The Carnivore [boyxboy]

Chapter 12

The next day, Rory was slightly worried about what was supposed to happen at school. It wasn’t really his problem, but what if Kristen decided to tell everyone about Deacon? Deacon didn’t want other people knowing and Rory wasn’t even sure why he knew anyways.

Even if it had gotten out though, Rory wasn’t sure the information would find him. Being a freshman boy with limited friends probably put him on the bottom of the chain for hearing anything like it. He tried to watch the people in the halls, seeing if they were talking about anything new and exciting. Everything just seemed normal, though.

By third period, Rory again had to dig in to his stash of Band-Aids. The amount of split skin on his knuckles was increasing and so he tried to cover it up. Maybe he should ask his mother to get him some Band-Aids too—he couldn’t just keep going to the nurse, or she might start asking questions.

He thought about Mr. White then. That would probably happen that day. It was more than just one or two Band-Aids now. He had tried to put lotion on his hands but it still didn’t seem to be enough. He still couldn’t stop himself from putting on more hand sanitizer.

And on top of everything else, it was a Monday. Rory was dragging through it all, even into his art class. It even hurt to properly hold onto the pencil then for a straight hour with his knuckles stinging all the way along. He wasn’t sure painting would be any better either—he still had to hold something.

Lunch was only a short reprieve from having to take notes. He almost wanted to ask Kristen if she had lotion he could borrow because she usually carried things like that. But he didn’t want to share it and he had a feeling scented lotions would make it worse too.

Rory debated skipping Mr. White’s class as it got later in the day. Mr. White would ask questions and insist on seeing a counselor again, or something like that. Maybe he would be too focused on Deacon to notice. Unlikely.

But Rory couldn’t make himself skip. He did wait outside the door of the class until the last minute before the bell, hoping to rush by and make it to his seat without giving Mr. White much time to pay attention to him. Rory listened his best and tried to avoid taking notes through the class.

It didn’t make a difference though. Mr. White stopped him after class. He eyed Rory’s hands with a set frown. “Quite the collection there,” he commented.

Rory stuffed his hands into the pockets of his pants, guiltily trying to hide them. Mr. White sighed, scratching the back of his head. “I don’t know what else there is I can really suggest for you, Rory. I’m not… but doesn’t it hurt?”

Rory swallowed hard and clenched his hands. “I’ve been trying to put lotion on them. It’s just dry hands.”

“I’m…” Mr. White pinched the bridge of his nose. “I am going to have one of the counselors talk to you. They’ll send a slip of paper down saying when you should come see them. I might call your mother as well.”

“You don’t need to call her,” Rory protested quickly. Why did Mr. White have to keep trying to interfere where he didn’t belong? He was just one teacher of one class that Rory would be out of in a matter of months.