s k i n

f o u r

Tuesday, October 15, 2019

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I nearly had an anxiety attack when I remembered my fourth-period gym class. I only had a pair of basketball shorts and a white tee shirt to wear. That would reveal everything on my arms and legs.

I looked down at the words on my wrist. I used a black marker to cover up the words I'd said about mine and Holland's future together. Thankfully, she wasn't in my gym class, so she wouldn't have seen anyway.

I could lie. I could tell the coach I forgot my gym clothes. A few of the girls used that excuse all the time. It might work for me too, if I was lucky.

Which I wasn't. Coach Blakely knew I kept spare clothes in an empty locker, so all I got was a big fat no. He told me, "I know what you're trying to do. I want to say yes, but I can't. You're a man, so man up."

I sulked into the boys' locker room. Kelly was already in the middle of changing, and I dropped my backpack on the bench beside him. I grabbed my extra clothes from my locker and started to undress before most of the other guys made their way in too.

As I pulled my sweatshirt off over my head, I felt Kelly's curious eyes watching me. It bothered me, but I didn't say anything. I understood why he couldn't help it. I'd want to know what kind of thoughts ran through my best friend's head, too.

I tugged on my tee shirt before taking off my pants and pulling on my shorts. Every time I looked down at my new skin, I'd notice something new I hadn't noticed before. On my left thigh were things I'd said privately to a therapist—terrible things I'd said about my mother. I'd been so mad, I didn't mean any of it. I didn't want anyone to know I'd said these things. I was so ashamed of them.

Kelly must have noticed my doom-and-gloom attitude, because he leaned toward me and said, "Hey. The first week is the hardest, but everyone stops caring eventually. And who knows—maybe there's a way to cover it up. Hollywood magic or something. Have you seen the things they can do with makeup these days?"

I gave him a faint smile, thankful to have him around to try and cheer me up. It was nice having a friend who'd been through exactly what I was going through.

Gym was the first class that went by quickly. All we did was run a few laps around the gym, some stretches, then a quick game of basketball.

Kelly tapped me on the shoulder as we stood beside each other on the sidelines. "Dude, Brad has been staring at you."

"Who hasn't?" I replied bitterly.

"No, I mean he's glaring at you. Did you do something to piss him off worse than usual?"

I turned in his direction, but his eyes were on the game. He glanced my way, and I saw what Kelly meant. He looked pissed.

I thought back to this weekend when I saved Holland from him. Was he still mad about that? Had he actually thought he was going to get lucky that night?

"Shit," I breathed. "He's definitely mad."

"What the hell did you do?"

"I pissed him off at the party last Friday," I explained. "He was bugging Holland, trying to flirt with her, so I swooped in and saved her. We left the party at the same time, so she gave me a ride. Pretty sure he saw us drive off together."

"Well, he must be pretty mad about it," Kelly said, "because he looks like he wants to kill you."

I looked back at him one more time, and our eyes locked. I felt a spark of fear at the hatred I saw in him. If his look told me anything, it was that we were going to war.

After class, I waited for most of the other boys to change and head out before I entered the locker room to do the same. I was fine with being late to lunch. Kelly was holding my spot in line, like always.

I rounded the corner to my locker, only to find Brad waiting for me. I cringed.

"Hey, Brad," I said as casually as I could manage. I only succeeded in sounding bitter. "How can I help you?"

"Quit the act, asshole," he said, pushing away from the lockers he'd been leaning against. "That was some stunt you pulled last Friday."

"Thanks," I said with a fake smile. "I've been drumming a while now. We've got a gig coming up if you're interested. Kelly and I—"

"I don't mean your performance, dumbass."

"Oh."

"I'd made plans to kick your ass, but it looks like you already got what was coming to you," he said with a cruel smile. "Now you're a freak inside and out."

He shot forward and grabbed me by the throat, shoving me up against my own locker. "Quit the bullshit. Don't interfere with me and Holland anymore. I'm taking her to the homecoming dance, and I expect not to see you there."

I shoved him off of me. "Fuck off. She'd never go with a dick like you."

He threw a punch so fast, I couldn't duck out of the way in time. His knuckles collided with my jaw, and the metallic taste of blood exploded in my mouth.

"As if she'd go with a creep like you either!" he shouted.

I regained my composure faster than he assumed I could, and I threw myself at him, my shoulder slamming into his gut and sending him into a row of lockers. He was quick to recover.

His meaty hands shot out and grabbed me by the shoulders, then he threw me down on the hard ground. All I could do to protect myself was shield my face with my arms. That didn't help me when he sent the tip of his boot into my ribcage.

I cried out, unable to help it. The pain in my side was like a wildfire that spread so quickly through my chest. For all I knew, he could've broken a rib.

Brad bent over me, pointing a finger in my face as he hissed, "Don't test me again, Finch. I won't go so easy on you next time."

With that said, he left. I heard the door slam behind him, but I didn't dare get up yet. I was completely alone, finally.

I curled up against the foot of my locker and closed my eyes. I wanted desperately to be anywhere but here.

I licked the blood off my lips and sat perfectly still for a long moment. Moving was pain, a white hot flare that erupted in my chest. I wasn't ready to face that yet, nor was I ready to go to lunch where I would be forced to socialize.

I sat there too long and only got up and dressed to meet up with Kelly before he'd start wondering where I was.