The Taste of Yellow Paint Chips

ten; connor

          "..."

          "..."

          "..."

          Connor's phone doesn't buzz, beep, or ring over the weekend, leaving him without plans for the first time in months.

          On Saturday, to keep busy, he goes thrifting, rereads a few of his favorite books, and tries to learn how to skateboard. Sunday is far more productive. He continues his investigation of What Happened Between Sabrina and I After the Bonfire; Sex?, focusing on his bedroom, this time around. A used condom is found in his bathroom trash can, and the missing bottle of lube from his bedside table is spotted, uncapped and dripping onto the carpet, under his bed.

          Part of him, a teeny, tiny, minuscule part of him, wishes he had security cameras installed in his bedroom. The more sane, sensible part of him knows how perverted that is and feels grateful without them.

          Monday morning, for Connor, is a quiet one, to say the least. Outside of his small circle of friends, he didn't really talk to anyone else. So, in the absence of his friends, when no one talks to him for the first half of the day, Connor remains unbothered. He enjoys it, almost. Just him, his two earbuds, and the used book he bought at the thrift shop on a whim prompted by boredom.

          He doesn't see Toby until their shared class before lunch, and even then, they don't speak. His friend sits in a seat on the other side of the classroom with students Connor doesn't recognize without sparing him a glance.

          Unfortunately, clue hunting on Sunday night made him tired enough to forget to charge his phone before bed, making it die overnight. He couldn't even text Toby a message consisting of way too many question marks and dramatic emojis.

          When their class in released to lunch with the sound of the bell, Toby finally makes eye contact with him but his dark brown eyes are narrowed and hostile. He grabs Connor by his upper arm and drags him through the crowd of students until they reach the deserted art hallway. Connor searches his brain for a dad joke or pun or something to say, but Toby beats him to the punch.

          "You're brave to come to school, but don't think that means you're forgiven. You're not allowed to sit with us, for today until we graduate. And if you so much as look in Sabrina's direction, I will end you."

          Connor is shocked, stunned into silence with his back pressed against the cold metal of a locker. He's never seen Toby so angry that the vein in the center of his forehead makes an appearance.

          "I... What are you talking about?"

          Connor wets his pants a little when Toby's fist slams into the locker next to his head.

          "Fuck you, Connor. You drugged and took advantage of her. You raped her. What kind of perverted sicko are you?"

          "I-"

          "Shut up! There's no excuse for what you did to her."

          "But, Toby, I didn't do that to her. Who told you that? Will you let me-"

          Toby cuts him off with a hard jab into his jaw, causing the side of his head to smack against the locker with a loud smack. The taste of blood quickly becomes evident inside his mouth.

          "You are not my friend, faggot."

          For the first time since he started high school, Connor cuts class.

          At home, he cries and he yells and he passive-aggressively rips his clothes off until he's standing in his living room in just his briefs. Plugging his phone into its charger in his bedroom, he goes downstairs to grab a bag of frozen mixed fruit to hold against his throbbing cheek.

          His iPhone buzzes to life and within seconds he receives a plethora of text messages, social media notifications, and missed phone calls.

          The video is dark, save for the multi-colored flashing lights from the mock disco ball. Connor's words are slow and slurred, but it's clear what happened, despite his immense confusion and disbelief. Someone had posted a video of him, drunk and stupid, saying "Hell yeah, I'd fuck Sabrina. But only if she was drunk," accompanied by pictures of him handing her several drinks in the kitchen.

          And he couldn't remember any of it.

          From Michael B: Not cool, man

          From Unknown: Kill yourself, you sick pervert.

          From Unknown: Rapist!

          From Lisa: Fuck you, asshole

          From Toby: Don't come to school on Monday

          From Unknown: How could you do that to poor Sabrina?"

          From Dylan H: What the fuck?!

          From Unknown: I hope you get raped over and over as you rot in prison

          From Sabrina: i wish i didnt stop you from jumping off angels rock last summer.