"I know you think you're alone still," he said. "That no one understands you. That no one wants you."
I pulled my hand away from my face, my mouth falling open at his words. "That's not true—"
"You don't have to deny it," he said, cutting me off. "I get it. I think I'd feel the same way if I was in your position. But you're wrong. I know nothing I can say or do will prove it, but it's true."
He stared ahead, the lines in his forehead creasing and then relaxing. "I don't have any other friends, as pathetic as that may sound. Regardless, if I stayed because of sophomore year or in spite of it, the point is I stayed. It was my choice. I want to be here."
I hadn't expected the first day of school to be so heavy.
"You know it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with him," I pleaded, as I looked back across the courtyard for Nathan. He was sitting at one of the central tables, surrounded by friends and enemies—a pretty girl on his right and a wrestling teammate on his left.
"I do. I mean I hate him as much as you do. Maybe even more. I just don't show it," he said.
"And I show mine?" The words flew from my mouth as my quiet anger awakened.
"You don't have to get defensive. I'm not the one to blame." Izzy crossed his arms and sulked against the wall.
"No one’s to blame. No one but me," I replied as I closed my eyes.
Izzy scoffed, he always scoffed at my pessimism. "Just because it was by your hand doesn't mean it was your fault."
I opened my eyes. "No one is responsible for the work of their own hands, but them," I replied.
Izzy grunted. "God, we sound old. I even feel old. I mean look, I have gray hairs!" He pushed his head in front of mine and ran his fingers through his curly locks as he continued to mumble. "I still don't think he's blameless. And you shouldn't either."
I pulled my notebook back onto my lap and once more, began to highlight. "Everyone deals with the consequences of their actions. Whether we see it or not. And as far as your gray hairs go, I blame your parents."
"I doubt Nathan does," said Izzy. "He gets away with everything. Always has, always will. And I think you're right. I blame my parents too." He turned to me and smiled. It was forced, but honest.
"The thing with Nathan is that he wasn't taught any better. I'm not excusing his actions, but if you knew his parents—his mother, his father. It'd be easier to see it. You might feel for him."
Izzy rolled his eyes and grabbed a bag of sunflower seeds, chewing them, and then spitting the seeds out of his mouth and onto the ground.
"Might," I replied.
He stared at me with wide-eyes. "He really messed you up, Javi."
"No. I messed up," I closed my notebook, "by caring too much."
"Caring too much?" asked Izzy.
"About him," I replied.
"Do you still care?"
"Yes, but only in the means of attaching an importance to him."
"An importance to Nathan?"
"Yes," I replied.
"I don't understand," said Izzy.
"He's important because I hate him." My knuckles hardened at my words. It was harsh, but it was truth. I watched Nathan and kept an eye on him in order to protect myself. I didn't strike back in the beginning, but if given the opportunity, I'd strike back now. I could only use his parents as a crutch for so long. The decisions he made now were his own.
"You staying or going?" Izzy asked as he stood up and brushed his jeans off. The bell followed as the rest of the campus moved in unison.
I looked up at Izzy and then scanned my surroundings. "Staying," I replied.
He turned around and walked away without another word and I sat—alone. If Izzy wasn't around, I was always alone.
Alone. Alone. Alone.
***
My last period was quiet. The open hallways of our campus were empty, but the classrooms were full. So I roamed. There wasn't anything important going on in Honor's Spanish anyway. Administration just wanted to contain me. Ever since I corrected Mrs. Rojas's improperly worded question on our midterm last fall I could come and go as I pleased. No one questioned me. No one cared.
My shoes slapped the concrete flooring as I flicked the locks hanging from our lockers. I pulled down, choosing at random, and if one clicked open, I slipped it out of its place and found it a new home. Some students were too lazy to protect their belongings. This was a simple courtesy. A reminder. A playful gesture.
I made my way down toward the lower level of campus. A few students were always sprinkled in the dark recesses. The quiet little alcoves. Most were probably feeling up some unknown girl or getting high.
