3. Stuck in a Love Triangle with a Girl and an Abusive Asshole... I Guess Some Patterns Repeat

Monday again, but this one was a lot worse than usual. It was Brad’s first day back from suspension, so of course his very first goal was to show off what a killer arm he has, nailing me right in the back of the head with a dodge-ball during first period gym. Didn’t seem to matter that the teacher put us on the same team for this tournament. I was stupid enough to step out in front, giving it my all in front of Heather for one of my throws and-- bam! My vision flashed black and I did a full face-plant. That cheap shot took me right in the side of the head, and it stings like you would not believe. My eyes were already flooding with involuntary tears, as Heather rushed to my side.

“Oh my God! Are you alright?” I couldn’t actually answer. I was seriously worried about the sounds that might escape if I stopped biting my lip to keep quiet. Still, I thought I should at least nod or something… That just worsened the dizziness.

Heather already left my side in favor of a nose to nose confrontation with her ex. “The hell is wrong with you?!” she demanded of Brad.

He shrugged, smiling like a psychopath. “My hand slipped. Sorry.”

“Coach!”

Mr. Wallace looked up from the magazine he was reading, sitting with his feet up on the bleachers at the side of the room. “What? Friendly Fire?”

“Not on purpose!” Brad lied.

“Whatever, Johnson. You’re out of the game. Go sit on the sidelines with the other eliminated. And you, just walk it off… uh…” He has no idea what my name is, not that I blamed him. I’m no star athlete. I tried my best to blend into the background during each and every team game and fitness test, skirting by with just above failing marks while trying not to sweat too much or look pathetic.

Pathetic I was though, red faced and streaming tears, keeled over on the floor – right in front of Heather.

I headed for the locker room, managing a quick gasp of, “I’m fine. Just need to… wash my face.”

“Told you he was a little bitch,” Brad whispered in her ear, and she elbowed him right in the stomach.

“Hey. Watch the physical contact!” coach snapped, seriously agitated he had to keep abandoning his ‘sports’ magazine. I’m sure there were some prime bikini shots in that Sports Illustrated, not at all porn, but close enough to keep the senses fully entertained.

“Sorry. My elbow slipped,” Heather savagely retorted.

I should have shot her a smile or something, expressed my gratitude, but I needed the hand clamped over my mouth to keep me quiet, at least until my blurry vision cleared.

Just walk it off, Julian. Get behind that door, and get a damn hold of yourself.

I took a few deep breaths in private and splashed some water on my face. There wasn’t even any blood. All that mass of rubber to the skull did was mess up my hair, and I spent way longer than I needed to getting that mop of curls back into presentable order. I didn’t want to go back out there.

Coach Wallace never sent anyone to check on me, so I really didn’t need to. The bell rang, and the locker room started flooding with dozens of jocks and fellow losers alike, so I retreated into one of the bathroom stalls to get the hell out of my way-too eighties uniform red shorts.

I know guys aren’t supposed to have a problem just whipping it out right in the open, casually chatting while they change, but it’s not just Brad being back here that made me avoid that crowd. I always got weird, like physically red-faced in that room of naked guys, never knowing where to look, so I always, without fail, joined the other scrawny losers in the toilet stalls, stripping off my shirt in private, far away from the aggressive clouds of body spray filling the other room.

I waited until the noise and chatter outside had fully quieted before creeping out of my cave with book-bag in hand. Walking in late to math class was going to be yet another awkward, all-eyes on me scenario… I’d rather have ditched. Maybe the teacher wouldn’t get around to reporting it and calling my parents…

I couldn’t even risk that scenario. A rebel I was not. I'd wind up running down the hall like a maniac to make it in by the bell before I ever risked a tardy slip.

I didn’t even make it out the locker room door though, before finding my way blocked by Heather and Brad. Brad had his arm out against the wall, leaned right down in Heather’s face. “Come on, baby. Just admit it. You miss me. You were waiting out here—”

“For Julian.” She cut him off, eyes going right to me. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” No ball-rash on my cheeks or bloodied nose, and hair looking perfect, I assured myself.

“Yeah, the wuss is fine, and you and I are going to be blowing off chem and grabbing lunch. My treat.”

“You’re right about the no-chemisty sitch,” Heather sniped, and Brad just stared at her blankly.

