Within the Writing

Chapter Three

"Mr. Smith, could you please pass the papers out?" I heard my English teacher ask. I was her favorite student, everyone knew it and most the time that was a subject that got me picked on. Teacher's pet was a name the school body had dubbed on me. I closed my journal and made the mistake of leaving it on my desk as I got up to go pass out the rubric for the essay that as due in a week. The teacher left the room briefly and I was halfway through handing the papers out when I heard snickering and laughter coming from my corner of the room. I looked up and in horror I dropped the papers on the floor and they scattered everywhere. 

"Awe! The faggot has a diary!" Michael said loudly, waving it around like a mindless chimp. My eyes were wide and I was already heading for him to get my journal back.

"It's a journal." I corrected and held out my hand for him to hand it to me. He refused and flipped through several pages, reading a couple words here and there. His eyes went wide then he grinned the most menacing grin I had ever seen.

"Jamison really is a fag!" He laughed, throwing my worn journal across the room and into the hands of none other than Adam. He waved it teasingly at me, beckoning me to come get it.

"Come on gay boy, come get your precious little diary." Adam laughed before starting to tear page after page out of the journal. I couldn't react...I just, I ran at him. I snatched my ruined sanctuary from his hands and picked the pages up before feel a hard pain in my back. "I didn't say steal it from my hands." He growled. I was defensless, but it didn't matter. The teacher came back in and saw me on the floor, distraught.

"Is everything alright?" She asked me. I choked on sobs and I didn't answer. I got up and ran out of the room without saying a word. I ran down to the office, tears staining my cheeks, making the foundation start to disappear and reveal my bruises. I looked at the office lady and she looked at me with concern. I didn't let her speak but I did muster to get a few words out.

"Can you call my mom?" My voice cracked and I burst into tears, clutching my broken journal to my chest. The binding was coming undone and the pages were just loose in my hands, some were torn and illegible but I didn't care. This was the only thing that had kept me afloat, where I kept all my confessions, my hopes, my dreams, my secrets. That kind of thing and now, there they were out in the open for everyone. Or at least some of them.

"What number?" The lady asked and I tried to stop sobbing long enough to tell her.

"House phone." I answered and the sobs came back harder, soon I was dry heaving and had to sit down. The guidance counselor came down and was sitting beside me, rubbing my back trying to get me to calm down but it just wasn't working.

"Can you tell me what's wrong, Jamison?" He asked. This wasn't the first time he had tried to pry information from me. My bruises were clearly visible now and he was eyeballing them with suspicion. "Are there problems at home?" He inquired and I instantly shook my head in response, dismissing any thought that my family was abusive. He frowned, looking at me carefully and I was thankful when the door opened and in rushed both my mother and my aunt, fussing over me again.

"Thank you, Miss Campell." My mother said quietly before signing me out and leading me out to our little Honda Civic. I was still clutching the tattered journal to my chest. I was holding it so tightly my muscled were strained and my knuckles were white.

"Jamison Night, you're going to tell me what's going on right now." My aunt demanded visciously. She was overprotective and I understood that I finally needed to admit what was going on. They were the only ones I could count on now that my journal was ruined.

"Well...well...." I stammered through sobs and she sighed, looking back at me with a soft tender look in her eyes.

"We'll wait until you've calmed down." She said softly and I nodded, going quiet, trying to silence my tears. I looked down at the disaray of pages in my arms and I sighed, loosening my grip and watched the crumbled mess fall into my lap.

"They destroyed....my journal...." I whispered. My mom was watching me from the rear view mirror and she calmly drove the three of us home. She understood what this journal meant to me and she knew why I was so worked up over it. Every night, mom would come in to read the journal because it's the only way I can get my thoughts out. But we never discussed any of it. She knew much like I knew, the predicament I was in, and how I felt about others knowing.

She pulled into the drive but stayed in the driver's seat. "Bela," she began, turning her head to her sister. "Take Jamie inside...try and calm him down. I'll be back soon." She glanced back at me as I stayed glued to the seat and my aunt climbed out of the car.

"Mom...don't tell...don't....please." I started sobbing again and she quietly hushed me, smiling softly as she reached back and wiped my tears away.

"That's not what I'm doing, I promise. Now try and go relax." She told me and I nodded, grabbing the papers and broken leather again and going inside with my aunt. Mom pulled out of the drive again and disappeared down the road, I watched her go and my heart sake with dread. What I thought had been the start of a good day, had evidentally been the only good thing about today. I walked in the front door and closed my eyes as the front door shut behind me.