Our school was classy—brick buildings, green lawns, and tulips in the flowerbeds—but it was still public. The student body reflected that. A conglomerate of rich, poor and middle class.
I looked around, checked the bushes, and scanned the classroom doors—all closed. Not a single stir, voice or chuckle to be heard. I was safe. My toe kicked in the door and I entered the restroom. It was part of my plan. My plan to get over my fears, heal my invisible wounds and not let Nathan win.
Because so far he had won.
I pushed open every stall and made sure nobody was inside. The door closed with a hush and only a single slice of light peered through. This was my safety net, the only assurance that I wouldn't be left inside. I needed to close it though. Get past it all.
Sweat had begun to trickle along my neck and my skin flushed. Taking my hand out of my pockets, I brushed the sticky lint onto my pants and reached for the door. To stay or leave. All this time and I couldn't decide. Almost two years to the date. I kept repeating my mom's words over and over again.
"The only way to conquer your fears is to face them."
And here I was, facing them for what seemed to be the millionth time, but like a bad dream or scary movie, I just couldn't open my eyes. My lungs began to twitch, searching for the air that was abundant, but not present. Distant voices began to pour in and I knew it was now or never. Now or never.
And I just couldn't face never.
My eyes flicked up and down along the line of light peering through the door. A lifeline to normality. My only extension of hope that I would—could be normal again. And so I kicked the door with an anger born of fear and it was gone. The light. My extension.
I stumbled backward against a stall divider and my self-control dropped to the cold floor. My fingers rubbed circles into my eyes as my knees knocked against each other.
Open your eyes, Javi. Open your eyes!
It was my final step. My release from it all. And so I opened them.
The bathroom was black. No windows, no soft glow from the edges of the door. It was completely sealed and enclosed and I felt safe. This emotion was unexpected.
This floor, this space, this entire room was my final straw of excuses for giving up and now I felt—safe?
My body uncoiled as the tension and fear disappeared. I relaxed against the stall, breathed and then began to remember.
Remember everything that happened that night and the events that spiraled out of control as an effect. I could still smell the cologne I wore as I buttoned up the front of my tux and took one last look in the mirror. And then everything blurred as I pictured Nathan standing over me as he shoved me into the bathroom and whispered his last words, "A world in which you have something that I can't will never exist."
My eyes twitched as the bathroom filled with light and then went black. The interruption distracted me from my thoughts, but his words never left me. I never had the things in life Nathan did, but somehow he managed to hate me for it. I stood to exit, but the door wouldn't open. It was locked.
I tried one more time. Nothing.
No, no, no. Not again.
Not again.
***
I started with a few knocks, trying to get the attention of any students who walked by. Nothing. The past sat gurgling in my throat as I yelled, "Hello, hello!" and then pounded heavier between
each word. It wouldn't take long. It didn't take long.
Three,
Two,
One.
And then I lost it.
My voice screamed through the walls, up the stairs and spread out across campus. I began punching the door until the flesh on my knuckles became wet. My shirt soaked with anxiety.
"Help! Help! Help!" I threw at the door. Each pound, each scrap against the wood broke me. It undid everything I had just accomplished. I would never be healed. I could never be healed.
"Help! Help! Help!" I repeated in a trance. My knees took over for my hands as the blood became too slick. Pound. Pound. Pound. Help. Help. Help.
I couldn't be locked in here. I had to get out.
Pound. Pound. Pound. "Help! Help!"
"Hello? Are you okay?" A worried voice spoke on the opposite side of my freedom. The door jiggled from the outside. Whoever it was, they better have the key.
"Help! Help!" I screamed again as I kicked in the door one last time. My knee didn't stop though. It swung forward and took the rest of my body with it as I was thrown out and onto the black asphalt.
I could breathe. I could relax.
You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay. He's not here. He didn't do it.
