Boys Will Be Boys

Chapter Seven

Gabe rambles on about something or other in the car, but his words go in one ear and out the other. My eyes are fixed on the road, but my mind certainly isn’t. I can’t tell you where my mind is right now.

I think I’m purposefully trying to avoid thinking at all, just so I don’t have to think about what I know I would be thinking about.

Ow, that hurts my brain.

We arrive at school, and immediately, huge, red, flashing signs are going off in my head, screaming ‘ALERT, ALERT: DO NOT ENTER SCHOOL. HIGHLY HAZARDOUS TO MENTAL HEALTH’.

But since when do I listen to myself? I march into school with my head held high, though my entire body feels like it’s shaking.

I don’t know why I’m panicking so much; I can just pretend everything’s fine. No one has to know, right? Just my little secret.

Oh my God, that makes it sound so wrong. I groan, mentally. I cannot make it through this day. First period hasn’t even started and I’m already having a mental breakdown.

I stand in front of my locker, entering the combination as quickly as I can.

“Hey.”

I nearly jump a foot in the air. Alana looks at me with a questioning glance.

“What’s up with you today?” she asks, amusedly.

I shake my head violently. “Nothing! I’m fine!”

I mentally facepalm. Luke, you are a terrible liar.

Alana raises her eyebrows, but turns towards her own locker. “Mmm-hmm.” She hums, sarcastically.

I grab my books and slam my locker shut before scurrying away like a mouse. Getmeoutofhereplease.

I pray to no one in particular, but when I open my eyes, I find myself in my seat next to Nate in first period History, so that just proves that there is no God in heaven and I am doomed to remain here for the rest of the day, completely ready to escape my skin.

A while ago, right before Jess and Chase Jackson broke up, Chase made the mistake of telling Tyler Kent one of Jess’ embarrassing sex habits.

To be perfectly honest, I don’t even remember what it was. That’s not relevant. The rumor spread like wildfire, thanks to some help from Josie Guthrie, and within a few days, it was all over school. Everyone and their mothers knew about it.

At lunch, Jess dropped her head on the table and declared loudly, “I want to die.” At the time, I laughed and ruffled up her hair and treated it all as one big joke.

Now, I completely understand what she meant. As I drop my head on the desk, the same exact thought ripples through my mind. I want to die.

I desperately wish Mrs. Lawrence was interesting.

For the first time ever, I stare at the PowerPoint presentation in the front of class, forcefully keeping my eyes open as I try incredibly hard to focus.

I need to focus; I need to distract my brain from thinking about Emery.

Oh, shit.

Emery.

As the classes go by, my stomach sinks lower and lower and when the bell signaling the end of third period, that humiliating feeling of “I want to die” is back in my mind.

I reluctantly trudge my way to Spanish class, dread filling me more and more with every step I take.

When I enter the classroom, I spot him, sitting at his desk, completely focused on something in his notebook.