Bullied [Peterick]

2

~Pete's POV~

I felt bad for the kid. He had no friends and based on what I saw, his peers were pretty harsh to him. Being his teacher and all it's my job to help him right? Yesterday, Patrick wouldn't tell me what happened. He wouldn't tell me when I asked him after class today either. I didn't push him too hard or else I might eventually push him away. I wanted him to keep coming to me. When he did, I felt needed.

I opened up a new window on my computer and typed in the URL for Pandora. I picked Metallica and pulled out some paperwork to start on. Lunch is always a nice break in the day. After this, I had a planning hour all to myself. If I wanted to, I technically could have an hour and a half for lunch. Not bad, if you ask me.

An almost inaudible knock sounded through the guitars that filled the room. Without looking up from my papers, I called, "it's open!"

The door squeaked slowly on its hinges. I turned down the computer speakers and lifted my head. I met the nervous eyes of Patrick Stump standing in front of me like a lost puppy. He held a tray of food out in front of him with both hands tucked into his sleeves. The timid boy's eyes spoke for him.

"Hi there," I smiled, warmly. He looked relieved. A feeling of triumph rushed through me. I did something right.

"Hi," he said almost in a whisper then gave me a small smile in return. "Can I h-have," He started weakly. Patrick cleared his throat and spoke in a stronger tone. "Can I have lunch here?"

"Yeah, of course!" I grinned. "It'll be nice to have some company here. I hope you like Metallica." I turned up the music a little bit after Patrick nodded his head with a shy smile.

Patrick sat down in the front row a few chairs away from my desk. I know what he's doing. He didn't want to be too far away to make it awkward but he didn't want to be too close and seem clingy. I've been there before. I know how he feels. I acted similarly to him in high school but not as extreme because I had a couple of friends to help me through it.

I tried to initiate a conversation. "How's your day going so far?"

"Good, I guess," he shrugged.

"No conflicts or anything like that?"

"No."

"That's good." Nice conversation, Wentz. "So what do you like to do?"

"I play music." Patrick hadn't looked up from his tray since he came in here. He's barely even eaten anything either. He reminded me of a rabbit because of the way he sat there picking at his salad.

"Oh, nice! What instrument?" I finally got a conversation going that didn't totally suck.

"I play the drums, bass, guitar, piano, and I sing a little," Patrick blushed. "I write music too. Not lyrics or anything, I suck at writing."

"Holy shit, kid! Uh, holy crap. I meant crap," I chuckled. A small giggle escaped Patrick's lips. "That's really impressive! The only thing I can really play is the bass guitar. I strum an acoustic here and there but you got me beat."

Patrick blushed even harder. Not the typical light pink on the cheeks but he went full-on tomato face. It was cute. "Thanks, Mr. Wentz," grinned Patrick.

"Yeah, no problem!" I marveled at Patrick. How could a kid like that possibly get his feelings squashed so hard by so many people that he hid from his own peers? He's talented, he's sweet, he's smart, and he needs a friend. I told myself I would be that friend. I would be there for him.

After lunch, I watched Patrick leave my classroom. I wanted him to stay. He just finished telling me about some of the music he was working on. He wrote songs all the time. Patrick even showed me the notebook he always carried with him dedicated to his music. I didn't read it. As much as I would love to read his work, I didn't want to pressure him into allowing me to.

During the final period, I got called to the office. I left my students to silently read. I don't care if they actually silently read or throw paper balls at each other. I just don't want teachers down the hall running into my classroom wondering why my room is full of yelling kids jumping on tables.

All I was told through the phone was that Patrick had an anxiety attack or something similar. I'm pretty experienced with this considering I lived with them in high school too. I still live with them, actually. Anytime I put in an order at Starbucks, or any type of restaurant for that matter, I can feel the anxiety bubbling up inside me. It's not a pleasant feeling.

I almost ran to the office. Well, I kind of did run. When I got there, the nurse and a counselor were on both sides of him. Patrick's head rested in his lap and his hands were covering his ears. Patrick rocked back and forth in his chair. He rapidly took in shallow breaths. I was informed he had already thrown up on the way to the office.

I waved the counselor away and sat down next to the trembling boy. I gently rubbed circles on his back and whispered words of reassurance. Patrick leaned against me for support. "Hey, hey, hey I'm here now," I cooed.

"He only asked for you," the nurse stated. She backed off a little and sat down in a wooden chair a few feet away from me. "He didn't want anyone else to help out."

"I'll take it from here," I promised. The nurse smiled sadly and left the room.

"Patrick," I said gently. "Here. Take ten deep breaths with me okay?" Patrick nodded quickly. "Okay good. You're doing good. Here we go, one," I took a deep breath alongside my student. "Alright awesome! Two. You can get through this! Three. You're doing great, Patrick, keep it up!" I finished counting and cheering him on after a while. I smiled down at him. "You did it! Are you feeling at least a little bit better now?" I asked.

Patrick looked up at me and nodded slowly. He wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me in for a hug. "Thank you," he hoarsely whispered. Warmth seeped through the cloth covering my shoulder. He was crying. I wrapped my arms tightly around his torso. I didn't know how else to comfort him. I may be good with anxiety but that's about it.

"How about I take you home early today?" I suggested. "Today's been rough. I'm proud of you! You fought through it. I'll take you home if you'd like?"

"Please," Patrick smiled. He swiped the tears away with his thumb.

I drove Patrick home about fifteen minutes early. I'd totally forgotten I left my students in the classroom alone unsupervised. If the principal finds out, I can kiss my job goodbye for sure.

Patrick directed me to a small grey house right off the highway. I pulled into the driveway and let him out of my car.

"Stay?" Patrick adjusted his glasses and gave me his best puppy eyes. "Please?"

I gave in with a sigh. My students are probably fine. "Well if you insist!" Patrick visibly relaxed when I smiled at him. He led me inside.

The kitchen was small yet modern which adjoined the living room decorated with pictures and paintings adorning the walls. The living room held black leather couches pushed against the wall, wooden end tables, and a medium-sized flat-screen TV.

Patrick set his backpack down in the corner of the kitchen near the front door. "So this is my house."

"It's a nice house." It started out awkward, but somehow we ended up talking about old movies and TV shows. Ghostbusters in particular. I left before Patrick's mom got home. I would save the introduction for parent-teacher conferences.