by Dirk Hunter
“Don’t get involved, Dylan. Mr. Hayes is gonna flip if you get sent in twice in a week. And you’ll be the one getting detention this time. Let one of the teachers stop Adam,” Mel said.
But neither of the teachers set to watch over the lunchroom seemed to notice. They were caught up in some discussion, oblivious to the plight of the underclassmen. As usual. Kai raised an eyebrow, obviously expecting me to step up and put Adam in his place.
“You’re right, Mel,” I mumbled dejectedly into my food. Kai nearly choked in surprise.
So I sat and watched, getting angrier and angrier with each malicious laugh that floated across the lunchroom. Mel kept trying to engage me in conversation but eventually quit, probably tired of me answering in grunts and monosyllables. Kai occasionally gave me sidelong looks, as if wondering who I was and what I’d done with the Dylan he knew. But he didn’t say anything, which was probably for the best; the angrier I got the more likely it became that I’d accidentally snap at my best friend. It was probably only five minutes that I sat and watched, but it felt like an hour, and by the end of it, I was seething with rage.
See, I really felt for that kid.
In elementary school, I was often the victim of the older kids’ desire to exert dominance, prove their masculinity, impress the equally small-minded ladies, or whatever their bullshit reason was. When Adam had joined in, I thought I would die. It was one thing to avoid kids a few grades above me, but Adam was around every minute of the day. I’d sit there, trying to hide my tears from everyone, even Kai, until one day I just snapped. I remembered it perfectly: I was in the third grade and we were outside for recess. The fifth graders’ recess overlapped ours by about ten minutes, and every day those ten minutes were my personal hell. But this one day, I was cornered by the usual trio of bullies — shoving me, calling me a wimp, a fairy boy, a ginger freak — and I lost it. I turned to the shortest of the three — still taller than me, I might add — and let loose. Not with my fists, but with my words.
Years of pent-up aggression flowed out of me as I insulted his face, his intelligence, his family, anything that crossed my mind to use against this demon who’d tormented me for so long. I finally finished by saying that the only reason he liked to pick on me so much was because he just wanted to suck my tiny, third-grader dick. He turned bright red. It was awesome. And to my surprise, the other two started laughing. Hysterically.
After a minute, so did the kid I’d just finished berating. From then on, it became less bullying and more a game: they’d insult me, I’d insult them, and the shoving stopped. And usually, I won. Best of all, I’d finally found a way to fight back against Adam without having to, you know, fight — Adam had always been much bigger than me.
Ever since then I’d made it my personal mission to get between a bully and his victim. I’d disarm them with wit, charm, and no small amount of humor. More often than not, they’d end up liking me in the end and give up the bullying, at least while I was around. So now, watching Adam bullying some poor little kid two years younger than us, a kid who had no chance of defending himself, was torture. The worst part was that I was doing it to spare the bully’s feelings. What the fuck was wrong with me?
Right then, the new kid’s lunch tray flew through the air, knocked out of his hands by Adam. From the table of freshmen, one of the kid’s friends finally jumped up to go tell a teacher — things had gotten serious. I saw Adam step closer to the kid, using his height to menace, a mean grin on his face. Before I knew it, I was on my feet and halfway across the lunchroom.
Behind me, I heard Kai mutter, “Finally.”
“You know what we do to little fag boys around here?” I’d gotten close enough hear what Adam was saying. The new kid looked like he was about to wet himself. Adam towered over him threateningly. Of course, Adam wasn’t really gonna do anything. He’d never been one to actually attack a kid; his bullying stayed purely in the realm of the verbal. But while I knew this, the new kid definitely didn’t.
“Oh, Adam, when will you learn?” Adam turned to me, malicious grin turning into a baleful frown. The new kid didn’t need my prompting this time. As soon as his bully’s back was turned, he ran. “Beating up on some poor kid will never make up for all the hugs Daddy never gave you.”
It took me a minute to piece out what happened next. The first thing I noticed was that I was on the floor. The second, that everyone was yelling. Pain came third. I looked up at Adam, shock and rage playing across his face in equal parts.
