Bruised Knuckles

6. eraser cap

From my parents room, smoke traveled into the hallway and made the whole house stink like weed. I waved the fog away as I walked into the bathroom, slamming the door shut so nobody could bother me. I pressed my palms down onto the countertop and shifted most of my weight there, closing my eyes as I took a deep breath in. I slowly let my eyelids open, staring back at my own reflection. The mirror was so dirty with toothpaste I appeared speckled, making it hard to concentrate on my own image.

"God damn," I whispered to myself in the mirror, trying to look past the splattered toothpaste. I shook my head, letting my eyes travel back up to meet my own in the mirror once more.

I stared at myself for a while, a few minutes actually, wondering what was wrong with me. I'm gay.

My family knows, one of my teammates know, but that's it. I'm keeping it as low key as possible, I told myself again. I didn't want to appear differently towards anyone.

I let the water start flowing from the spout in the bathroom, cupping both of my hands under the weak stream. It wasn't getting any warmer so I just splashed it onto my face, cold. I rubbed the water into my skin with my fingers and winced at how ice cold it was, continuing anyway. I patted my face dry with a tattered towel that smelled like musk.

I admitted to myself that my life was probably heading downward, everything seemed to be traveling south lately. I didn't know if it was because I was craving real food or I was lacking sleep, but regardless, I was angry and sad. I clasped the doorknob and left the bathroom, walking straight across the hall to my room I shared with Devian.

Our room was probably the size of a closet with two twin mattresses, one against the side of each wall with a small space in the middle and in the corners our mattresses didn't touch. Aspen and my parent's room were about the same size, except they both had queen mattresses and a box spring. Yeah, it sucked. My clothes usually stayed crumpled in the corner of the room or downstairs in the dryer until I needed them. There was barely any room for Devian and I to move.

I curled up on my bed, propping the pillow against the wall before I rested my head against it. I took a really deep breath in, letting it out in a slow exhale. My hands were gently rested against my stomach, watching them move with each breath I took. I finally closed my eyes and fell asleep.

In the morning, Devian and Aspen waited for me outside. I was struggling to find a shirt to wear in the dryer, considering my mom's clothes were mixed in with mine. Each time I thought I found a shirt that belonged to me, I was let down as I pulled out either a blouse or oversized shirt with various bleach stains. Finally, I threw something on and ran through the living room to reach my siblings outside.

Aspen's face was flushed, eyebags making her appear like she was Devian's number one customer. I watched her as the three of us walked in silence, her dirty blond hair falling into her face in somewhat greasy strands before her fingers would push it away. She didn't even make eye contact with Devian and I, and I could tell nobody really wanted to break the silence. That was fine with me.

Once inside the school, I found myself walking alone to Mogford's class. I arrived ten minutes early and it was only Mogford, the kid in the black hoodie who sleeps with his hood up and head down, and myself. I leaned back against my chair in the back row, watching Mogford meticulously write down several physics equations on the board. He didn't seem to notice or acknowledge my presence walking into the classroom, until he paused his writing and turned around.

"Where is your sister?" He asked with his glasses tilted towards the tip of his nose. I shrugged and nudged my head in the direction of the hallway, "Probably getting breakfast." Mogford nodded in a slow movement, like he was taking in my comment, dissecting every aspect of that complex reply. He turned back around to continue writing on the board.

I rolled my eyes at him and bent down over the side of my desk to reach my book bag, shuffling some things around to find a piece of paper. Instead, I found a book cover that must have ripped off, a smashed granola bar, and three eraser caps. Pushing those things to the side, I found half a sheet that I carefully spread out onto my desk.

"Can I have an eraser cap?" This voice traveled from next to me, causing my body to slowly shift in my seat to the right, which was the direction I heard the voice from. The boy with the cut lip was sitting next to me now, a crooked smile on his perfectly freckled face. I just kept staring at him in shock, wondering how he could get past me without any recognition on my part. Better yet, I was wondering how he even saw those pesky little eraser caps in my book bag. I nodded anyway, bending back down in the other direction to anxiously shuffle through my book bag again to find those notoriously small eraser caps. I found a neon green one, cupping it in my palm as I quickly transferred it to the boy with the cut lip.

In return, he smiled and set his calculator down on his desk, leaning in closer to my chair.
"Thanks. There's a test coming up, want me to help you study?" The boy said with apprehension in his voice, his facial expression looking either like I was going to murder him or he was going to throw up. After all, the question was a little random.

I thought about the idea for a few seconds, remembering how much I hated asking for help from other people. I knew I had to let that mentality go, so I grasped the right words to say, "Yes. That would be helpful."

He scribbled a time and place for Saturday on a teared off piece of notebook paper, handing it to me with shaky hands. I didn't bother looking at it yet, saving it for when I got home. I studied him again, this time focusing on the scar that was barely visible across the side of his head. I tucked the paper in my pocket and looked away, but before I did so, I noticed how perfectly his nose sloped from the side, his profile something you would see in a magazine. I caught myself smiling from his sheer flawless features, biting back my lip as I watched my classmates shuffle into the classroom to forget about what I just saw, my cheeks flushing. I loved how he was either oblivious to my staring or he just couldn't have cared less.

"Fuck," I mumbled to myself and rested my head into the palms of both of my hands, covering my hot cheeks which were probably as red as a firetruck, so nobody else would see.
Aspen walked past my desk with a held back smile, watching me from the corner of her eyes.

I suppose she knew, just from my body language, that this new boy with the cut lip wasn't an ordinary kid from Riverside. This boy was something special.