Resentment - (18+)

C35

JUSTIN
Sixteen weeks before prom.

At the start of the second semester, the playoff season for football is in full-swing, and I'm halfway hoping that we get eliminated in the first round so I don't have to deal with half of my dad's shit for the rest of the year.

Unfortunately, Mia can't come to the first playoff game; she's busy with last minute portfolio work for Western Peak which I more than understand. She's texted me good luck before the game several times, and she's promised that I can come over later to tell her about it.

Before the team takes the field, I step back into the restroom and wrap another layer of meshed bandage around my ribs. Last night, my dad pushed me into the garage door after coming home late from hanging out with Mia.

I was too tired to fight back, and he was too drunk to stop hitting me.

The coaches come to the locker room and ask for the two of us to stand side by side as they ask me their usual questions.

As the coaches begin to make their last minute motivational speeches, I notice my phone blinking through my bag. Unzipping the bag, I stare at the phone and try to rationalize the text message.

MIA: Just wishing you good luck one last time for tonight's game! I just finished my second piece for Western Peak and will finish the other two next week. I'm going to get some ice and heating pads and I'll have them ready for you when you get here later. I love you... :)

I don't doubt that her wishing me luck is genuine, and her endless offers of taking care of me are always heartfelt, but I'm wondering why she wouldn't just come to the game if she was free.

Why she uses the same excuse for the rest of them, and is an entire hour late for the championship game.

Despite the fact that she kisses me at the fifty-yard line when our team wins, the kiss feels bittersweet.

Ten weeks before prom.

I'm going to miss school today, and I'm going to miss her birthday.

I can't show up looking like this.

Looking at myself in the mirror, I trace my fingers along the gash on the side of my face. The result of my father finding out that I'm not playing football in college. That I'll be attending school for academics and have plenty of real scholarship offers on the table that come with no risks of broken bones or heightened expectations.

All of a sudden the door to my bedroom opens, and the asshole himself appears.

As soon as his eyes meet mine, he staggers backward, as if he doesn't remember doing this shit hours ago.

"Son, I'm-"

"You're not. You never are. Just stop."

He nods slowly and steps back. "I called this doctor I know from the country club...Told him you got into a brawl and um..." He turns away from me, unable to face his own damage. "He'll be over in an hour to patch you up. He says he'll even write you a pass for another week off from school."

"Yay," I say dryly. "Another missed week for child abuse."

"If it's fucking child abuse," he says, quickly snapping. "Why haven't you turned me in? Huh? Why haven't you fucking turned me in? It's because you hurt me back sometimes, too. It's because you've broken some of my bones here or there, too."

"I haven't turned you in because I pity you," I say honestly. "And because you have no one else who'd bail you out."

His face goes white and he looks as if someone just slapped him across the face. The beer bottle in his hand drops into my trashcan, but as he leaves my room, I know he's heading downstairs to grab another.

Looking at my mangled reflection once more, I shake my head in disbelief but I immediately text Mia.

JUSTIN: Happy Birthday, Mia. Did you get my flowers this morning?

MIA: I did :-) Thank you. Are we still going out tonight?

JUSTIN: No, I'm sorry. I can't come.

MIA: Why not?

JUSTIN: I just can't come. I want you to call and tell me all about it later though.

MIA: Justin...You're the only person (outside of Autumn) that I actually want to see tonight...why can't you come?

JUSTIN: It's hard to explain.

MIA: Okay...Well, can you explain why you haven't been to school in a week? Why you're not letting me come over to see you?

JUSTIN: No. That's hard to explain too.

MIA: Okay.

JUSTIN: Okay.

JUSTIN: Enjoy your birthday, Mia. I really do mean that.

MIA: Totally shows.

I wait for her to text me something else, to act like the girl I fell in love with just months ago and say that she's coming over regardless so I can finally tell someone about what really goes on in the shadows, but she never does.

I miss another week of school, we sporadically text here or there, and when I return to classes, we see each other and everything seems to be okay again. Everything seems cool, except the thin layer of resentment that's beginning to build up in my chest.

I try to prevent it from spreading, but as the weeks pass, it only gets worse.

Four weeks before prom.

The final draft of Central high's yearbook is revealed on a Friday and to my surprise (not really) I'm deemed "Mr. Popular" again. What's a complete surprise though is the newly crowned "Miss Popular": Mia Gray.

I had no idea she'd actually taken me up on my bet to run until I see the spread, but as she rushes over to me during lunch and hugs me, I tell her congratulations.

I tell her I want to go somewhere private to celebrate-just us, but I really need to talk to her about my dad. I need to ask for her advice about whether I should finally turn him in, or whether I should just request to do summer session at Harvard so I can move out early.

She doesn't even give my private invitation much thought at all. She wants to hang out with the rest of the superlatives, and even though I'm happy that she's finally enjoying her time in high school, it only makes me want to withdraw more. It only makes me feel like she's putting me on the backburner for something I told her was superficial, something she never seemed to want before.

Two weeks before prom.

Today is the last day I'll talk to Mia.

Today is the last day I'll let her make me feel this way.

She hasn't called to tell me happy birthday, hasn't texted to ask why I've missed the fourth day of school in a row, and as the country club doctor attends to another set of wounds, I realize that I resent her. That I'm going to make her feel exactly how she's made me feel...

(A/N): this is the turning point you've all been waiting for!! hopefully some more loose ends are going to come together for you.