“Yeah. Chem sucks. So anyway, lunch. I was thinking--”

“Hey, Julian,” She shoved her way right past Brad’s domineering, tree-trunk sized bicep and put her hand on my arm with a winsome smile. “You picked out your tux for our prom night?”

Uh… our prom night? I did not know we were going together. I hadn’t even asked her yet, and shit, it was only a month away, so I guess that was seriously rude and--

“I’ll take that as a no,” she laughed, leaning in all the closer. “But I can’t wait for you to see my dress. It’s a v-neck.” She traced the line lower and lower between her breasts.

Brad turned his back. “Whatever. Take the loser new kid. Sure. I’ll be making out with Stacey in my Porsche.”

“You mean your daddy’s Porsche,” Heather teased, slinging her arm around my shoulders, so her breasts were pushing right up against my side... Keep your eyes on her face. “Daddy gives him a real nice allowance,” she confided in me, flickering her eyes back to Brad. “Julian on the other hand is an actual grown up, who works for his money and takes me out to way nicer places than fucking McDonald's!”

“You can never make up your damn mind on where you want to eat, so yeah, I picked the place with great fries. Sue me.”

“You were just too drunk to get the obvious hints or even think straight, you psycho!” Drunk but still driving. Yikes.

“Well, you’re a shitty lay, whore.” She stiffened, and I really should have said something heroic, attacked him for that.

“She’s not—”

Don’t think either of them even heard me. Brad was right up in my face, taunting way too loudly, “So have fun trying to jam your flaccid dick into that used-up--”

Heather lunged to claw his eyes out, and Mr. Wallace finally came out of his office and noticed us loitering in the otherwise deserted gym.

He broke up the fight before Heather could do any serious damage to her asshole ex and hauled them both down to the principal’s office.

I trailed along awkwardly and sat outside that office until Heather came out with eyes red from crying. She forced a smile the second she saw me, wiping at her nose. “Hey. Guess who’s not expelled?”

“Brad?”

“And guess who is suspended?”

“Sorry. I should have…”

She waved away the apology. “It’s fine. I just need to find someone to kill him for me, get him out of our lives forever. Then we’ll be totally fine.”

She had a weird sense of humor sometimes, but I felt I should at least offer, “I’ll kill him. I just need a… longer pen.” Lame attempt, but Heather was smiling anyway, sinking right down beside me with eyes on my notebook.

“You sketching your map to revenge then?” No, and I wanted to cover up that pair of eyes I was absentmindedly doodling while I waited here this period, but Heather had already taken the sketchbook right out of my hands.

I hate that. I straight up hated her just taking it over like that and flipping through the pages. “Don’t… I really don’t like anyone… They’re really rough, and--”

“Bullshit. These are…” She smiles all the broader and more wicked as she comes to my imitation of the Titanic sketch with the face of Heather Morris atop my full-bodied muse. “Why Julian, who knew you had such experienced depictions of the female nipple.”

“It’s technical. Practice. All classical artists sketch… And that movie just… But I shouldn’t have used your face--”

“Uh, of course you should have. I’m your girlfriend.” Really? That was the first time she said it. “I’d only be upset if it was some other girl’s face in here. But nope, just me, and landscapes, and random guys… Nope, French girl page is my favorite,” she asserted, flipping right back to her most scandalously imagined pose. “And not just because of hot, siren Heather. Your Leo head-shot is looking just as hot. Mmhmm. You should do him full frontal, keep it as a private little gift for me, pretty please.” She was right up against my ear again, and I wanted to slide my hand onto that thigh, grab hold of those lips and taste that tongue up against the roof of my mouth…

Then Principal Williams stepped right out of her office, loudly clearing her throat. “Miss Morris, I thought you were waiting for your father to pick you up. And you, young man, do we have an appointment?”

“No, ma’am. Just…”

“Missing second period?”

“I just… needed to make sure she was okay, after that whole…” Heather gave my hand a squeeze, and Williams arched an eyebrow.

“You were involved in that incident?”

“He caused the whole thing!” Brad called out from the office, and I spent the next thirty minutes talking my way out of a similar suspension to the one he was facing.

Maybe Heather really was a bad influence.

My teenage self did not hesitate for one second though, when she invited me over to her place the next night. Even with how awkward that night turned out, Luc would probably be disappointed that he wasn't the first to start eroding my moral compass.