Black pebbled flooring ground into the sides of my cheek as dozens of feet surrounded my prone form. I moved to get up, but flinched at the contact of soft hands on my arm. Even with the pain, I scuttled away like a frightened mouse. Refusing help was easy. I saw Izzy out of the corner of my eye. He stood square and hard, his head cocked to the right with his hand on his cell. His mouth opened, but he said nothing.
I moved with caution, trying to bring less attention to myself. This desire to blend in, however, was pointless. The blood dripping from my hands, my jeans gaping wide at the knees—it was confirmed, I was a freak.
And then he appeared. The source of all my problems.
"Jesus, Javi. Who the hell kicked your ass this time?" Nathan said with his left hand in his pocket and his right flung over the arm of some blonde. Casual confidence oozed from his stance and poured out into the crowd. His crowd.
I wasn't witty. I didn't have a quick rebuttal or some brilliant jab to lower his esteem and remove the gawking eyes from my situation. So I did the one thing I told myself I would never do.
I ran.
Chapter 4
Kindergarten - The Past
(Javier)
It was my first day. I was nervous, but excited. My mama worked late so Lita from next door was walking me to school. I don't think her real name was Lita. I think it was Carmen, but everyone called her Lita. So I did too. Lita watched me when my mama was working or when she was sleeping, which was a lot. I didn't mind because Lita was nice, but today I wished my mama was here. I'd never been to school before. It would've been nice to have her. Just a hug before I left. A hand squeeze. I don't know. But Lita was nice, so it was okay.
We entered the classroom and boy it was big. There were a ton of toys around and games and everyone had their own chair and desk. It was cool. Lita took me to the teacher and then handed me my bag.
"This is your teacher, mijo. You'll be with her all day until your mother comes to pick you up. Okay?"
I nodded and gave Lita a hug. She patted me on the head, said, "Have fun," and then left.
A very tall lady with glasses bent down to talk to me. "You must be Javier. I'm Mrs. Milton."
My mouth pulled up in an awkward smile. I knew it was awkward because it was the same smile I used whenever I met someone new. Mama told me so. I looked around, unsure of what to do next, until Mrs. Milton grabbed my bag and placed a hand on my back.
"This is your seat for the year. Your desk mate will be Nathan," she said, sitting my bag on top and pulling out my chair.
I took a seat and sat on my hands. There were name tags on every desk with stickers and colors decorating them. My feet tapped on the floor as I listened to the other kids talk. Some were playing, some were coloring, most seemed to know each other.
Everyone seemed to have someone. My desk mate hadn't arrived yet. I repeated his name over and over again. The bell rang just as he arrived.
"Nathan, come in and sit down quick. We're going to start."
He ran straight toward his seat and sat down. He threw his bag and jacket on the floor and then looked up waiting for Mrs. Milton to begin.
I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He seemed nice. I hoped we'd be friends.
Just as Mrs. Milton began I felt a tugging on my left sleeve.
"Jav-ee-er. I'm Nathan," he whispered, pronouncing the j in my name.
"It's Ha-vee-air, the j is pronounced like an h," I replied.
"Why?" he asked.
"I don't know," I replied.
Nathan looked confused.
"You can just call me Ha-vee, if that's easier," I said.
"Ha-vee. Okay. Do you want some sour gummy worms? I stole them from the pantry before I left."
Nathan opened up his hand and inside sat several colorful worms. "They're not real, are they?" I asked.
"No, silly. They're candy! You've never had a gummy worm before?" I shook my head no in response. "Well, try one. You'll like it."
He placed one in my hand and then pushed it toward me. "Eat," he said and gestured to place it in my mouth. So I did.
At first it was very sour and then it was sweet and then back to sour.
"It's good, right?" he asked.
"Mmmhmm," I replied, nodding my head in agreement.
Nathan shoved the remainder of his stash inside his desk and then turned his attention to Mrs. Milton. I did the same.