“You punched me,” I finally managed to say.
“OF ALL the stupid thing you’ve done, Mr. Anderson, this has got to be the worst.” Mr. Hayes had been berating Adam for the past five minutes straight. We were back in his office, sitting in those same chairs. For a second I could almost believe it was still yesterday, if it weren’t for the pain in my jaw. “Coach Miller is going to have my head for this, but unless you can think of a very good reason for me not to, I’m going to have to suspend you.”
“It wasn’t his fault.” I immediately regretted saying it. Talking hurt a lot right then.
“What?” Mr. Hayes and Adam said in unison. Their disbelief sounded so identical I almost laughed. Almost.
“I moved forward at the last minute. I wasn’t supposed to. We’d practiced this for weeks, but I got a little carried away and stepped forward. And BAM, right in the jaw. Stupid mistake, really. That’s what I get for being a little too into character, you know? Didn’t hit my mark, though Adam hit his perfectly. All my fault.” I realized I was babbling, so I snapped my jaw shut, getting another wave of pain for my effort.
“What are you saying, Mr. O’Connor?”
“It was a fake punch. Or it was supposed to be. Thought it’d be hilarious. We had this whole routine worked out. I was even gonna break a chair over Adam’s back, just like in pro wrestling.” I could feel Adam staring at me, but I kept my eyes fixed on Mr. Hayes. “No one knew, not even Kai. It was going to be the best practical joke ever. No one was supposed to realize it was fake until the chair bit. We’d have been the coolest kids in school.”
Mr. Hayes passed his hands in front of his eyes and sighed.
“Fighting is no laughing matter, Mr. O’Connor.”
“Oh, I get that now, sir. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, right? It was just a stupid drama-club bet, see who could do the most convincing scene in public. Thought for sure I’d win; no one would suspect I’d team up with Adam. Heck, maybe I’ll still win. Do you think a real punch disqualifies me?” Mr. Hayes studied me intensely. I think he was waiting for me to break, start laughing — something that would give away that I was lying. I kept my face serious.
Finally he relented. “Alright, Mr. Anderson. Looks like you’re off the hook. Next time, though, you might want to use a little bit more common sense when it comes to what’s appropriate for the lunchroom.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hayes. I will.” He left.
“I don’t know what you’re playing at, Dylan —”
“I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“— and I don’t want to know. I said I’d give you detention if you got into any more shenanigans with Adam, and I meant it.” I winced. This was exactly what I needed today. To my surprise, however, Mr. Hayes smiled.
“But it looks like you’ve gotten enough punishment for your foolishness already.”
“Oh, I have. Honest.” I said with a laugh, which only hurt a little. I’d figured out the trick of talking without moving my jaw very much. I probably sounded more than a little mumbly. I stood up to leave, but Mr. Hayes stopped me at the door.
“Oh, Dylan,” he said, “next time I see you across my desk, consequences will be dire.”
Outside the principal’s office, I found Adam waiting for me. He didn’t say anything, though, just fell into step beside me as I made my way to my locker. He kept glancing around the halls as though expecting someone to jump out and catch him at something — hanging out with me, I guess — but class had already
started, and the halls were empty.
Finally, he opened his mouth to speak, stopped himself, looked back at Mr. Hayes’s door, saw it was closed, and said, “Why did you do that for me?” I was surprised to realize that I didn’t even need to think about the answer. I had acted on instinct back there, without really knowing why.
But something about the way Adam asked — I’d never heard him speak so softly before, so completely without scorn — made me realize in an instant.
“We’ve known each other since kindergarten, Adam. In all that time, you’ve called me names, fired spitballs at me, shoved my head in a toilet once, and you gave me wedgies for a week until I convinced everyone you were secretly gay and just wanted your hand down my pants. You’ve tripped me. You’ve pinched me. You’ve dumped things in my locker. But you have never, ever hurt me.” I stopped walking, turned to Adam. He refused to meet my eye. “See, I think I did something wrong. Crossed some unwritten line of our little back-and-forth. I have no idea what that line was — the whole lunch seems like a blur to me right now — but I think I must have crossed it.”
