Fucking emo

So fucking emo

He was fucking emo.

And I don't mean moody or sad or existential. I mean he was all that and more: the looks, the clothes, the jet-black hair, the pale skin, the blue eyes, the one-sided bang, the skinny jeans, the snakebites, the mascara, the anorexic twig body. Everything screamed emo.

I first caught a glimpse of him while getting some stuff from my locker. He was walking by, and he grabbed my attention. Of course he did - this was middle-of-white-Christian-conservative America, and there was this shadow of a guy just sticking out. A couple of guys, clearly a few grades lower than me, were running in the hallway. As they ran past him, they hit him on the back of the head with their books, laughing and sprinting on their merry way.

They disappeared as quickly as they had appeared, and pretty much no one else took notice. The emo kid just stopped dead in his tracks until their laughter faded out, then continued, always looking straight down at the floor the whole time.

Turned out he was in some of my classes.

The next time I saw him was a day later, just as I was walking into the building. A crowd had gathered, but I usually avoid crowds. I guess it makes me feel superior to not care about what people find fascinating. I was walking past them when I inadvertently caught a glimpse through an opening. Emo kid was in the middle of the crowd, on his knees, and his face was bloody. In a second, someone's shoes hit his face. People gasped, and people moved, blocking me.

I decided to walk on. Emo kid was not seen the rest of the day.

A few days later, emo kid showed up again. I kinda felt excited to see him again. I saw him in the cafeteria, making a line with a tray, alone. That unsettled me. It was like watching a bizarre version of myself. Not physically, of course, but I am the loner. Always the loner. I'm invisible, I change schools often, I manage to blend in and disappear without much fuss. He was apparently a loner, but visible - too visible.

I anxiously stared at him as he got his lunch and sat at one of the deserted tables. I was inclined to join him but decided to sit where I usually did, with the people I had for the last few days. Not friends, not acquaintances, just the people who were obviously too shy and awkward to actually talk to me. Eating alone makes you too visible.

And fucking emo kid was too visible as his table remained empty.

At some point, some guys - this time from some grades above us - stopped by emo kid's table. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but suddenly one of the guys got the juice box from emo kid's tray and poured it slowly over his flat black hair. He remained still.

I thought the entire room had gone quiet as the taller boy in the varsity jacket ceremoniously poured the liquid on this kid's head. But that wasn't the case - people were not looking, only I was. Then another ten guys, also with varsity jackets, stood behind emo kid. One leaned down, putting his face to emo kid's ear, murmuring something to him. Emo kid made a painful expression. I was puzzled for a second as to what could have been said, but then, as the varsity teen got up slowly, it became clear he was pulling up the boxers of the emo kid.

His black jeans and shirt, featuring the name of some band I'd never heard of, contrasted sharply with the red boxers he wore, which were being stretched effortlessly from the back. The underwear quickly reached the bottom of his neck, with the branded waistband lodged deeply under his armpits.

The varsity boy was bouncing the emo boy by his boxers as he sat quietly on the table. I couldn't hear the emo boy say anything or scream, nor could I hear the boy grunt if he was. He just sat there and took it. However, I did notice people watching, laughing, and maybe even cheering on.

The other varsity boys decided to join in, pulling, and soon the emo boy's waistband was over his head, lodged on his nose and eyes, with his soaked flat hair sticking out from underneath.

As some people applauded and returned to their food, I continued to stare. For a moment, I locked eyes with a bespectacled boy at my table and mouthed, "WTF!?" He just shrugged and continued eating.

The emo boy still had his shorts over his eyes as the varsity team walked away, high-fiving each other. He kept the shorts on for a few more seconds, much longer than any normal person would have waited, before finally removing the now-soaked underwear from his face. It was... something.

☆