Weekends

1- Busted Hands and Big Hearts- B

I don't really know why I feel the way that I do. My anxiety spikes anytime someone looks in my direction at school. It feels like they're analyzing every fiber of my being, whether that means my weight, looks, intelligence, or voice. So, I tried to take one of those possible attention grabbers away by not speaking. News flash: it brought me more negatives than before.

I couldn't just start talking again though. Once I'd stopped speaking, people started ignoring me or bullying me more, but it felt so good to be so invisible sometimes. Not being mocked for my speaking voice felt great for the first few weeks. Then, the other tauntings started.

My small and thin build, my feminine features, my sexuality, all of this seemed to follow me and be the only things in my peers' minds. Now, I'm not saying that everyone bullies me, but most people don't bother with me because of everything they hear about me.

"Hey, Brendon, what's going on today?" My thoughts were interrupted by the main person who bullies me cornering me by his locker. "I heard that you're going to have to take PE this semester. Maybe you'll be in our class, and we can take your skeleton ass out, hm?"

I felt my stomach tie itself in a knot as Steve's posse formed a wall, barricading me against the metal doors. I tried to reach for my whiteboard marker. "No, speak for us, little baby," he shouted as he took my arm and pinned it above my head. I whimpered and pulled at my arm. "Let's get outta here, Steve. This little bitch isn't worth lunch detention," Jason, a member of Steve's posse, told him. "Fuck off, Jase. Wittle baby Bwendon isn't going to be let off the hook." I tried to get my arm out of his grasp again, only to be met with him slamming my hand against the metal doors of the lockers behind me.

My knuckles felt like they were on fire as he pushed my hand harder into the metal. I looked away from Steve's evilly concentrated eyes and my hurting hand. "Are you ready to speak now," he spat, moving his face closer to my own. "Your stupid faggy ass better be ready to be fucking murdered in front of the entire PE class tomorrow because I will not hesitate to take you down."

"Steve, Jones is going to be pissed if we're not in his class when the bell rings," Alec pipes up from behind him. "Fine, but this isn't over, Brendon," Steve warned, pushing my hand into the metal as hard as he could before walking away.

I felt myself let out a sigh of relief as the group left. This was how my days usually went; getting teased every time I turned a corner. I surveyed the damage done to my luckily non-dominant hand. The only good part about my day was music class.

My friend Jack and I had music together everyday, so first period was like a break from all of the torment I had to deal with throughout the day.

"Hey, B! I didn't see you this morning," Jack came up to me and sat on the back of another chair. "I was running late today. My alarm didn't go off," I told him. He went to respond to that, but was called out by the teacher. "Mr. Antonoff, get off the back of that chair and sit down like a normal human, please," she said.

"I don't understand how sitting on the back of a chair is a problem, and how in the hell is that not sitting like a human," Jack grumbled and rolled his eyes as he jumped off the chair and sat next to me. "You were perched on the back of the chair like a bird, if that answers your question." He laughed at my message.

"You're such an ass sometimes, but that's why I love you," he squealed while hugging me. I laughed and pushed him off of me. He smiled until he saw my hand.

"Woah, B, what happened to your hand?" I shook my head and looked down at my swollen wrist. "It's nothing." He gave me a look that read 'really, Brendon' and carefully took my hand in his own to see the damage. "Y'know, I wouldn't laugh or anything if you'd tell me when Steve does shit like this to you," he sighed, making eye contact with me to make sure I was listening. I averted my glance and let my eyes fall to my feet.

I nodded. He gingerly let his fingers roam over my knuckles. "We should probably get you some ice," he sighed and went to ask the teacher if he could take me to the nurse. "I'm okay. I don't need to go to the nurse." I ran up to Jack and showed him the message. "B, not now. Your hand is busted," he took the pass from our teacher and walked out of the room with me.

"I don't want Steve or anyone to see me in the hallway," I told Jack. He nodded his head in understanding but kept walking. I felt safe with Jack. He had such a big heart, and I felt terrible that he was spending his time worrying about me. Jack was my friend and I trusted him with my life, but the group of bullies was so terrifying to me that I can't shake the anxiety that piles up in my chest when I even think about them.

Once we made it to the nurse's office, Nurse Ellie immediately came over to me with pity practically dripping from her sympathetic smile. "Oh Brendon, what happened to you," the older woman walked over to me and lifted my hand up so that she could see it. Her eyes moved up as she went to ask Jack what had happened. "Bullies," he mouthed silently. She pursed her lips and grabbed me an icepack from the clinic's refrigerator.

Jack sat next to me as she bandaged my hand. "I know you hate the clinic," he told me. I shrugged. "I'm sorry that shit like this always happens to you," Jack leaned over and hugged me as he spoke. "Thank you for being my friend and for putting up with me."