Adam met my gaze for a second and looked away. He nodded. “It’s not entirely your fault. I haven’t been myself lately.”
Wow. Was that magnanimity, from Adam? “Listen, if you ever need someone to talk to….” What was I even saying?
Adam laughed bitterly. “Yeah, like I could trust you. Anything I told you, you’d just throw back in my face, probably in front of everyone.”
I bristled at the accusation. Sure, I liked poking fun at Adam — who wouldn’t? — but I’m not cruel. “Last December, you were a superdouche.”
Adam gave me an annoyed look and started to interrupt. “Let me finish. I saw you go into the bathroom down by the band room, so I followed you in to, I dunno, tell you that you had a stupid face or something. It was probably really clever. But when I opened the door, I heard something I never expected. I heard crying.” Adam was staring at me. It seemed he remembered the day. “There was no one else in the bathroom, I’m sure of it. I shut the door as quietly as possible, so you wouldn’t know you’d been heard, and I left. I have never, until right this second, told anyone about that. And I certainly haven’t thrown it in your face to score cheap points. I’m not that guy. I am a good listener, however. Besides —” I smiled. “I already hate you, so you don’t have to worry about what I think, unlike with your friends.”
Adam was giving me an inscrutable look. “Why do you care all of a sudden?”
I shrugged. “I’ve always cared — hated, yes, but that’s still caring. Hating you has been one of the most constant things in my life. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t look forward to our verbal sparring every day. Over the summer, I write insults on note cards to prepare for the school year. I guess I just —” I hesitated. “— don’t want to lose that, okay?”
For the barest fraction of a second, it looked like Adam was going to open up to me. But then the bell rang, the halls flooded with students, and the spell was broken. His face hardened, and he practically ran in his haste to get away from me.
“Weird,” I said aloud, to no one in particular. Were Adam and I almost becoming friends? I laughed at the thought. Of course not. This was Adam we were talking about here. At best we were negotiating a truce.
CHAPTER THREE
AFTER SCHOOL there was a drama club meeting. Nothing important was discussed; it was mostly a chance for us all to hang out, sometimes play some improv games. For probably the first time, I found I didn’t really want to be there. Not only did my jaw hurt, but I was too distracted; I couldn’t seem to focus on anything. Eventually I just sat in the back of the auditorium and waited. Kai was my ride home, so I couldn’t leave.
Whenever anyone would ask why I wasn’t participating — I’m usually the life of the party — I’d point to my jaw and wince dramatically for effect.
Finally four thirty rolled around, and even the most die-hard drama kids were ready to go home. We all sat outside in the grass surrounding the auditorium as, one by one, parents came to pick up their kids. Soon it was just me, Mel, and Kai, waiting for Mel’s parents to show up. They had this bad habit of not showing up until well after five, but also forbade Mel from riding in any other kid’s car. They didn’t even trust Kai. Or, perhaps, especially didn’t trust Kai. Even my two best friends seemed to believe that my silence stemmed from my jaw pain, so they let me sit in solitude.
“Tom was saying we’re going to be doing another musical,” Mel said. “Oh God, that means we’ll all have to deal with Bitch Kathy acting like a diva again,” Kai complained, lying on his back in the grass. Mel punched him. “I mean, if you don’t get the lead, of course. Who knows? They could choose Screeching Harpy, the Musical.” She punched him again, laughing despite herself.
I watched a car start driving over from the direction of the football field. When he heard it approach, Kai sat up, probably thinking it was Mel’s parents. It was obviously not their car. The window rolled down. It was Adam.
“Get in,” he said, looking right at me.
Kai scoffed. “Yeah right. Like that’s going to happen.”
“Come to think of it,” Mel said, her voice dripping in sarcasm, “Dylan could use a matching bruise on the other side of his jaw.”
Adam gave no sign that he heard them. He just kept looking at me, waiting. So I stood up and walked over.
“Dude, you can’t seriously be thinking about going with him.” Kai jumped up and grabbed my arm. “He’s probably going to murder you and use your skull as a football helmet.”
