Sticks and Stones

Chapter 2

Ten minutes later a familiar red Volkswagen jerked to a stop by the curb. I opened the door of the bug and folded myself into the passenger seat. The air inside was filled with the scent of fresh baked croissant rolls and honey glazed ham. Rory dug through the piles of stuff in the back for a moment before dropping an oil-stained paper bag into my lap. As he pulled away from the sidewalk I opened the bag and unwrapped one of the sandwiches. The smell was heavenly. I tore into it hungrily, half of it gone before we had even made it down the road.

“Thank you.” I managed through a mouthful of ham, egg, and cheese. Rory grinned.

“No worries. I know how you get after your weekend fasts.” Weekend fasts, the term we’d adopted for my weekly starvation. Rory was one of the only people who knew my secrets, the extent of my father’s abuse. Weekends meant I went hungry more often than not. It least during the school week I was allowed to buy lunches through a carefully monitored account. Water not milk, cold sandwiches not the hamburgers most kids bought. If my account dwindled too fast there would be hell to pay, but still it was food.

“There are three more for you in there. Save the last for Jess or there’ll be blood.” He said without looking at me. I knew how hard it was for him to ignore how I lived.

“Tell your mum I said thanks.” I said, already unwrapping another sandwich. Rory’s family owned one of the local coffee shops so his mum’s cooking was to die for.

“Anything for her ‘little boy’s best friend,” Rory grinned, voice slipping into a perfect imitation of his mother’s at the end. Just like that the tense air was broken and the stiffness seeped out of the car. Rory reached over and turned on the radio, Cold Play a much softer background than my previous Disturbed. I stared out the window watching the houses of Tucker’s Ridge slowly come to life. I wonder if any of them are just as broken as me behind the manicured lawns and white picket fences.

***

The school sign was bland as was the building itself. Plain brick that was probably nice when they built it but now held the evidence of too many storms and too many kids and windows that never were clean no matter how often they washed off the grime. The snarling marble effigy of our mascot guarded what little grass we had out front.

“Go home,” the timber wolf’s blank eyes told me, “You don’t belong here.” I rested my head against the cool glass of the car window. I couldn’t agree more. Rory smacked the back of my head.

“Don’t get face prints on my baby.” He scolded. I rolled my eyes.

“Yes, mum.” I mocked, but still lifted my head away from the icy bliss. I’d have to get out soon enough anyway. Rory parked the bug in the same spot as always, the only one out of sight of the parking lot cameras. I got out, slinging my worn canvas backpack over a shoulder and grabbing the sandwich bag. I started towards the main entrance, Rory catching up to me in a few strides. I’d never been as tall as most of the boys in my grade, always a few inches shorter, maybe because I was a whole year behind them. Or maybe I’m destined to be short forever. As we reached the doors I hesitated for a moment, only a fraction of a second really, but it was enough for Rory to pick up on. He nudged my shoulder.

“You’ll be fine.” I glanced at him, never surprised at how well he understood me. I took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy metals doors to hell. The dull roar of thousands of conversations bombarded my ears and I inwardly winced. The narrow corridors were far too packed, though every guy in the vicinity and most of the girls backed up when I passed. As if being gay was catching. Today though, it seemed as if the avoidance was more second nature than outright malicious. I tuned in to exchanges as we passed, each holding a trace of the same story.

“Did you hear about the new guy?”

“I did! I heard he came from military school. He got kicked out for shooting another kid.”

“I heard that too! I think his name is Kyle.”

“No you’re wrong, his name is Connor. And he just got released from jail.”

“Caleb…”

“Chris…”

“In the witness protection program…”

After the first few minutes I stopped listening. I silently thanked whoever this newcomer to Tucker’s Ridge High was. Even though he would inevitably come to hate me like everyone else, for now at least the focus was off me. Rory and I met up with Jessabell by our lockers next to the elevator, which was supposed to be staff and handicap only, but Rory made a copy of the key back in freshman year when he fractured his ankle playing soccer. She threw herself at me, as full of energy as ever. I caught her mid-tackle and sucked in a breath as I rocked back on my feet. She heard it and froze, eyes wide.

“Oh I’m sorry, Benny. I didn’t mean to…” Jess’s voice trailed off as her hands dropped to her sides. Her sadness hurt much worse than her ill-timed hug. Though she was a year older, I thought of Jessabell more like my younger sister.

“It’s ok, Jess. I’m just a little stiff is all.” I gave her a much gentler hug and handed her the sandwich from Rory’s mum. She smiled a little at me and I felt better. I opened my locker and grabbed my collection of Shakespeare plays for my British Literature class. Jess was smiling, no one had decided to play shove the fag in a locker, and I’d avoided my father. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all. I shut my locker door and steeled myself for an hour of Ms. Thomas’s droning voice.

“Benjamin Hale, please report to the main office using the doors off the lobby. Benjamin Hale.” The sickly sweet voice of the office receptionist blared over the loudspeaker. I looked back at Rory and Jess, both of whom just shrugged.

Fuck.