Painting The BadBoy ✔

30 | The Gender Gap

I rubbed my eyes and groaned. I stopped shifting and got up all together. Rosie and Claire were both asleep, and Claire was snoring not so quietly.

The rain drummed on the window same as before, only this time, there wasn't so much thunder.

Suddenly, it seemed like a bad idea to have drank all that water a few hours ago.

I got out of bed and stretched my arms. I really needed to go to the washroom.

I stepped out of the room quietly, closing the door behind me.

I almost jumped when I saw a figure sitting on the ground, their back against the wall.

"Eli?" I called, walking up to him.

"Cia." He said, wiping his eyes frantically. His voice was rough; like he had been crying.

"What's wrong?" I instantly kneeled down and sat besides him, all traces of fatigue gone from my body.

He shook his head. "It's Jess."

"What about her?" I grabbed his hand. It was cold, not that I cared.

He took a deep breath. "I feel so bad."

"What happened to her, Eli?"

He looked at me, and his eyes glazed over. "You can' tell anyone. Not even Claire."

"Of course." I would never. Like he even needed to ask that.

"Remember when Jess broke her wrist? And I told you she slipped on the porch?"

I nodded. "What about it?"

He squeezed my hand in a death-grip. "She slipped because of me." His eyes drew shut, and a few tears leaked out.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to." I rubbed his arm slowly.

"No." he shook his head. "I have to. This thing's been eating me up."

My hand now rested on his arm. I waited for him to continue.

"My parents couldn't take me dating a guy." He said, his voice low. "The day you were in the graveyard, we had a big fight, my parents and I."

One of the saddest things, I had come to realize, was just that. Our generation accepted things like homosexuals and bisexuals, and was less tolerant to things like racism. Maybe it was because of social media, or our experience with diversity in places like schools and hangouts.

But the older generations didn't. That's why my mom didn't like Margaret, or why Eli's parents didn't accept him.

And I wasn't trying to stereotype anything. I wasn't. But that's just how things were right now. My parents, Eli's parents, and everybody else's had probably gone to the same school, grown up together. And they never really tried to see our side of things either.

He paused for a minute. "Jess took my side, defended me. She was being my shield, protecting me after my parents threatened to throw me out."

He let go of my hand, and wrapped it around his knees instead. "They said some things to her. And you know how Jess is. She got upset and ran out."

"But Eli," I said softly. "She's okay now. She's doing just fine. And she knows it wasn't your fault."

When he didn't say anything, I asked him why he was sitting here and thinking about all this at this time and place.

"My parents had called a few minutes ago." He sighed. "They yelled, threatened and blackmailed." He laughed humorlessly. "Jess had heard, and called me back later."