The Perfect Kid

Part 5

Remember at the beginning when I said this was a graphic and mature story? Last chance to turn back.

When I was younger, people told me that I should take some time to cool off after an argument, to work on calming down. It was always a load of crap. No matter how much time I took away from something, I would stay just as furious. So it didn’t come as a surprise that I stayed pissed at my mother all throughout the following day.

I paced outside Zeke’s office that afternoon, waiting for him to be ready. Back and forth, back and forth, focusing on the carpet pattern. Red, yellow, blue, yellow, green. Red, yellow, blue, yellow, green.

“Declan?” I turned and stalked into his office, calmed slightly by the peppermint aroma surrounding me. Zeke looked at me questioningly.

“So are we going to start or what?” I spat.

“Well, someone’s a little on edge,” he said, chuckling.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” I snarled. Zeke sobered up.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have laughed. What’s bothering you, anyway?”

“I don’t wanna get into it.” He raised one eyebrow. Despite myself,I flung onto the giant couch and started in.

“My mom wants me to break up with Sandra because she isn’t Christian or “proper” enough. Jesus. And it’s like, how did she even notice, hauled up in her office all the time? It’s MY life, not HERS. Butt the hell out.” I paused, wondering if Zeke would scold me for cursing. He just sank down next to me.

“That must have been hard for you to hear. What did you do?”

“I broke her vase and left,” I chuckled at my own childishness. “I stayed at Seth’s last night.”

“You must care about this Sandra girl quite a bit.” I smiled.

“I really do.” Zeke put his hand on my knee.

“Tell me more about her.” What a weird thing to ask. Whatever.

“Um, she’s really pretty. She plays basketball. She likes to go to Pluto, I’m going to get her a planet keychain for her birthday.”

“That sounds really nice.”

“Erm, sure I guess.”

“Declan, I know a bit about caring for people too,” his eyes focused in on me. “In fact, I care quite a lot about you.”

“T-thanks, I guess,” I started squirming a little on the couch. When were we gonna start practicing exactly?

“But I’m afraid that a boy of your age doesn’t know how to take care of someone, physically.” he starting sliding his hand farther up my leg.

I froze. He can’t mean... Jesus, no. He can’t mean...that. Then why is his hand still going up?

“I could show you, you know.” he said suggestively. I tried to find my voice.

“No, I...no,” I squeaked.

“Shh, just let it happen.” His hand eventually found it’s destination and he started undoing my belt. This isn’t happening this isn’t happening this isn’t happening. Run. Kick him in the balls and run. I tried to do just that, but my body wouldn’t respond. Somehow, Zeke had  already gotten both his and my pants down. I gave one last shot at speaking.

“Please, just stop. Let me go. This never happened.” I pleaded.

“Shut up and turn over.” his voice came out low and gruff this time, not like his usual smooth drawl. When I continued to sit there, shocked, he shoved me over himself.

This isn’t happening this isn’t happening this isn’t happening. Oh god, it was. I focused on keeping my mind numb to what was going on. Again, I chose floor patterns. Red, yellow, blue, yellow, green. Red, yellow, blue, yellow, green. Red yellow, blue, yellow, green. Red, yellow, blue, yellow, green.Red, yellow, blue, yellow, green. Red, yellow, blue, yellow, green. Red yellow, blue, yellow, green. Red, yellow, blue, yellow, green. Red, yellow, blue, yellow, green. Red, yellow, blue, yellow, green. Red yellow, blue, yellow, green. Red, yellow, blue, yellow, green.

I don’t know how long that went on, but I was eventually aware of it stopping.

“Clean yourself up,” Zeke growled. I did as he said. He stalked over to his desk, pulling out a set of keys. He unlocked the bottom drawer and revealed a pistol. He gazed at it, lost for a minute.

“This didn’t happen, understand me, Declan? Even if you do tell someone, nobody will believe you. You will go home, act like everything is okay, and continue to come to rehearsal and our private lessons. Or else.” He glared at me, daring me to ask what would happen if I didn't. I kept quiet. “You may leave.”

I bolted, not stopping to gather my things from outside. I sprinted out onto the street and down the sidewalk. I paused to violently puke in some shrubbery, and continued on. I ached all over, and I just wanted to sleep, but I kept going. I vowed to run until I no longer smelled of peppermint.

A small part of me was afraid that that would take a lifetime.