Skinny Boy ✔

Chapter 28: repercussions

Walks can really help people to clear their heads at times. But other times, like is the case with me, your head becomes more "empty" than clear.

As much as I wanted to, I was reluctant to go home. That would mean having to face my parents, and even Jamie, who might have been able to tell that I was crying. From what I could tell by the store windows I passed, my eyes were still a little pink and puffy. But for all I know, that could have been from the cold.

I slipped into the house without much notice. Mom and dad acknowledged my presence, but made no move for me to be concerned about. 

They had no idea what just happened. 

I dragged my body upstairs, ignoring the tingling in my feet that came with every step. I was droopy, having been drained mentally from my little breakdown earlier. But I was also stiff, hunched over and frozen from the snow. In other words, I was pretty much an icicle hanging from your gutters, all drooped over and frozen in that position. 

Dropping my bags at my feet, I stepped out of my shoes and stripped myself of the excess layers on my body. I sat shivering on my bed, not just from the process of thawing my frozen buns, but also from the thought of had happened. 

I should feel could. I'm coldblooded enough to punch my friend in the face. 

I shook the thought away and rubbed my hands together, hard. Like maybe if I rubbed them hard enough, it'd be enough to wipe my hands clean of the blood that showed me as guilty. It wasn't enough, though. 

I went into the bathroom and splashed my face with warm water. I looked upon myself in the mirror, and for the first time in so, so long, I didn't see my flaws. 

All I saw staring back at me was the look of a broken man. 

As I padded my face with a towel, my father's voice boomed from downstairs. "Nathan! Get down here right now!"

Just when I thought blood was returning to my frozen body, it all drained from my face. He did not sound happy. I knew what was coming. 

I walked into the kitchen where my mother was consoling my dad, who was running a hand through his graying hair. "Yeah?" 

Don't play dumb, you dummy! 

His nostrils flared and he did his best to control his breathing. "John called." Garret's dad. Yep, I'm screwed. "He said that he came home to see Garret with a black eye. He said that you gave it to him, and that Henrietta could back his story up." 

I averted my eyes, but his stare caught my gaze. He paused, his brown eyes locked on my blue ones. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper. "Is this true?" 

When I didn't answer right away, he pointed to my right and and demanded I hold it up. There was no way around this. I held it toward him, and he examined the mark on my knuckle. He dropped my hand like it burned him at the touch. "It is true, isn't it?" Still no answer on my part. "Why?" 

"Because he wouldn't leave me alone!" I curled my hands at my sides. "He was being annoying, and--"

"And that gives you a reason to punch him?" mom screeched. "He is your best friend! How could you even think to do such a thing!"

"That's not the only reason why," I said before she got her full sentence out.

"Oh?" She raised a brow in expectation. "And what's that?"

I scoffed at the smug, disbelieving look on her face. "You know, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't talk all condescending like that."

"Excuse me?" dad said. He used his stature to look down upon me. "Don't you dare speak to your mother like that!"