Nails Painted Red.

Ch.7

I cried silently for hours that night. How could I be so stupid? How could I drink that coffee around my mom? How could I let that freak near me? Why was I not disgusted by him? I got less than an hour of sleep.

•

I wore a hoodie to cover any visible bruises or cuts from my 'repentance' last night. I'm walking to biology, when I see him. Patrick closes his locker when he sees me, and rushes into room 204. I hesitate, but head to my seat to find that he is sitting in the one next to mine. My desk partner has been on vacation for a couple of weeks, so the desk was empty. Garett was at a doctors appointment, so his desk was empty too. Mr.C probably asked him to sit here. I sit down without making eye contact with Patrick, and take out my textbook.
"Jake," a soft voice beside me says. "I'm sorry for whatever I did to make you leave on Saturday. I can find another tutor if you don't want to tutor me anymore." He apologized. Again. For nothing.
"Did you tell Mr.Clemens?"
"About what?"
"About me teasing you?"
"No. I'm um- I'm used to teasing." He sounded hurt. "It doesn't really phase me anymore."
"Can you-?" We both start at the same time.
"Sorry, you go first," I say.
"Okay. Can you not tell anyone that I'm in the gsa? I don't think I'm quite ready to come out to the school yet. Your turn."
"Can you not tell anybody about our meeting at the library? I would like that to stay between you and me. And yes, I'll still tutor you. I really need the extra credits for the scholarship I want." I roll up my sleeve without thinking.
"What happened to your arm?" I roll my sleeve back down as fast as I can. "None of your business, faggot." There was venom in my voice.
We don't speak to each other for the rest of the block. We each go to our next classes when the bell rings, and that was the end of that.

•

I decide to eat lunch alone in the field today. I take my bag, and stroll around the school, to where the picnic benches are. There were a group of girls at one, a boy doing homework at another. At the far table, I see Patrick sitting with a girl, laughing. He's quick to make friends apparently.
I sit at the closest table and chip at the surface's peeling paint. I have no appetite. I don't know why I feel so strange today. I can't put my foot on what I'm feeling and it's confusing the living shit out of me. I wish I knew what this was.

•

The hallways are busy when I get out of French class. I worm my way through the crowds of people and walk out the front door of the school. Just like the other day, Patrick is sitting at a bench by himself. I see Matthew, Lee and Antonio come out of the side door, and make their way up to him. I lean on a support beam next to me, and watch to see what happens. Matthew opens the lid to his bottle of soda, and dumps it on Patrick's head from behind. They all start laughing. Patrick stands up and faces them, clearly upset. He says something to them which makes them all go stone faced. Antonio rushes up and punches Patrick right in the gut, and Lee goes behind him, to kick his knees in. Once he's on the ground, Matthew starts to kick him until he's lying in the fetal position, being kicked on the ground. My stomach felt weird. This was meant to be funny right? Why was it not funny? I don't even realize I'm moving until my fist comes into contact with Matthew's nose. He stumbles back a bit and looks at me, dumbfounded. I shake out my hand.
"Leave him alone." I don't think before I say this. "Or else I will personally see that you never walk again." I was speaking just loudly enough that all three of them could hear what I was saying, and they all looked confused.
"Why are you defending this fairy?!" Lee was angry.
"Yeah, what the hell man. He deserves this." So was Antonio.
"Haven't you read the bible? Fags deserve death. We're being merciful." Matthew says, while holding his nose, hoping it won't bleed.
I don't know what I'm thinking as I help Patrick up, grab his bag, and lead him away by his wrist. I can hear him trying to get my attention, but my legs won't stop moving. They don't stop until we've reached my house. My mother's car was gone, so it was safe to go in.
"What are you doing Jake? Where are you taking me? What's happening?" He's panicking. I lead him into my bedroom, and sit him down on the bed.
"Stay here for a minute."
I head down the hall, into the bathroom, and grab the first aid kit and a damp towel. When I return, I see how much they had actually hurt him. My stomach felt strange again. I hand him a bottle of water that was on my desk, and he takes a sip.
I don't speak to him at all as I open the first aid kit, and pull out the disinfectant wipes. He flinches a bit when I step closer to him, and clean a scrape on his face. His hair was messy, like it always was, but this time it was full of sticky soda.
"Take off your sweater," I tell him. "I need to see if you broke anything. Plus it's covered in pop."
He took off his dirt smeared, sticky hoodie, and laid it on the bed next to him.
"Lift up your shirt."
He goes a bit red, and shakes his head a bit. 
"I told you, I need to see if you're injured." He reaches for the hem of his shirt, when he looks me in the eyes.
"Why are you doing this? You punched your friend in the face, and threatened him. Why? You don't like me; you tease me every time I see you. So why then?"
"I don't know." I really don't know. I punched a life long friend in the face to save a stranger.
My body just sort of moved on it's own.
"My body just sort of moved on it's own."
I don't know what I'm doing.
"I don't know what I'm doing." I punched Matthew in the face. Holy shit.