Thicker Than Paper

Bandage

Sticky and smooth. Cloth and cotton. Cover my hands like a glove. Hold me back from full movement. No time, no way to set a paper crane on its way. I guess it will have to continue to reside in my pocket. Crumpled and torn. Like a heart.
~~~

Ace shoved me into my truck before I could do more than a black eye or split lip. Thank god Carper's a shitty throw, my face left unscathed. Mom wouldn't notice more than the knuckles. But that's an easy fix too. An easy lie. I don't remember driving home, I mean, Ace driving me home. Dad's working nights and Mom's well into sleep by the time pull up in front of the brick house. But I remember the sting. And the blood on my knuckles. I liked it. I want to feel it again.

"Listen, Phoenix, I totally get why you punched Carper back there," I want to punch Ace now, too. He has no fucking idea. I want to feel the sting again, "But, I think you should play it safe Monday and not come to school. Okay, Bud?"

Maybe Ace is just a drunk as me. Or maybe more. But the way he tells me to stay home to avoid conflict with Carper, makes me feel like a little kid who broke a vase at grandmothers house. I nod, pushing open the passenger side door.

"Oh, and P?" I'm already halfway out, so I only swivel my head to look at him," I'm gonna wait in the truck till T.J. comes. I rode there with him." I'm glad he thought this through because I sure as hell would have just left him on the street to walk home. I turn back around, nodding my head a little I think.

 Everything feels weak. And dizzy. I know it's not the alcohol, I'm no lightweight. I rub my face, stumbling up the driveway. Mom never locks the door anymore when she knows I'm out, so I don't go back to the truck to get my keys. Despite being drunk and bloody, I know moms a light sleeper. I try to tiptoe myself downstairs to my room. I rip off my shirt, wiping it on my bloody knuckles. I chuck it to the side of my bed, and nearly faint at the sight of the moon through my window. I've never believed the man on the moon, but if I did, he sure as hell would be disappointed, looking down at me.

"What are you doing to yourself, boy?" He would ask. He kind of sounds like my dad. Angry. Disappointed

I shrug, not blinking at the moon, "I don't know anymore."

"Well, figure it out." 

"I'll try." When I blink, he's gone.

~~~

It feels like the hangover never left. And the consequences of my actions sure as hell didn't disappear either like I hoped they would. Careful not to touch the horn, I lay my head on the steering wheel, fingers pushing on my temple. Pushing to get rid of a headache. The car's already pretty damn hot without the air conditioning on. I know I got up late, after a long personal fight with my self-conscious about whether or not to even finish high school. After throwing on some jeans and sweatshirt from the dryer, I only had 10 minutes till school started. And a 10-minute drive there. I've already heard the final bell, I just need to get up and to the doors before the tardy bell. 

The heat engulfing me feels like a hug. One that feels comforting, but eventually, you realize they only hold you in their arms to suffocate you. I almost want to let them suffocate me. I stare at my knuckles, positive there's a mark on my forehead from the wheel. Mostly just bruised and scabbing, my parents know it as an injury from baseball. A bad slide left my hand dragged on the ground as a ragdoll. Of course, all three schools in the district and some outside know what really happened. Most were shocked, I hope. Phoenix Weather doesn't get shit from anyone. Phoenix doesn't give shit to anyone. Until now.

I slide out of the truck, rubbing my forehead to get rid of the red mark. I smile, taking the sun's beating rays on my neck like a pat on the back. Good job, son, you've proved yourself. Too bad the man on the moon wasn't here to see this. I pull the door with a good tug and curse my self when it doesn't open. I had heard the tardy bell, not the final bell. I rub my head, contemplating if I should go to the front for them to let me in, or ditch the damned day and go home. Go home and try to catch up on sleep.

"Here," The sound surprises me and I nearly jump. A junior, um..um...fuck, what was his name? He holds the door open, and I catch it to relieve him of his post.

"Thanks, man," He nods as I slip through the door. The hallways are empty, I feel like my words are bouncing off all the walls. Was that the right thing to say?

"'Course. If your parents are anything like mine, you'd be fucked if they found out you had to go through the front," The school has pretty strict tardy rules that barely anyone follows. But, since all doors leading outside are automatic, five minutes after the final bell, when the tardy bell rings, all doors but the front automatically lock. If you come late and have to go through the front, they call your guardians. 

I let out a gingerly laugh, "No kidding. Thanks, catch you around man." I doubt I would ever see that boy again. His brown hair bounces when her nods, and his eye twinkle when he waves goodbye before turning the opposite way down the hall. 

I think about where he's going. Why he opened the door for me. I certainly haven't done anything for him, I can't even remember his name and he's in my grade! But most of all, as I look down the way he went, is how different my life would be if I had befriended him before high school. Before all this shit. 

"Phoenix?" I swirl around, fast, surprised. Ace's eyebrows are knitted together in confusion, "I thought I told you to stay home today?"

"Yeah," I run a hand through my greasy hair. I look down the hallway the boy went down, wanting to go that way too. But Ace, "yeah. I know, I know. I just... Mom wasn't going to let me stay home if I wasn't sick, ya know?" I give him a lopsided grin, and he gives me one back.

"Phoenix, my man, you are a strange one, you know? You're going to get your ass kicked, and you fucking show up to school in slides!" Ace laughs, slapping my back.

I glance down at my slides, laughing too because I know its all too true. I could, will most likely, get my ass kicked and I didn't even put real shoes on. Did the boy who let me in wonder about that too? I wonder if he wants to kick my ass also. I would.