He Left Me Alone

37

He read for a while. His face turned from anger into a deep sadness.

“Tommy, I’m sorry,” through his voice I knew he meant it.

“Logan, it’s not a big deal, really. Can we eat lunch now?”

“Let’s go.”

He took my hand. The crooked warm smile that was in his face now gone, replaced with anger, or sadness, I didn’t know. I couldn’t tell because it was almost the same to me.

We went past the cafetaria, straight outside to the football field. He took me to the benches and sat down. I did, too.

“What are we doing here?”          

“Skipping classes.”

“Logan, it’s not a big deal, okay? I—I’m”

“Not a big deal? Someone called you,” he took out the paper. “A filthy cock-sucker, ass-eater faggot and it’s not a big deal?”

I didn’t answer.

“It is a huge deal, Tommy.”

I didn’t answer again. And we just sat there in silence.