New To Me (Phan)

Chapter 14

It was the next morning and I really did not fancy going to school. I went about my usual morning routine at a much slower pace than usual in an attempt to delay the moment when I'd have to walk through those doors again.

I hadn't bothered going to my last class yesterday. I wasn't usually one to wag school but I was in no fit state to stay. I still didn't think I was in any fit state. Although I had calmed down considerably since my meltdown I still felt emotionally unprepared to face the day.

I had no idea what I'd do if I ran into Charlie again. Would I ignore him? Yell at him? Break down crying? Completely freeze? I don't know, I honestly don't. I was that much of an emotional wreck that I could no longer predict my actions. I could no longer trust myself to stay calm and collected, and to rely on reason and rationality.

I was broken, and I didn't know how to fix it.

I kept scolding myself mentally for over-reacting. I was able to look at the situation as if I were an outsider and recognise that what happened was not that big a deal. I knew that. But it affected me. And I hated myself for how much it affected me. I loathed how pathetic and scared and paranoid I was.

Despite my extensive dawdling I somehow managed to make it to school on time anyway. Great. At first I was genuinely surprised at how normal everything seemed. I didn't exactly know what I was expecting but it wasn't this. I wasn't expecting for literally nothing to have changed, but that seemed to be the case. It would appear that I had widely overestimated the backlash of yesterday's events.

I was just starting to relax a little bit and let the tension drain out of my shoulders when it happened. "Fag." someone spat, bumping into me as they walked pass. I quickly turned around to see who had done it, terrified that it was Charlie, but it wasn't. I didn't know who he was actually. I didn't recognise him at all. I stood frozen, my heart pumping ice through my veins.

It was even worse that it wasn't Charlie. It meant that word had spread. This person probably had no idea who I was before yesterday. He knew literally nothing else about me besides the fact that I was a supposed 'fag.'

I took a deep breath and focused all of my attention of placing one foot in front of the other. Calm down. Don't freak out again. 

It was as if I were a pane of glass, already riddled with cracks. I was trying desperately to hold myself together but I knew that with the slightest provocation I'd shatter.

I kept my head down as I walked to my locker, avoiding the gaze of the people around me. I didn't know if they actually were looking at me, but the rising paranoia within me convinced me that they were.

It was only as I was about to put in my combination that I actually looked up. There, carelessly drawn in black permanent marker and taking up the entirety of my locker, was a dick.

Now every school, every sidewalk, every conceivable site prone to graffiti was littered with dick drawings. Because for whatever reason, that's what teenagers found amusing. 

But this wasn't a random scribble out of boredom. This was put here on purpose. I knew it. The person that put it there knew it. And I'm willing to bet everyone else in the school knew it too. It didn't need much clarification for people to get what it was in reference to.

I heard snickering from a group of people to my right. When I looked over at them they immediately stopped, or attempted to at least. Some of them failed to wipe the smirks off of their faces and others attempted to stifle giggles behind their hands.

"Just ignore it. People are idiots." I jumped at the sound of Phil's voice. He was stood beside me looking at my locker with a small frown on his face.

I hastily opened it, stuffed my books away and slammed it shut, this time making Phil jump (and everyone else in the near vicinity).

"Dan-" he began, but I didn't hear the end of it. I had already stalked off. Or tried to stalk off. Some smart ass thought he'd stick his foot out and try to trip me up. I didn't fall but I did stumble, causing a few people to snicker and my face to heat up.

That's pretty much how the rest of my day went. How the rest of my week went in fact. It wasn't anything extreme. I wasn't beaten to a pulp, or tossed in rubbish bins. No, my torturers were more subtle, more passive aggressive, but they were relentless nonetheless. I was called names. I was shoved in hallways. I had paper thrown at me in classes. I was stared at, whispered about, snickered at.

It got to me, it really did. Though little, every word and every action chipped and sliced and carved away at me, gradually tearing down my confidence, my sanity, my happiness.

Why was this happening to me? Why was I being the only one attacked? Was it not common knowledge that Phil and Charlie actually dated? Where was the backlash of that? Why weren't either of them getting called fag by strangers and tripped in hallways? Or maybe they were and I just never noticed. No, Phil would have told me if that was happening to him. I was sure of it.

Perhaps it was simply that Phil was too kind, too friendly, too much of a ray of sunshine for anyone to even consider picking on. It'd be the equivalent of kicking a puppy. And Charlie was too intimidating. Even more so after completely annihilating me at that party.

But they had no reason to leave me alone. I was a perfect punching bag that Charlie had painted a massive red target on.

It was easier when no one knew who I was, when I coasted along the sidelines. Never popular, never hated, just generally never noticed. And that was fine by me. It was ideal, even. But now I'd been thrust into the lime light and not in a good way. 

I was the guy that lost a fight at a party that one time. I was the guy that got outed as gay in the middle of the lunch room. I was the guy that was too awkward and too socially inept to have more than three friends. These had become my defining characteristics.