"Okay, class. Let's take out our crayons and begin with coloring our 'Welcome to Kindergarten' activity sheet," said Mrs. Milton as she passed around a stack of papers with images printed on them.
I watched the rest of the class as they pulled out boxes of crayons from their desks and backpacks. I placed my hand in my desk and felt around. It was empty.
"Nathan, where do we get the crayons?" I asked.
"You're supposed to bring your own. Did your mom forget?"
I looked in my bag. All I had was my jacket and my lunch. "Yeah, I guess so," I replied.
"That's okay, you can use mine." Nathan poured out several crayons onto my desk and started coloring. Every twenty minutes or so he would hand me another gummy worm. He had brought a lot to school. The more I ate, the more I liked them.
We did a lot of other activities that day. I didn't have any of the supplies, but Nathan let me borrow everything. He sat with me on the rug during lunch and gave me his extra Yoo-Hoo. I'd never had Yoo-Hoo. It tasted how I imagined chocolate milk would taste. I'd never had that either.
During the last hour of class, a kid who sat across from us came over.
"Hey Nate, can I have a gummy worm?"
Nathan looked up at him and then back at me. "I don't have any, Mikey," he replied.
"Liar. I saw you give some to him," said Mikey, pointing at me.
Nathan shrugged and went back to tracing the alphabet.
"I'm sorry I ate them all," I replied.
Nathan laughed. "I gave them to you. Mikey's a ding dong anyway. He's always wanting something from me," he said.
"Okay," I replied and we both went back to our tracing.
Parents began to peek inside the door, and some kids started putting their things away. I hoped my mom was here.
"Thank you so much for a wonderful first day, class," said Mrs. Milton. The bell cut her off as students began to squirm in their seats. "See you all tomorrow!" She smiled and dismissed us to our parents.
I handed Nathan his pencil and the remaining crayons. My mom walked inside just as I finished gathering my paper. My cheeks lifted, but I refrained from jumping up and screaming—I hadn't seen anyone else do it.
Nathan and I both stood and walked toward our parents. He put out his hand in front of me and said, "Last one."
I looked down and p
icked up a yellow and green sour gummy. He had saved it.
"Thank you, Nate," I replied.
Nathan put his arm around me and pulled me close. "Call me Nathan. Everyone else calls me Nate."
I saw Mikey looking at me from the corner of the room. His nose was scrunched up like he had just walked into a cloud of fart.
"Thanks, Nathan."
"I'll see you tomorrow, Javi," he replied and then went out the door with his mother next to him.
"Did you have a good first day?" asked my mama as she kneeled down to my side.
I smiled. It was big. And it was happy, but it wasn't awkward.
"The best, Mama. The best day ever."
Chapter 5
Telephone Wires
(Javier)
My bare feet walked me home with hesitation. The closer I got, the sooner night would fall and tomorrow would come.
Tomorrow.
The ground chilled my toes and held as a constant reminder—I would need new shoes. Again. The fourth pair in eight months. Although my mother understood my habits and tactics, she wouldn't be happy at the wasted expense. It was better than the alternative though. I think.
A green bench with peeling paint held my weight as I sat and stared at the cars passing by. We lived on a busy street, in a decent area with mixed wealth. She would be home now, getting ready for her second job, and I didn't want to explain my day. It would be obvious I had an altercation the moment I stepped through the front door.
The cuts, bleeding and bruises wouldn't alarm her. That was more of an accepted constant. It also pointed in the opposite direction—life, energy and exertion. No shoes meant a black looming cloud of fear for her and she hated it.
Hated. It.
I sat for a while longer, allowing myself to come to terms with my outburst. Two hundred and four more days and I could put it all behind me. Everything about high school—Nathan, the incident, losing my shoes, my nightmares. Starting new, moving away, even being away from my mom, it would all be good. Necessary. Because this place, this place was still killing me. I didn't even realize a piece of me was missing until it was gone. That's how slowly I was being murdered.
Seeds of Hate Page 2