Warning: bad language and some angst (?)
Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly... - Proverb
Anyone who had ever said that growing us was hard was completely correct. Anyone who had ever stated that kids could and would be cruel were equally truthful. And to those who had experienced the worst of the worst and still managed to share their horrific stories with others were fucking saints, as far as Mitch was concerned. He definitely wasn't about to spill his guts to anyone, especially his parents. What would they know, anyway? They hadn't prepared him for this. Weren't parents supposed to warn their children about the dangers of the world? Sure, his folks had told him about natural disaster. 'Stay away from rushing water,' they had said. 'If a fire happens, you need to stop, drop, and then roll. Don't mess with the chemicals under the sink. Stay away from strangers. Wash your hands after coming home from school.' But not once had they ever mentioned how to handle the spoiled, arrogant children that tortured him ceaselessly for four years.
"I am so done," Mitch told the one and only person who didn't seem to have it out against him, Scott. Scott was the polar opposite of Mitch, really. He was more sociable. People liked to talk and interact with Scott. He was often found joking with his fellow classmates in the hallways. Even some of the upperclassmen strayed from their own cliques to speak with Scott. No one picked on Scott past the playful jab here and there. No one. Anyone who dared was quickly humiliated in front of whoever would stick around to watch.
To say it was unusual and a complete scandal when Scott began talking to Mitch would be an understatement. It was all anyone would talk about at school for the longest time. It even managed to overpass the gossip going around about a couple of the senior athletes being caught drinking underage at their parent's house. Word had it that they were to be given a punishment of one hundred community service hours, which was a feat in and of itself. Money talked in Mitch's small home town, and boy did those athletes have some. That didn't stop the vultures from swooping in on Mitch, though. He couldn't quite remember what prompted him to start talking to Scott, but somewhere along the way, he found himself genuinely enjoying the company of the blonde boy.
"What are you done with? Was there a project in French I didn't know about?" For his part, Scott was aware of the rude comments and harsh whispers. One would have to be either deaf or a total idiot in order not to. But in his mind for him to respond to the words of others, for him to acknowledge them, would only serve to fuel the fire and appear as his admittance that something was wrong. Absolutely nothing was wrong with his relationship with Mitch. They were friends, and he wouldn't be much of a friend if he went around behind Mitch's back and fanned the flames.
Mitch sighed in exasperation. He recognized Scott was trying to make a joke, but the conversation was too serious to attempt humor. "Will you listen for a minute? I am through with school. Seriously, fuck everyone. Fuck the building. Fuck the whole institute of education. Seriously, why does it matter if America's youth is educated if they're all assholes?"
"Well, I suppose they are banking on the fact that some of them will become therapists and hopefully straighten the attitudes of the whole out."
Mitch huffed and flopped down onto his bed. Scott remained in the bean bag chair located in the corner of Mitch's room. "They won't be able to afford it because every single boss they will have will fire them before a week is done. No one wants to hire someone who will raise their voice back against innocent customers."
Scott shrugged. "If they are desperate enough for employees, they will. What's up with your mood, anyway? You're usually all low-key 'woe is me' and 'fuck the world' but this is extreme. Did someone say something?"
"When doesn't someone say something?" Mitch arched an eyebrow.
Scott patted his thighs in frustration. "Either you talk to me or I start talking about my sister's date."
The sentence sort of caused the opposite effect of what Scott was hoping for. Mitch perked up and looked excited. "Oh, what did she wear? Where did they go? Was he cute? Do I know him?"
Scott stared. He blinked once. Twice. Three times. "Do you seriously want the details of my sister's date?"
Mitch nodded. "Sure! Why not? It's better than talking about the alternative."
"Okay, whatever." The next half hour or so was spent with Scott answering Mitch's rapid-fire questions. The two thoroughly dissected the event, and though it was awkward for Scott to discuss his sister's romantic life, he found that disassociation worked wonders. As long as he could talk in third person, he was fine.
"You know, she's lucky to have you as a brother."
"Huh?"
"Yeah, she's lucky that you're her brother. I sort of wish you were my sibling. Seriously, you're easy to talk with and super nice. Like, not overly nice to the point where you are bordering on being fake but nice like you really care about other's wellbeing."
"Well, uh, yeah. Isn't that how you're supposed to be?"
Mitch snorted. "The other kids at our school didn't get that notice."
Scott sighed. "Look, Mitch, I am going to be honest with you. You probably won't like what I have to say, but I'm going to be straight with you." Mitch snorted. Scott shot him a glare, and the brunette sobered up. "You need to not pay those other kids any mind." When Mitch began protesting, Scott held a hand up. "No; hush and listen. You can't control what they say and think. And that shouldn't change the way you act or who you are. There will always be people out there who will say stupid and hurtful shit about you. One of the great traits of being a human is having an opinion, and a lot of people are extremely vocal with theirs. This doesn't mean that you back down and let others walk over you, but you shouldn't retaliate with hate either. Just let it be, Mitch, and enjoy the remaining three years of high school we have left. After that it's college, and there will be similar problems there, too. Get back at them by living your life and being happy."
Mitch frowned. "I can't be happy when there's so much shit going on."
"Not if you have that attitude, you can't." Scott leaned forward and maintained eye contact with Mitch. "You are the only one who can truly make you happy, dude. It's your decision. What are you going to choose?"
Mitch looked away. His friend's words weren't comforting, but they were the truth. A part of him recognized that, but the darker, smaller part of his brain remained insistent that happiness simply wasn't possible for him. He had been bullied and treated so badly for so many years that it seemed impossible for a change to occur. "I choose whichever path will make the days easier."
"Then work on that," Scott added. "I'm not saying it will happen overnight, but if you keep at it, I'm sure things will look up."
Mitch smirked. "Are you going to be that therapist you were talking about earlier?"
Scott laughed. "Oh, shut the fuck up. You're not funny."
"I'm hilarious. I have to be in order for things to get better, right?"
"If it helps you sleep at night, sure Mitch. Be a comedian."
"I'd rather sing."
"You and me both."
