"Dude, she probably has everything. My parents said they used to be friends with her before she went to shit and that was like ten years ago. Ten years of stripping and prostituting, she has to have everything out there."
"Don't forget about that time when -"
"Can you just shut up!?" I yelled, turning around and glaring at them. "Every fucking day I have to listen to you guys belittle me and my mom! I'm -"
"Mr. Urie, hallway. Now." I laughed mockingly and grabbed my things and left the room. Isn't it fucked up that it's always the victim who gets called out? Never the bully. I stood against the wall and closed my eyes, trying to keep the tears from coming. "What's going on with you?" Mr. Weekes asked. Like he doesn't already know.
"Nothing. Nothing at all." I said quietly.
"Brendon, every day you let those kids say things to you and you never do anything about it. You sit there calmly and you do your best to ignore them."
"Is that why you made me come out here? For not speaking up for myself?" I furrowed my eyebrows and looked up at him.
"No," he sighed. "that's what they want. They want you to say something to them because when you react, they know it's getting to you."
"It does get to me. I'm embarrassed and ashamed of my mom. Everyone in the whole school knows who she is and what she does and I'm the one who has to deal with it." The tears fell down my cheeks carelessly. "It doesn't matter whether I say something to them or not, they're always going to say shit to me and beat me up. All because my mom likes to dance naked with a pole and do drugs and have sex for money."
Mr. Weekes was quiet for a couple of minutes. He knows my mom. Everyone knows my mom. She's the biggest whore in town.
"Is your father around?" He asked suddenly.
I laughed.
"Are you kidding me? I haven't seen him since I was six. He divorced my mom and left the state with his new girlfriend." Mr. Weekes looked like he was sorry. He looked at me as if he wanted to try to help.
"And you've got no other family members around that you could stay with? Just for a while?"
"I don't even know my family." I mumbled. "I couldn't tell you if my grandparents are alive or not. Or how many aunts, uncles or cousins I have."
"Well, I can't let this keep going on Brendon."
"What do you mean?"
"With your mom. You're what, sixteen? I'm required to report this to the school board and they're required to contact child protective services. You're still considered a child and what she's doing is -"
"I am not a child." I told him firmly. "I have a job. I take care of myself and my mother when I need to. And I come to school every damn day, no matter how tired I am. No matter if I stayed up all night waiting for her to get home. I still bring my ass here everyday. I'm perfectly fine and you don't need to get yourself involved with it. You're just a teacher. Your job is to teach, not act like you care about your students and what they go through." I turned my back on him and waked away.
If he reports this, then my mom will go to jail and I'll end up in foster care. I can't go to foster care. I'll just get made fun of even more. And my mom could die in jail.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Spencer.
"I really need you right now Spence..."
The bell rang and it was finally time for lunch.
-
"That's crazy, man." Spencer said over the phone. "I wish I could bring you here or something. You and your mom. Maybe get her some help, you know?"
