Actually, that wasn’t completely true. Our neighbors had called the police several times during the past few years. It did no good. Police came, either myself or Sebastian were asked to remove our shirts, then Dad or Raquel explained the marks on me were from Sebastian and the marks on him were from me. The police reprimanded me or Sebastian. They’d leave, and Dad or Sebastian were just a little more careful for the next several weeks.
I quietly sighed as I slouched in the chair while I waited for the dean to call me. Friday of last week wrapped up my detention for being disruptive in math class. Math was the preferred class for me to be disruptive in because the subject came easy to me, so it wasn’t an issue to catch up on what I missed. I did try to rotate my disruptive behavior between a few classes so the teachers wouldn’t see it as too much of a habit that would warrant a call home. Those turned out really bad for me.
The truth of the matter was that I hated being a dick at school, but it was the only way to keep me from going home right away. Kids hated me because I was a jerk in class, and the front office hated me because I was up here almost weekly. I made sure I was decent during detention, though.
It was only Wednesday now, and I was back in the office. Going home after school on Monday and Tuesday about killed me, and I needed some excuse to not go home until necessary.
“Mr. Dawson.”
I looked up when the dean called my name. I stood and slung my backpack over my shoulder and followed him into the office I’d come to know too well. I sat in my usual seat and set my backpack on the floor beside my feet.
“So, what happened in gym class?” he asked.
I glanced at the report on his desk in front of him.
“Isn’t it on the report?”
“It is. But I want your version.”
I sighed and shifted in my seat.
“We were supposed to be running laps in class. Derek lapped me twice, and each time he went by, he punched me on my back and called me a pussy. The third time, I clotheslined him and tripped him,” I explained.
The dean looked at me and then down at the carbon copy of the report.
“I know Derek excels in athletics, but how did he manage to lap you nearly three times?”
“I wasn’t running. I was walking my laps.”
“Why weren’t you running?”
Why wasn’t I running? Obviously because I can’t! I’d love to be like other kids and fucking run with them or be good at sports! I can’t run because my stepbrother fucking pins me down and makes my life miserable! Every fucking step I take hurts and radiates pain through my body!
“I just don’t feel well today. Sore throat and all.”
“Perhaps you should have stayed home to get better, Patrick.”
Whatever. You have no clue how bad that would have been.
“You’re probably right,” I agreed.
“Alright, Patrick. Let’s go with another week of detention.”Sounds perfect.“Please keep your hands to yourself, okay?”
“Okay, but he started it! He hit me twice before I did anything!”
“You shouldn’t have retaliated.”
“Okay, so I’m just supposed to let someone hit me?”No fucking way, asshole. That happens at home, and I’ll be damned if that shit will happen at school too.
“You should have told your teacher.”
“He was on the other side of the track! I couldn’t get to him before I was hit again!”
“Calm down.”
“No. It’s not fair! I get hit twice by a kid at school, and I get in trouble for defending myself! That’s not fair!”
“Patrick, calm down. Or would you like to make it two weeks of detention?”
