blue hair and bruises.

4 - Alligator Skin Boots

Sal slid a slip of lined paper across the table.

Dad, there's someone at school...

Henry read the words on the paper, then slid it back. "Now don't be doing your whole vague and cryptic thing with me, son," he said, smiling, "Just tell me. Boy or girl? What classes? What are they like?"

Sal rolled his eyes, and started scribbling more words.

No, it's nothing like that.

"Then what is it?"

He hesitated before he wrote his next note. Henry noticed this.

It's like before. His name is Travis. We only have English and homeroom together.

This time, Henry didn't return the paper. Instead, he eyed him knowingly. "Listen to me, Sal," he began, "you just told me recently that you were relapsing. Are you sure you want to do this again, in that state of mind?" He sighed. "Last time, you had a mental breakdown because you were so focused on everything else that you forgot to leave time for yourself. I remember spending hours trying to calm you down. You were so upset. I never want to see you like that again."

Sal held out his hand, gesturing for the paper. Reluctantly, his father passed it back. Sal immediately started to write again.

I know you're only looking out for me, Dad, and I appreciate it. I really do. But he's got a lot of pent up rage that he's taking out on others, especially on Larry and the others. There's something about the suspicious injuries appearing out of nowhere and all those homophobic slurs, that raises red flags in my book. He doesn't seem to have a lot of friends either. I was thinking that maybe if he had a friend, even if it is someone like me, maybe he can channel all that negative energy into something else.

Henry shook his head. "I guess I can't stop you. You never listen to what I say anyway. Just be careful, okay?"

Sal nodded and stood up. He hugged his father before he retreated back to his room.

~

Travis stared into his broken mirror, seeing how the cracks in the glass distorted his reflection. How melancholy.

He gingerly touched his right eye. Why was he still feeling so vulnerable? He hated seeing himself like this. He hated how easily he crumbled. But... why was it Sal who could make him crumble? The guy was confusing. Everything about him was odd, from the bright blue colour in his eyes, to his scarred fingers, to everything that he had done. What could Travis do? Should he just give up on this kid?

Frustrated and confused, he groaned and fell back onto his bed.