The Closet-a Ralbert Story

Chapter 6

Today felt like a good day. It honestly did.

Race walked through the double doors, escaping the mid-September air, finding absolutely nothing wrong with the world. His car was working, he was wearing his favorite jeans, and he was going to see the interesting ginger boy.

Unfortunately, a morning is always followed by a bad afternoon, which is why the Delancey Brothers are currently beating him senseless in the bathroom.

The two of them were the second worst part about the school, but they were making a clear aim for first. What's it take to have a good day?

"Got anything else that mouth wants to say?" Race looked at Oscar, his eye pounding as he felt a bruise form. "I know it's hard to close it."

"Like something else", Morris added, snickering. Race's brows furrowed, anger boiling inside of him.

Did he just- Spit flew out of his mouth and onto Morris's face, the bully closing his eyes at the contact. "Eat shit!"

Oscar became angrier as he grabbed Race's shirt, venom on his tongue. "You bitch!"

The bell rang, all three boys looking at the door in worry. Oscar grunted in disappointment, dropping Race's shirt.

"We'll see you at lunch", Oscar growled, leaving the bathroom. Morris stared at him, mouthing something Race ought to punch him for.

The blonde stood up, humming in pain. He looked himself in the mirror, then at the toilet they flushed his head in. That's when he realized he had lunch this period, along with Oscar and Morris.

Groaning, both from pain and frustration, he grabbed a paper towel and turned on the faucet, wincing at the cold water.

Questa è una stronzata, he thought, placing the cold rag on the cuts and bruises he attained. I was having such a good day.

He sniffed looking at his face again. Migliore, but I still look like I went through Hell, came back, then jumped off a cliff.

He looked at the door, taking a deep breath. Alright. Open, run, hide. Simple.

Holding his breath, he opened the door quickly, rushing out. He let out a breath as he heard pounding feet behind him and cursed under his breath.

Sometimes, Race was glad he was an over thinker.

He let his feet guide him to safety, narrowly missing a hallway. There were classrooms throughout the hall, all of the doors having windows. But one door, one door he had to reach.

He opened it and rushed in, closing it just before Oscar and Morris ran down the hall, yelling, "Where is he?!"

Race let out short breaths, trying to calm his heart. He placed a hand on his heart and his head on the door. "Shit."

"Um, hi."

"Fuck!" Race jumped as he heard the voice, turning around and finding a boy behind him. "Jesus."

"Not exactly", the guys says, standing up and turning on the light. Race blushed as he realized they were really close. "I'd consider myself pretty okay, though."

"Uh", Race stutters, clearing his throat and stepping back. "Hey. I'm Race."

He realized this was the redhead he kept seeing, and memories of a few days ago popped into his head. That made this meeting even more intense.

"Albert", he says, now sitting on floor. Race followed him, sitting in front of him. "I'm assuming you didn't know that."

"I-I didn't."

"Not surprised."

Race looked around, finding he was in the janitors closet. "Why are you in here?"

"I'm afraid of society", Albert answers, biting into his sandwich. "You?"

"Bullies", Race swallows, finding his heart had slowed. Albert nodded, shrugging as he swallowed.

"There are perks to being unknown."

Race furrowed his brows. This guy says weird stuff. "Okay."

Albert continued eating his sandwich, looking around. "Why were they bullying you?"

"The Delanceys are just general assholes", Race answers, chuckling. Albert nods, agreeing. "I also may have spit in Morris's face."

Albert laughed, shaking his head. "You've got balls."

"I'd hope so", Race muttered, shaking his head. "They're fucking assholes, but I couldn't stand myself if I let them beat me up."

Albert hummed, looking at his watch. "Yeah. I get that."

The two of them sat in silence, Race looking around the room boredly. He'd never been in here before, never even thought about it. Then again, who thinks about running away from their bullies and hiding in a janitors closet?

"Uh, custodians closet", Albert corrected, having finished his sandwich. He avoided eye contact and focused on tracing the lines of his hands. "Mr. Jenkins doesn't- he doesn't appreciate people calling it a janitors closet."

Race furrowed his brows. "Who?"

"Mr. Jenkins. The custodian."

The old guy that helps clean the cafeteria during sixth period. "What's the difference?"

"Custodians work around the clock while janitors usually work during certain hours", Albert explained, looking Race in the eyes. "It helps if you think about them like ants."

Race blinked at him. "Ants?"

"Yeah, like Pharaoh and Ghost ants. They'll both eat basically anything and have similar nesting habits, but their colors make them different because Pharaoh ants have a tan color or are translucent while Ghost ants have black bodies and a red head."

Race nodded, looking at the door. "Right. You...know a lot about ants."

"I only know about Pharaoh ants, really", Albert muttered, now embarrassed because he was rambling. "Um...I had to draw one for an art project."

"Cool", Race nodded, smiling. He looked up as the bell rang, signifying the end of lunch. "Cool."

"I wonder where Mr. Jenkins is", Albert muttered, standing up and dusting himself off. "He came, gave me a sandwich, then left! Kind of rude if you ask me..."

"Yeah", Race chuckled, looking Albert up and down. "Totally."

"I better get to class", Albert says, throwing his backpack on his shoulder. He was ready to walk out, having opened the door and one foot out into the hallway. He turned around, offering a very small smile. "Stay away from the Delancey Dumbasses, okay?"

Race laughed at his joke, finding himself rubbing his arm nervously. "Yeah, yeah! Mm-hmm, totally."

Albert raised his eyebrows, giving a thin smile. He walked out, leaving Race standing there, fanning a hand in his face. Why's is it so hot in here?

He touched his cheek, feeling the heat radiating off of it. My face is warm...

I don't feel sick. Well, I'm not sick.

I'd know if I were sick. Plus, this only started when Albert-

Race paused, his face heating up even more when he looked at the door. "Albert."

Oh, God, no.