Innocent

Four

TW: very brief mention of suicide

I wake the next morning to a school wide email regarding the death, the suicide, of Brogan Bailey. She was found late last night in her bedroom by her parents. She left a note. At school I hear whispers that she couldn't handle the guilt of tormenting me and other students over the years and that she had struggled in silence for a long time. Some kids say she overdosed in the bathtub and others say she was found laying in bed with her wrists slit.

As I'm standing in front of my locker staring at another news article on my phone, Bryce throws me against the wall. Tears brim his eyes as he snatches my phone out of my hand and smashes it on the tile floor.

"You did this!" he screams and picks me back up by my collar, "If you hadn't made such a scene yesterday she wouldn't have felt so bad about it. It was just a joke, you didn't have to take it so seriously!"

I stand there, in his grip, with my mouth gaping. Am I surprised he's blaming me or am I surprised I didn't think to blame myself first? Brogan and Bryce had been dating since middle school. Wreaking havoc in their wake all along.

"Bryce, I'm sorry, I can't imagine what you're going through. I'm sorry." I stutter out a lame apology as he lets go of my shirt.

"You thought it was bad before, fag? You don't even know what's coming." He storms off and I watch him go, still gaping. Why did I apologize? It's not my fault. Is it?

"Keith," another, more unfamiliar voice calls from the other end of the hall. I wince and turn, expecting to see Luis or Connor charging me like Bryce. Instead I see sandy, brown hair. Deep, ocean abyss, blue eyes that only stand out further against golden tan skin. Lance. Real Lance. He approaches me, his long legs make longer strides until he's standing in front of me. He's only a couple inches taller than I am but looking at his golden face is like staring up into the sun.

"Did you get my email this morning? I wanted to make sure you were okay after the news broke out about Brogan..."

I must look like I'm trying to catch flies, my jaw has dropped so far. It's Lance. Standing in front of me. His beautiful lips on his beautiful face are standing in front of me asking if I'm okay. Worrying about me. Confirming that everything I thought about him was wrong. He's real.

"I'm fine. I guess. I don't know. I didn't check my email this morning. Honestly I didn't expect to get anything. I figured it was another fake account trying to trick me. Again."

"It's not. I promise, even though that's probably obvious now." He laughs nervously and straightens his bag straps on his broad shoulders.

"Yeah, I figured that much." We stand in awkward silence for a while before he clears his throat.

"I have to get to class but email me, okay?"

The real Lance McClain just told me to email him. Though there isn't a chance in the world he's gay (I'm not that lucky), the most beautiful boy I've ever seen just told me to email him. That's enough for me.

 I sit at my desk agonizing over my inbox. What do I say now? How do I know he's not just in cahoots with his sister now that he's back? I've never been gullible, this naive. It burns me that a boy I barely know can make me so weak. I have to remember he isn't the Lance I spoke to for a month. The one I fell for. The one I trusted.

kogane1023@gmail.com

Subject: hi

lance, it's weird talking to you. the real you. so, sorry for the slow responses. are you holding up okay?

bluemcclain17@gmail.com

Subject: Hi

Keith, I'm sorry, I am also sorry for saying sorry so much. I know this is probably weirder for you than it is for me but I'd like to be friends? I feel like I'm being so lame. I'm holding up fine, you?

kogane1023@gmail.com

Subject: i don't know what to put for the subject

lance, i should go to bed for now but maybe text me? 540-736-0190

I shut my computer off for the night and crawl into bed with a smile on my face for once.