Hunger Point | Phan

Chapter Two: Kids just like you.

[ Phil ]

"Phil, wake up!" Whined Keaton, my five-year-old younger brother, head-butting my ass. "Or what?" I grumbled, unable to hide my grin. Keaton was an ass, but the only good thing in my life. He was much too young to realize how screwed up both of our parents are and my dad never touches him. I hope he ends up alright. "I'm gonna beat you up." He warned, his voice not intimidating in the least. I laughed, sitting up, and ruffled up his blond hair. The only resemblance we have to each other is our ocean-bled eyes. "Beat me up then."

Keaton reached for my wrist, and I instantly gasped, for the skin he grasped was tender and sore. "I knew I could hurt you!" He cheered, grinning. The little masochist. "You sure did," I said, my voice weak. "Now go to your own room so we can both get ready for school." Keaton obliged accordingly and I smiled. Like I said: total turd but he was my wonder wall. I hoped my mother and father realized they absolutely could not do to him what they did to me. I couldn't bear the thought of Keaton being as fucked up as I was. I'd make sure that never happened.

* * *

"If you win, I'll do your math homework for a month," best friend number one said, causing me to roll my eyes and continue raking my mashed potatoes with my fork. Why not play with my food? It's not like I'd eat it.

My friends always argued; it was a lunchtime prime ritual. "But I'm good at math and you aren't..." best friend number two noted, shaking his head, making his hair fall askew. "Peej, Chris, shut up, would you?" I snapped, jabbing my fork at them. I'd been cranky all day, the subject of my little brother wearing heavily on my mind. I didn't want anything to happen to him. My father had only hit him once, when Keaton had commented that he disliked the shirt our dad was forcing him to wear, and my father wound up his wrist, smacking Keaton square in the face. My mom took care of it, though. Or at least I hoped she did...she has so far.

"What's up your ass, Lester?" PJ questioned. I shrugged, pulling my lower lip into my mouth. "Your head, probably." I replied, teasing. I'd rather not my friends think I was mighty po-faced about something, even if I was. I didn't want them worrying, as they often did too much. "Yeah, probably." Chris said, resulting in Peej shoving him lightly. I laughed weakly, hoping it sounded convincing. I wasn't in the mood for faking but I wasn't in the mood for explaining, either. They'd just have to leave what's wrong with Phil up to their imagination.

{ Dan }

"You don't go to lesson, you don't go to anything. You practically show up and sit in the boy's loo all day." Ms. Murray, my first lesson teacher, complained. "I'm this close," she gestured with her fingers. "To dragging you to Mrs. Mitchell." Mrs. Mitchell was our Headteacher. I struggled not to roll my eyes. Mrs. Mitchell didn't scare me. Neither did Ms. Murray, to her surprise and dismay. Basically, the educators here are all blab and no bite. "I know about you...I've seen the likes of you, Daniel Howell," she said, and I nodded. "Sure, you have. You see Dans every day, I bet."

"Please, Daniel, don't. I'm trying to help you and offer you an opportunity that may help you immensely. You're screwing up your school career and this may redeem you."

"Sure. Pin the tail on the donkey," I said, drumming my fingers on my school desk. Ms. Murray had arranged a witch hunt to find me and she finally did, in the back-corner of the library, my favorite location. But now I'll have to relocate...

"If you attend this support group," she said, placing an advert on the wood surface of my desk. "I'll stop counting you absent for my lesson. This could be a filler." I shrugged. Sure, why not? How bad could it be? "Okay." I said, fingering the rough edge of the paper. It's a way to get me out of the house. "They meet on Wednesdays and Thursdays. You'll be there tomorrow." She said with a flick of her wrist, dismissing me. Whatever.

My eyes scanned the sheet as I stood to leave: "Group for troubled teens! Meet kids just like you!" Oh, joy. Ms. Murray has given me something new to hate. Exciting. My shoulder roughly hit someone else's and I jumped back, startled. My dull brown eyes met bright, blue ones. They were the most breathtaking eyes I'd ever seen. "S-sorry." I stuttered, at the same time he breathed out an almost inaudible, "I'm sorry.". I looked down, a light blush on my cheeks, as I shuffled around him. This is why I don't go to class and risk embarrassment throughout the halls. Something always happens! "Philip Lester." I heard as I separated myself from the classroom as quick as possible. "I'd like to recommend this support group."

Hey, at least I wasn't the only sucker she was pushing this shit on. Lucky me. No... lucky us. I'd see this Philip guy I revealed my awkwardness to in support group. Yay.