The Kids Aren't Alright ✓ | Peterick TeacherxStudent

6: The Crooked Smiles Fade

"Bye," I whispered, but he was already gone.

And the sadness was beginning to creep back in again.

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I gripped the straps of my backpack tighter, bowing my head down lower as I quickened my pace, trying to get to my next class as soon as possible. English.

We had five minutes between classes to get to our next one, and while most students took their time, I nearly sprinted through the halls. It wasn't a safe place to be. In the halls, anyone could yell things at me, point at me and laugh with their friends, and even grab me and beat me to a pulp. And no one would stop them.

But if I were inside a classroom with a teacher, all of that was a lot less likely. Especially in Pete's class, where he didn't tolerate bullying of any kind. I felt safe in his room, in his arms. He made me feel protected from everyone, including myself.

I was almost the class. I was just past the bathrooms, I just had to turn the corner and I would be safe for at least the next hour. I suddenly was jerked backward as the result of someone grabbing the handle of my backpack. They spun me around, slamming me into the locker.

"Hey, fagtrick! Long time, no see!" Jake said. My head was pounding, throbbing as a result of being thrown into the locker so hard. I slumped to the ground, not hearing what he was yelling at me. Everything seemed to be underwater. He laughed, pointing to his friend before each one of them grabbed me by the ankles and dragged me into the bathroom.

"I was talking to you, say something!" He yelled, letting go of my ankle before proceeding to kick me in the ribs. "Cat got your tongue, homo?"

They continued to laugh, kicking me wherever they could, screaming at me while laughing, as if beating up the gay kid was causing them to have the time of their lives.

You belong in hell.

You're pathetic. A fag. A loser. No one would love you.

Even a prostitute would deny you, that's how gross you are.

A month ago, if they said these things to me, they would mean nothing. Absolutely nothing at all. I was so used to hearing them every day that I had grown immune to their insults. I was just numb. I would've just silently accepted their beating, lying motionless, emotionless, on the bathroom floor. But so much has changed in a month.

Pete was trying to help me. He was getting me to not think so negatively of myself. He was trying to show me that the world wasn't a bad place, there was just a handful of bad people. Don't get me wrong, I was still wallowing around in a pool of self-pity at all times, but I had at least begun to accept that fact that being gay was okay and that I wasn't a pathetic, worthless piece of shit.

But apparently, I was wrong.

I was no longer numb to the things that they were saying. The bullying had gone down, largely due to the fact that I was eating lunch in Pete's classroom. But I wasn't used to hearing these things said to me, I was only used to them coming from my own head, not out of someone else's mouth.

And the latter hurt so much more.

Though I didn't make a noise, the tears began to fall down my face as they continued to laugh and yell at me and their kicks grew stronger. I couldn't allow myself to cry anymore in front of them, or else things would just end up worse. But I couldn't hold it in anymore. I let out a sob, which was masked by the sound of the bell ringing. The two ran out of the bathroom, leaving me laying empty and broken on the bathroom floor.

I grabbed my sides, hunching over as I let out a string of sobs, trying to compose myself. I tried pulling myself back together, but I couldn't. I tried, but it just wasn't working.