“Take your fucking pill and get out of here. It’ll kick in by the time you get upstairs. Don’t be late for school.”
I felt victorious. With the pill in my hand, I gingerly walked toward the kitchen and poured a glass of orange juice. I put a couple slices of bread into the toaster and sipped on the juice while I waited. I’d never taken one of the pills before school, so though I was a little unsure about how I’d react during the day, I knew I wouldn’t be able to physically make it to school if I didn’t take it. I tossed the pill back, knowing it was my only option. I set the glass of juice on the table and grabbed a plate from the cabinet. Each step I took, I paid attention to the amount of pain I felt radiating through my body. I managed to butter the toast and spread some grape jelly onto the slices, but my walk to the table was still treacherous. I carefully sat on the wooden chair. This would be my test as to how I’d do during the day.What if the pill doesn’t kick in? What if it does and then it wears off before I get home?
“You’re not ready for school yet?” I looked up when I heard my dad’s condescending voice.
“I just left your office a few minutes ago!” I tossed the rest of the toast onto the plate. “I have to eat something so your fucking pill to keep me quiet doesn’t rip my stomach apart like usual! I need to go to school, so I need to eat!”
Dad leaned against the counter and listened to me have my fit. But really, it was his fault, and I had no problem reminding him of that.
“You’re the one who lets him do this crap to me before school. It’s not fair.”
“Are you done?”
I ignored him and ate the toast as quickly as I could. I needed to have something in my stomach with that pill. As I walked slowly to the dishwasher, I downed the rest of my juice. Though I couldn’t feel pain from where he had hit me with the belt, I could tell there were a few cuts because of the way my t-shirt stuck to my back. But I was frustrated that I could still feel everything from Sebastian. I carelessly put my dishes in the dishwasher and slammed the door shut.
“Patrick!” Dad yelled as he grabbed my t-shirt and pulled me closer. “You don’t pay the bills around here, nor do you buy anything. Treat things with respect.”
“How about treating me with some respect?”
I started to cry uncontrollably. Tears, the choppy, shaky sounding words, the stomach pain. Everything signaled that I was falling apart. Dad let go of me and took a step back. God forbid he actually show me an ounce of respect once or just hug me for a moment.
“I hurt everywhere!” I yelled my justification for having an emotional breakdown in the kitchen.
“The pill will work. It always does, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, but it hasn’t yet!”
“Wipe your snotty little nose, go upstairs, get ready for school, and hold a cold washcloth over your eyes for a few minutes. Then come downstairs and I’ll drive you to school. That way you won’t exert yourself with walking.”
For whatever reason, I took it as his way of saying sorry and that he’d help me. At least this morning. I took my clean clothes into my bathroom and locked the door behind me. I didn’t dare trust anyone in this house when I was in the bathroom changing.
I pulled my shirt off and turned so my back was facing the mirror. I hesitated a moment before glancing over my shoulder.Fuck!It looked a lot worse than it felt.
“Patrick! Let’s go!” Dad’s agitated voice carried up the stairs.
Fucking give me a goddamn fucking minute!
I bit down on the inside of my mouth as I felt the skin on my back pulling away from the cuts. Some of the blood had dried, and moving my arms was separating the cuts. While Dad continued to yell out my name, I pulled on the clean clothes and hurried through my morning routine.
“Patrick! I need to leave for work!”
“I’ll be right there!” I yelled back.
I wiped my watery eyes with the back of my hand and then picked up my shoes. I leaned against the bathroom counter while I loosened the laces and raised my leg so I could put the sneakers on. I raced to my bedroom and grabbed my backpack. I winced and held my hand over my stomach while I went down the stairs.
“Feeling any better yet?” Dad had the nerve to ask me.
“No!”
“Quit your bitching and get in the car,” he barked.
I sat quietly on the way to school. I didn’t think I could have managed to walk and get to school on time. Since Dad took me to school, I made it there much earlier than I would have if I had walked. I sat alone in the courtyard and watched some of the morning stuff that I usually missed. Girls giggling with their friends. Guys high-fiving one another. A small group of kids reading. The cheerleaders practicing their moves by the doors to the gym. The Metallica kids sitting on the edge of a planter, and a big group of the popular kids congregating by the planter opposite where I sat.
At the center of the popular kids was Hollis Hawkins. He and I were about the same height, but I had nowhere near the muscle he did. We were both in tenth grade. When did the memo come out saying sophomore guys should look like that? I glanced around the courtyard at the other guys. There were other boys wearing letterman jackets that were also tall but were either juniors or seniors. I frowned when I looked closer at the kids near Hollis… They were all either juniors or seniors. Everyone talked to him and he talked back to them. Even a kid just passing by called Hollis’ name, and he acknowledged them.
Man, to be Hollis Hawkins for a day.
I pulled out my blue composition book and mindlessly drew on the back cover. I drew a letter H and retraced the letter over and over until a deep, dark impression had been left on the cover. I drew Hollis’ name on the hood of the car I had drawn. Then to cover his name, I sketched a black line down the hood to make it look like a pinstripe. I colored it in with my black pen and then gave the hood another pinstripe.
