KISS: Casablanca High School

Ch 110: Bad, Bad, Bad Idea (Paul)

After barely fighting back the urge to punch Peter in the face myself, I walked toward the office, leaning against the wall and praying desperately that he wouldn't get suspended. Because if he got suspended, that was it. That was game over for high school and probably for college too.

I stood waiting by the front office for forever until Gene finally stepped outside, face burning a deep crimson. "So what happened? Everything okay?" I asked, falling into step beside him as he walked away. Scowling, he shook his head. "I got a detention for 'verbally assaulting him' and Peter got jack because of course Blackwell didn't see that part. I mean sure I could've told him Peter was high and that if he tested him he'd see that, but I didn't to do that to him," he growled.

I patted him on the shoulder with a sigh. "Hey, it's fine, it's better than a suspension. You don't have to report detentions to Stanford. Now come on, you've got dirt and stuff on your face, I'll go help you get it cleaned up." He cracked a faint smile, walking with me to the bathroom. I stood leaning against the cold tile wall as he turned on the sink and started to scrub his face. He paused for a moment, gripping the edges of the sink until his knuckles went white, face burning. "Aw, fuck!" he spat.

"You alright?" I asked gently, taking a step toward him.

Gene took a deep, shaking breath, scowling. "I just threw away a perfect record for a drug-addled slacker who...who called my mom a whore! She's--she's not! She doesn't do that, that's not why I'm here!" he shouted, fighting back tears.

"Hey, hey, it's alright. Peter's just...you know. He's struggling a bit. And it's one detention, it's not going to keep you from getting into college. And, and besides, the people who heard what he said know it isn't true," I said, reaching around him to shut off the sink. "We know you earned your place here." He gave me a grateful smile. "Thanks, Paul," he mumbled.

"You'll be fine man, don't even worry about it. We should probably go to class though, I'm pretty sure I heard the bell ring," I said, returning his crooked grin. He picked up his backpack and clapped me on the shoulder, eyes shining. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

I stared into those warm brown eyes, heart in my throat, and realized that I couldn't do it anymore and I had to try, no matter what happened. So without really thinking, I leaned forward and kissed him.

All I wanted was to be able to melt into his arms, to have the kiss returned, to have him tell me he loved me, just anything to show he felt the same way about me as I did about him. But instead, he shoved me away, stepping back and staring at me in horror, holding up his hands as if to ward me off. "Paul, what? I'm not--I'm not gay," he whispered, taking another step back.

Shit.

Shit, shit, shit.

I scooped up my bag and bolted from the bathroom, door swinging shut behind me. "Paul! Paul, wait!"

I could hear him shouting after me but I didn't stop. I just wanted to get away from the horrible, horrible mistake I had just made. Tears were pricking at my eyes as I sprinted toward the front office, cursing myself with every step. Stopping outside the door, I took a deep breath, brushing them away with a balled fist and stepping into the office.

Mrs. Davis looked up from her computer as I stumbled toward the front desk, face bloodless, her own face wrinkling in concern. "Paul, are you alright?" she asked, starting to rise from her seat. I shook my head, feeling my phone vibrating in my pocket. "I feel sick, can I go home? I think I have the flu or something," I whispered, lip beginning to quiver.

Her eyes filled with worry as she picked up the phone, looking strangely at me. "Did something happen?" she asked gently. I shook my head again, dropping my eyes to the carpet. "N-no, I just really don't feel good," I mumbled. I waited as she called my mom, getting permission for me to head home as I hung up on Gene again.

I took the excuse note she handed me, ignoring her repeated question about whether or not I was okay, doing everything I could not to run from the room and to my car. The moment I was able to sit behind the wheel of my car, I sobbed until I felt sick, struggling to see through the curtain of tears as I drove home.

The house was empty like always and for once I was glad. I slowly clambered up the stairs to my room, collapsing onto my bed. I buried my face in my pillow but didn't really bother to muffle my sobs. My phone began to vibrate again.

Paul pick up

Paul answer your phone

Talk to me please

Paul please

Talk to me

Paul I want to talk to you

Please

Paul please call me back

Paul answer me

Call me back

Dammit Paul answer your phone

Talk to me

It's okay just talk to me

Please

I'm not mad at you it's okay

Talk to me please

Please

Paul

I shut it off and dropped it to the floor, not bothering to respond to any one of his 23 missed calls or 34 messages, instead pulling the blanket over my head and trying to fall asleep, tears streaming down my face. If I never woke up, that would be fine with me.