Normally Kai’s attempts at humor would at least make me smile, but right then it just annoyed me. “Well, when they find my body, you’ll know who did it. Case closed.” I got in the car and slammed the door. Through the window, I said, “I’ll call you tonight.” Kai was staring at me like I’d sprouted wings and started breathing fire. Mel was giving me that narrow-eyed look she got when she thought she’d figured something out. I rolled up the window, and Adam drove off.
He didn’t say anything. I didn’t either. What could I say? Clearly he’d chosen to take me up on my offer. Well, if he wanted someone to listen, then I’d listen. But as the silence stretched on and on, I began to get a little uncomfortable. He didn’t even have the radio going to relieve the monotony. There were only the sounds of the car and the wind rushing by.
I looked over at Adam, but he kept his eyes firmly on the road ahead of him, his jaw clenched so tight I could see his cheek muscles popping. Out my window I noticed we were getting to the edge of town.
Okay, so maybe I hadn’t quite thought this through. Where were we even going? To Adam’s house? It dawned on me I had no idea where exactly that was. We weren’t headed toward a coffee shop or anything; the only buildings we were passing were houses, and those were becoming fewer and farther between. I thought about asking Adam where we were, but I stopped myself. He seemed to be working something out in his head, arguing with himself. So I decided to wait.
I didn’t need to wait much longer. We had entered a small wooded area, the road becoming all long and winding. Eventually the woods cleared a bit, leaving an open area maybe twenty yards across overlooking a small lake. There were no houses on the lake. This spot seemed to be totally secluded. A perfect spot for a murder, Kai’s voice whispered in the back of my head. I ignored it. Adam pulled off the road — there was a patch of gravel, looked like it was meant for a few cars to park on. Without even bothering to turn off the car, Adam threw open his door, forcefully enough to make me jump slightly, got out, and immediately started pacing in front of the car.
I sat there, not quite knowing what to do. Left and right he went.
Back and forth. I watched him through the windshield. He stepped quickly, almost violently, hands shoved in his pockets. Even from where I sat, I could see he was breathing heavily. He didn’t look like he was going to slow down any time soon, or get back into the car. Maybe this was his secret place where he went to
be alone for a while, do his thinking.
That was an odd thought: an introspective Adam. But it made a weird sort of sense. And where better to go when you needed to talk to someone, especially when you didn’t want anyone to know that you were even with that person?
So I got out of the car, walked around to the front, leaned against the hood, and waited. Adam kept pacing furiously, but occasionally glanced my way. Abruptly, he stopped and turned to me, looking like he didn’t know how to begin. Finally, instead of speaking, he pulled off his shirt.
I think I gasped then. His ribs were covered in fading bruises. “Ima go out on a limb and say those aren’t from football practice, are they?” I asked quietly.
“I need you to know he’s a good dad,” Adam replied through clenched teeth. He opened his mouth like he was about to say more, but instead spun around, walked off to the center of the clearing, and stood, staring out at the lake. A second later I followed, stood next to him. For a minute we were both silent, watching the gentle waves.
“He left, Sunday night. After….” Adam trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his ribs. I suddenly remembered how he’d sat in Mr. Hayes office with his arms crossed. At the time I thought he looked sullen; looking back it seemed like he was protecting himself, cradling his bruised ribs. “He’s not usually like this,” Adam continued. “It’s been really hard on him, Mom being in the hospital again. He’s just so angry.” He quivered with nervous energy. Unshed tears stood in his eyes. He started pacing again. “I don’t know what to do now. It’s just me and my brother. Pete dropped out of school, said he’ll figure everything out, but I just don’t know. I don’t know how we’re supposed to pay the bills. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. ”
I stopped Adam with a hand on his arm and drew him into a hug. I didn’t think about it — he just seemed in so much pain. He tensed up at first. For a second I thought he’d push me away, start yelling at me. But instead he relaxed and sank to his knees. I sat next to him and held him while he cried, clinging to me like I was the only thing keeping him from drowning.