Oddity

8

Later in ninth grade, Mitch got a girlfriend. Her name was Kat. Kat was very nice, and I did not like her because Mitch liked her.

They spent a lot of time together, and the more time Kat got to spend with Mitch, the less time I got to spend with Mitch.

Kat made Mitch happy, and that made me angry. I was not angry because Mitch was happy, I was angry because it was hard to make Mitch happy and Kat did not realize how important he was.

I mean, I did not know that for sure, but I doubted she appreciated him to his full potential.

Kat asked Mitch to start sitting with her and her friends at lunch, and Mitch said he would only if I could sit with them too. Kat did not seem to like that idea very much, but she said yes anyway.

I did not want to sit with them, but I said yes because the idea made Mitch happy and I liked it when Mitch was happy.

Kat sat at a lunch table with a lot of people, and I did not like it. They kept looking at me weirdly.

Kat's female friends asked Mitch a lot of questions during lunch, and all giggled and smiled at everything he said. They did not speak to me. Not even a 'hello'.

"What's this? Freakazoid and Flower Boy have friends?" Michael Turner exclaimed, standing behind me and Mitch.

Michael Turner leaned between me and Mitch, putting a hand on the table, and looking towards Mitch. "You know Flower Boy; this isn't gonna convince anyone that you aren't a fag," he spat, before grabbing the edge of Mitch's lunch tray and flipping it towards him.

People gasped in shock as food and liquids landed on Mitch's front and on his face.

Michael Turner and his friends began laughing, and other students laughed, even some of Kat's friends. And even Kat.

"Come on did you really think a girl would date you? Or that this many people would wanna be your friend?" One of Kat's friends taunted, and people only laughed more.

"Oops, missed a spot," Michael Turner stated as he grabbed the carton of chocolate milk from my tray.

I was not surprised when cold chocolate milk was being poured on my head. I closed my eyes and just focused on the feeling of it soaking into my hair, and dripping down my neck; staining my shirt.

The laughing had just become a nuisance at this point.

I rose from my seat, before my hand found Mitch's. I did not speak, I just lightly dragged the crying boy to the nearest bathroom.

After going through a roll of damp paper towel, Mitch was mostly clean, and crying less.

"What did we do to deserve this?" Mitch murmured, looking up at me with reddened eyes.

I shook my head, "I don't think we do deserve this. Sometimes people lack empathy, and innocence pays the price for it."