’t. He was thin, even for a bean pole: you could see his ribs and cheek bones a bit too clearly; His complexion was completely out to lunch, and when you looked into his eyes, it was like peering down into a deep, blue abyss. To add to that, he walked around as if he was some sort of...ghost -- it was like Robbie wasn’t fully on Earth. Something just wasn’t right. Robbie was sick in in body and spirit, but Johnny couldn’t say why. He’d never seen anything quite like him, but was Johnny the only one who could see it at all?

“Hey, has anyone seen my gym shirt?” A  boy named james asked finally, who had already been searching for several minutes.

“It’s over there, by Dylan and Robbie’s Lockers,” Johnny shouted over his shoulder. He realized he would be late for gym class if he waited any longer, which was encouraging enough to make him double his speed.

“Thanks, man,” James said briefly, as he tugged his sneakers on. “Robbie, get me my shirt.”

Robbie looked up, eyes in a daze. He looked around to find the person who’d called him.

“What are you waiting for? Get me my shirt, stupid!”

“Oh,” Robbie said softly. He looked left, but found the wadded shirt on his right, and with untied shoes, he stumbled up to James and handed him his shirt.

Without giving Robbie any recognition, he pulled on the shirt and disappeared out the door. Now Johnny and Robbie were the only ones left in the locker room.

“Aw, gummit,” Robbie muttered as he realized that the five-minute bell had already rung. He plopped down onto the floor where he stood, and continued to untangle the mess of laces.

“Dang, what happened to your gym shoes?” Johnny wanted to know, crouching down next to him.

“Nick took them and knotted them up,” Robbie explained in exasperation.

“...Why would he do that?”

Robbie shrugged. “For kicks, I guess. He does stuff like that to kids like me all the time-- I honestly don’t get it, either.”

Johnny scoffed. “Man, does everybody pick on you?”

“Ah…”Robbie rolled his eyes up to the ceiling in thought for a moment, just before he dropped them down again to focus on his laces. “Pretty much.”

Johnny shook his head. Sure, guys like James and Nick were pretty cool--until you got in a pushover’s  shoes. “Why do you let them use you as a doormat?”

Robbie scoffed. “You may think so, but you don’t know a thing about me.” He gave up and just started tucking the laces into his shoes. “It’s not a matter of letting them. They do it because they can. Because they’re bigger and stronger than me. They’ll beat me up if I get out of line!”