The Anatomy of a Parody Heart

freak

"Watch your head there, freak!"

The paper ball sails past, just out of Enzo's reach. He doesn't duck.

Freak.

Tyler McCannan has swung round in his seat in front of Enzo. He catches the ball. Grins.

"Don't wanna hurt your pretty face now, do we? You look like such a goddamn sissy. Gem must've thought she had another sister when she first met you."

"Can you even get hurt?" Ryan leans forward in his own seat. Scrutinises him. "Or is it just another one of your freaking immunities?"

Ryan used to be his best friend, at pre-school. Nursery. Whatever. They would do everything together. Make Playdough. Cut out shapes. Draw cars.

They even learnt to write together.

Not that he would believe that now.

"Shut up," he says. Softly.

Ryan has already tested this theory. Him and Tyler and a couple of other boys, ambushing him on his way home from school, in year six. They beat him to a pulp; beat him until he was bloody and snotty and crying, and everything burnt in a way that he never thought it could before. They were delighted to see him cry. It was yet another one of their theories - yet another messed-up, screwy idea that made Enzo sick to the bone.

The fact that Ryan is floating around this theory again suggests to Enzo that he is itching to have something to do. Something interesting to do.

Enzo picks up his phone - the phone that he borrowed from Gem - the one phone that they have between them. 

Shoves in his headphones. Gem's headphones.

Turns the volume all the way up.

And, silently watching the clock on the classroom wall tick away the seconds, spends the rest of the lesson trying to be as quiet and uninteresting as possible, while hiding his shaking hands beneath the desk.

It is easier than he had thought it would be. The teacher didn't mind him listening to music, but only because it was study, and boring, and it gave him an excuse to keep his head down, not talk - which the teachers always like. The teachers don't like the talkers. Which is fine by Enzo. He doesn't like the talkers either.

Ryan and Tyler don't try to goad him again all lesson. They can't - not without shouting at the top of their lungs over his music. Risky, even for them.

Enzo keeps his head down, in response.

Hoping. Hoping.

When the bell rings, he is the first one out of the classroom. Head down. Shaking hands.

He doesn't feel scared. He doesn't feel anything. But his body reacts as if he is. His body reacts as if he is terrified out of his mind.

Shaky. Sweaty.

Terrified.

Sick.

Sick to the bone.