*Beep-Beep-Beep* You’ve heard it all before. I get all my stuff together and get in the vehicle. Mom asks if I have been being a moth. I tell her I am and then we get to school. I go to my locker and I see Marks again. I rush to my class before he can catch me. As I am switching classes from history I stop at my locker and get my water bottle. “Hey!” I hear loudly. I turn around. There’s Marks and I just spilled water all over him. He pushes me up against a locker next to mine and slams my arm in the door. It hurts really badly. I could explain it better, but my dad would whip me if I use that kind of language. I shove my stuff back into my locker and run to the bathroom. I look back. He almost looks guilty. Maybe he's not all that rough and tough when it comes to hurting people. He is still a delinquent. I lock myself in the handicap stall and cry my eyes out. Why God? Why me? After few minutes someone comes in and I shut up. They try getting into the stall. Why can't they just go away? They get on their knees. Oh my god, its Marks! He crawls under the stall door. I'm quiet and still, but on the inside I'm screaming. We just stare at each other. He is sitting with his legs crossed and his arms and his lap. “Look, I know you're not going to believe me, but I'm sorry, and no, nobody saw that and is making me apologize, because I know what it feels like.”
“No you don't”, I say. “You don't know what it feels like to be mistreated everyday for your entire life. You not naturally different. The only thing that makes you different is your attitude”
“Ire.”, he sighs. “I am different and I know what it feels like to be mistreated. I am at home. Maybe that’s why I am such a jerk to everyone else…”
“And you’re different how exactly.”
“Ire, I can’t believe I am going to tell you this after only knowing you for two days, but I guess I owe you for being a jackass. Both way you could run away and tell people what I did and I would get in more trouble."
"Ok. Your point. You didn’t really answer my question."
"I’m gay” I just look at him. He breaks down and begins crying softly. I don't know what to do. Oh gosh he's hyperventilating. I slide off the toilet and on to the ground next to him. I put my hand on his back.
“It’s O.K. It doesn't bother me. If that’s who you are and how you feel that’s fine. No human being should be and isn't able to control that. If it makes you feel any better. I don't hate you anymore. No matter how much I try. Does anyone else know?” He wipes his eyes and looks up. he calms down and opens his mouth;
“I tried telling my father, but that’s why he is in prison. He attacked me with a knife.” He takes off his black, leather jacket and the t-shirt under it. He put his finger on his ribcage. There is about a six inch scar running down his left rib cage.
“Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”
“I can’t believe I am about to say this but… do you want to sit with me at lunch?”
“Sure, and don’t worry. I won’t flip your tray in your...