Boyf Riends

Michael VIII

tw reference to child abuse

...

I got up that morning around 6:00. Light started streaming in through my curtains. The air felt cold and heavy.

I felt cold and heavy.

My phone still didn't have any notifications on it. I was starting to wonder if Gale was really ok or not when I heard moving coming from upstairs.

It was better to start getting up now than have her yell at me, right?

I got up and peeled off my pajamas. It hurt a lot, but I couldn't show up to school looking like a total slob.

The sock drawer creaked as I pulled out some tube socks for me to wear. Clean red hoodie, long sleeves underneath, jeans with the bandana fabric, plain socks, and checkered vans were the outfit of the day.

I groaned as I buttoned the pants around my waist. The she-demon's tricks of hiding the food in the house from me were working. The jeans that once fit nice and snug around my waist now needed a belt to stay up without sliding down every time I leaned forward.

Maybe I could steal a protein bar from Brooke. She always had five in her backpack and never ate any of them.

The bathroom light flickered on as I squinted. My glasses were left by the sink from the night before. I always forgot to put them back on after I showered.

I brushed my teeth and my hair. It did look nice and shiny today, and it felt pretty soft. At least I had that going for me.

I fixed the strings of my hoodies so that they were even. The red was still pretty intense but faded from years of wear.

Even though I had changed my lock screen and hid all of the old photos, I couldn't throw away the hoodie.

For my eleventh birthday, Jeremy got me a men's extra large red hoodie because I had been complaining about being too cold in my house and that I said red was my favorite color. His dad tried to get Jeremy to pick one that was closer to my size, but Jeremy was adamant about me having the biggest one he could find.

"Mom always says that if you get the big one, you can just grow into it. If I get this one, Michael can wear it until he's, like, eighty!" Is what Mr. Heere told me that Jeremy had said.

I promised Jeremy that I would try to take care of it and wear it every day. And for the most part, I had. I washed it of course and it did get some holes from time to time, but that's where the patches came in.

Jeremy got me my first two patches for Christmas in sixth grade. Some kid had pushed me into a thorn bush on the way home from school, and it made two big holes on the right sleeve.

"You keep on saying that people don't really believe you when you talk about being Filipino-Ecuadorian, but if you have two tiny flags on, maybe they might." He presented the two patches to me with a small smile on his face. "I tried to wrap them, but it was a disaster."

It was one of the last times that I had hugged him. I was just so happy. He helped me sew them on in his bedroom while a stupid kids movie played in the background.

Those two patches stared back at me in the mirror. Along with some other ones he and I had gotten together. One from a theme park, the pride patch I had, some video game ones, a national park one from his trip to yellowstone, my "Rise Against Racism" one, my Seven-Eleven one, and a record player that had a tiny disk on it.

I smiled when I looked at them, but it hurt. Oh, how it hurt.

I turned the light off in the bathroom and grabbed my bag from the foot of the bed. My computer for school was going to be on the main floor, resting on the dining room counter. I just had to grab that and leave.

Then I could leave the house and get some air.

But I would have to come back eventually. I didn't want to come back. It felt suffocating in here, and school was only just barely better.

No matter what I did, I was alone. Stupid Michael was all alone.

I reached the top of the staircase and opened the door. The she-demon herself was sitting at the dining room table waiting for me.

"Michael, please have a seat."

I walked over quietly and sat across from her. My computer rested in between us.

"So, I was talking with Nadia. Are your meds that she got you not working?"

With a frown, I shook my head. "Um, we stopped doing the pills. The doctor started prescribing me weed."

She nodded. "Oh, I know, but have you been using it?"

I nodded my head.

"Is it not working?"

Why did she care? What was this? Why was she smiling like that?

"Um, I dunno. Why do you ask?"

"Well-" She got up out of her seat and walked around to crouch beside me. "-it's kind of expensive to continue to buy this stuff, especially if it isn't working."

A lump started forming in my throat. The white headphones around my neck felt like two weights on either side of me.

"Oh, well if it's too much money, I guess that we can do something else."

She nodded but kept one arm behind her back.

What was behind her back?

"I was thinking the same thing because, well-" She stopped and stood up.

Her eyes changed. There was this evil inside of them that I couldn't even describe. It sent chills down my spine and made my throat feel like it was about to close up.

"-If you're going to-" She stopped as Nadia cleared her throat from behind us.

"Babe, what are you two doing? Michael's going to be late for school." Nadia came up to my mother and kissed her on the cheek.

"Oh, I guess you're right, Honey. Michael, get your things and leave. We can't have you messing up your perfect attendance for this year, right?"

I eyed her wearily as I grabbed my computer.

"Yeah, can't have that."

I half walked, half jogged to the garage door and got in my car. My faded, red backpack was already in the passenger's seat.

What was behind her back?

It was all that I could think about as I sped off to school. And during Pre Cal. And Creative Writing. And Econ. And Environmental Science. And Journalism. And Study hall. And lunch, but was interrupted by Miss Smith emailing me to meet her after school so she could talk to me about something. And English.

It plagued me as I walked to meet Miss Smith in the library.

What was behind her back?