Hate Thy Neighbor

{Ch. 3}

"What? No greeting back, Maxie?" Harper drawls, pretending to sound hurt.

I don't bother responding and instead, I try to pick up my textbook and highlighter but Harper pulls me back into him, clinging onto me uncomfortably. 

"Come on, Maxie," Harper chortles, "Speak to me."

"Hi, Harper," I inaudibly greet.

"What's that, Maxie?" Harper cups his hand behind his ear and inches closer to me, "Say it a little louder for me."

"Hi, Harper," I greet louder this time.

"That's more like it," Harper chirps, roughing up my hair. I tense up in surprise. Harper has never touched my hair before. 

***

Harper smiles in joy as he ruffles Moxwell's hair. The teen's head was full of thick, coarse yet soft, black curls that formed into a medium afro. Harper couldn't resist. He took pleasure in pulling at a curl and watching it bounce back into place as if it were untouched. The weirdo's hair always intrigued Harper. It was honestly his only nice attribute. 

"Do you use roller sets in your hair every night or something?" Harper pulls at another curl, watching it bounce back into place.

"No."

"I don't believe you," Harper starts swirling another curl with his finger. "What do you do to get it like this?"

"I just wash my hair and moisturize it," Moxwell quietly answers. "That's it." Moxwell noticeably started to grow more uncomfortable.

Harper became aware of the younger teen twiddling his fingers nervously and keeping his eyes downcast. Like the jackass Harper knows he is, he honestly takes joy in knowing how much power he has over Moxwell. He's practically trembling and all Harper is doing is just touching his hair. Harper wraps his arm around the younger teen's shoulder in a swift motion, which made Moxwell wince. Harper chuckles, "No need to be afraid now. Just wait until tryouts for the musical. This, right here, is nothing compared to what I have planned for you."

"Harper, please," Moxwell panics, "Please."

"Please, what?"

"Let go of me, please."

Harper smirks, not letting go. He becomes aware of the freak's hand shaking. This is a first. Moxwell always endures Harper's pestilence with compliance. He has never asked him to stop.

***

Panic arose within me as I attempted to free myself from his hold, but it was useless. We're in front of others. I'll humiliate myself.

Harper plays with my curls some more, which only worsened the uneasiness building inside of me. Him touching my hair made me feel like a specimen that's being picked at. It makes me feel microscopic and nonhuman. As I glance Harper's way, an image of one of my foster brothers eyeing me maliciously flashes in my thoughts. Images of him pulling my hair when no one was around scatter across my mind.

I close my eyes as my breathing quickens. Feeling anxious tears build up in my eyes, I rip away from Harper's grasp in an adrenalized frenzy. "I said let go of me! Don't touch me!" I say angrily, loud enough for him to hear, breaking eye contact immediately.

Harper eyes me in surprise.

I quickly grab my items and move to another spot, far away enough from him, attempting to ground myself. Distracted by my flooding thoughts of horrid memories that I try to make disappear, I quickly make my way to an exit and go to the restroom. As soon as I hit the hallways, the excited tears roll down my cheeks. I rush to the restroom, hoping no one else would be there.