Senior Slump Or Comeback Of The Year

A Bad Bet

Patrick had mastered the art of pretending nothing was wrong when everything was wrong when be was in ninth grade. He'd been beat up behind the gym by Mikey just for standing there. His face was scratched and his eye was black. But when his mother asked about it, he'd lied and told her he fell. Of course she didn't buy it. So he laughed and asked, what? You think I got beat up behind the bleachers or something? Making it seem like the most ridiculous thing in the world. His mother laughed with him and warned him to be careful where he walked.

That was the first of many instances when he'd have to pretend to be okay.

Today was no different. Except it was. Because this time Patrick wasn't smiling through a few bruises and scratches. There were no physical pains he had to pretend he didn't feel.  He wasn't hiding anything but hurt feelings.

Friday night he'd lost his virginity to Pete Wentz. The guy he'd been crushing on for only a week. The guy he'd known for only a week. With the term known being used very loosely.

The regret was consuming him entirely. Making him feel physically sick. He almost didn't come to school today. He was a thought away from spending his third day in a row bundled under his blankets, hugging his stuffed animal.

But he didn't let himself do that. Spending two days in a row crying over spilled milk was enough. He knew he was going to have to face Pete eventually. Might as well get it out of the way as soon as possible.

On his was to school he'd pictured all the ways it would go. Best case scenario, Pete confesses his never dying love for Patrick. Worst case scenario, Pete kicks his ass.

Patrick was betting on the latter.

He knew exactly what kind of guy Pete was. He was no different than Mikey, Meagan and Gerard. But Patrick ignored that for the night. He was stupid enough to let himself get comfortable around him. Idiotic enough to drink in a house full of people who hated him. Insane enough open his body up to a man who didn't love him. What a wicked way to lose the most precious thing he owned.

It wasn't like he could even blame it on being drunk. Sure he was a little under the influence, but he wasn't wasted or anything. He could barely walk up the stairs, but knew exactly what he was doing in that bedroom. Pete had just been so nice the entire night. Saying all the right things. Patrick convinced himself that Pete might actually care.

That was until he woke up the next morning to none other than Meagan Jane Camper standing over them. Her look was one of disgust and awe. Patrick was glad Pete suggested they put their clothes back on after they were done.

"I can't believe it. He was telling the fucking truth." She whispered more to herself than to him.

"What are you talking about?" Patrick glared at her. Lifting the blanket up under his chin to shield himself from her.

"Him being-" her mouth snapped shut before she could finish.

"Him being what?"

"Nothing."

"What?" Patrick demanded. Not thinking of the consequences of yelling at her.

The evil upturn of her lips was the first sign that it wasn't going to be a good thing. When Meagan smiled, bad things tended to happen.

"Him being brave enough to fuck the lamest, fattest kid in school." When Patrick didn't respond, she continued on. "He swore he'd take any dare, but I didn't know he'd go this far."

"D-Dare?"

"Of course it was a dare." She laughed. "You didn't think he actually liked you."

You didn't think he actually liked you. It was a mean thing to say. It was a terrible thing for Pete to do. Patrick wanted nothing more than to wake Pete up and kick his ass. But he couldn't fight. So he'd rushed out of that room to find Andy and go home. Like he should have that night.

When he came to school today, he definitely didn't expect Pete to be waiting at his locker. Lying about looking for him and asking for his phone number. Trying to prolong that little dare of his. But Patrick wasn't going to be a part of it anymore.

He was proud of himself for how normal he sounded during their short conversation. His voice didn't crack once. He said what he needed to say, and got the hell away from him as quickly as possible. Running to the closest bathroom, locking himself in a stall and letting the tears flow.