Perfectly Faulted

Chapter 3

I hope that you are enjoying the story so far. On the right is a picture of Andrea and Boris...

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"Morning Skye," Evan says, stifling a yawn. "God, I am so tired. Hey, guess what?! My brother is coming back in a month!" she cries excitedly. 

"Really? That's awesome!" Evan's older brother, Charlie, has been away for two years now. He is in the army, and fights in Afghanistan. Evan looks up to him, because although she never wants to join the army, she was inspired by his strength and bravery. That's why she's not afraid to stand up to the bullies at school and help me, although she gets bullied a lot as well. This news is wonderful, because after her parents' divorce, she never gets to see her father anymore, and she misses her brother badly. 

At school, we are greeted in the familiar fashion by Boris, a very annoying boy who likes to pretend he's superior, and his cronies. He steps in front of us as we try to enter through the front doors. "Good morning uglies! Gonna go meet up with your cute little friends? Oh wait, I forgot! You don't have any..." He pinches my cheek, hard, grinning idiotically, as his companions stand to the side, snickering stupidly. 

"Let go of me," I say, pushing him away. I am in no mood to see him. "Come on, Evan, let's go to class. We're gonna be late." I pull her to the side and we walk together up the three flights of stairs to our English classroom. During an hour of lecturing, I doodle in the corner of my notebook, creating a design of spirals and zigzags that ends up looking quite nice, while somehow still managing to take notes at the same time. I watch, amused, as Evan, in her assigned seat in the front row, nearly falls asleep right in front of the teacher, who seems to be talking to the wall behind us. As usual, nobody is really listening to him, but he seems to be lost in his own little world of grammar and literature.

After the class is over, I get up quickly and shove my binder into my bag. I sling it over my shoulder, but as I back up to push in my chair, I bump into a boy who was passing behind me and make him drop his open pencilcase, strewing pens underneath the desks.

"I'm so sorry," I say quietly. "I didn't mean to bump into you." I look away, waiting for a cutting remark like "Can't you watch where you're going, stupid emo?! Pick up my pens, you dropped them!" I bend down and start picking them up from the cool tiles, ready for a mean comment, but it never comes. Instead, a hand places itself on my shoulder and a low voice says:

"Hey. Its okay. I know its not your fault, I shouldn't have been walking around with an open pencilcase. Here, let me help you." He kneels down and takes some of the pens, putting them back in their place. He must be new, I think to myself. No other guy would help me like this. As we both stand up at the same time, I use the moment to look at his face and remember it. He has green eyes, and brown hair with bangs that sweep across his forehead, nearly masking his left eye. He is a bit taller than I am, but slightly shorter than most of the boys I know. He smiles at me, but it is just a small change in his face, as if he is not used to smiling very much. His eyes don't twinkle when his lips spread wider, sort of like he does not really know how to feel happy. I know how that feels, but Evan was always there to help me. Does he have anyone? I wonder. I notice a large bruise on his arm, and wonder how it got there. Did he fall? His elbow is scraped as well. I decide not to ask him about this, and I look down at his shirt, which has a picture of a marching skeleton on it, with a very familiar band name written above. The one band with songs whose lyrics stood out among the others and spoke out to me.

"I love that band!" I exclaim. 

"Really?" he answers. "So do I! I got the shirt at one of their concerts. Their songs are really good." The bell cuts him off, ringing loudly and obnoxiously. "Uh, I have to go now. I'll see you around." 

"Okay. Bye," I reply, waving. Strange. I had never spoken to a boy at school like that before. Usually, they looked down at me and called me names, making fun of my looks. But this one is different. Oh well. He will probably just get absorbed into the crowds and end up like the others, making fun of me once he knows who I am and my reputation of being the emo kid that everyone prefers to either torment or stay away from. Although it seems like something about him isn't the same as the rest of them. He seems shy, more reserved...and kind. That's definitely a first.

I watch as he walks out the door, nearly tripping over untied shoelaces. Evan comes over and walks next to me out of the classroom. "Isn't that the kid that Boris and his gang were attacking out in the parking lot yesterday? I hate them so much. And he seems really nice, too."

"They were attacking him? What for?"

"I have no idea. They were insulting him, they called him names, they punched him... They've been doing this since September. Its been a month since they started. And apparently, they found him in a bathroom stall, writing in a journal or something, and they started plunging his head into the toilet water. They must have read it, and found out what he thought of them."

"That's terrible! It's worse than what they do to me..." This boy, to whom I forgot to ask his name, has been being attacked since the beginning of the year. I was wrong about him. He will never be a Monster like Boris and the rest of them. He will be like Evan and I: alone, left out, and bullied.