Ratbags and Scallywags [bxb]

Chapter 16

My jaw clenched; fists tightening into balls.

"Excuse me, sir," I said, pushing my chair back and standing up. "I need the bathroom."

"Sure thing," Mr. Hardy said with a nod, turning to the whiteboard as I made for the door. Ikeisha's eyes set on me, soft and kind. I smiled at her as I left, only mildly surprised when she smiled back.

"Alright, alright," Mr. Hardy continued, "Let's get on with class-"

His voice disappeared as I closed the classroom door behind me. I looked left and right down the hall, wondering where Aubrey might've gone. The toilets, maybe? The field? The nurse's office? Deciding it might be worth checking all of them in order of proximity, I went for the closest toilets first. There were muffled, but audibly loud voices coming from inside.

Coming through the door, I found Donovan and a few friends leaning against the far wall smoking cigarettes. Absolute derelicts if I'd ever seen them.

Sorry, Aubrey, for my longstanding wrong opinion of you.

Donovan lowered his cigarette and glared as I entered. The walls felt like they tightened as I realized he probably still had it out for after my goading last time. Fragile masculinity was a dangerous timebomb sometimes. If Aubrey was in here, he probably wasn't coming out in a hurry. As I glanced across the line of doors for occupied ones, Donovan dropped his cigarette and grounded it beneath his shoe.

Only one was occupied.

"Looky here," he said, marching towards me. "It's the disabled-loving faggot come back for his overdue ass-kickin'."

His friends snickered, quiet compared to last time since they were in hiding. I rolled my eyes at his careless insult.

"If memory serves me... I was all but flirting with you last time," I said, recalling our previous incident. He stood close. I hated the smell of his garbage breath puffing through my nostrils. The smell was so hot and rancid that it settled and lingered on my tongue, making me want to gargle some cyanide to rid myself of the aftertaste.

If I gagged the way I wanted to, I'd be pummeled for sure. "But call yourself what you want, though. You're still valid," I quickly added.

His lip curled into a snarl, towering over me, eyes boring into mine threateningly. "You're a funny little prick, aren't ya?"

"About the same as what you've got between your legs," I retorted, bounding toward the exit. My shirt pulled, sending me stumbling back.

Two of his friends pinned my arms down with their feet, flicking ash onto my white uniform shirt. My shirt collar had ridden up as he dragged me back, and I watched with horror as an ember burned through it, inches from my face. I scowled, glaring back up at him.

"You're really gonna do this, then?" I asked through gritted teeth. "Can you bloody well afford to?"

"You really wanna test me, huh, Rascal?" He placed his foot on my stomach, slowly but surely applying pressure until I was ready to vomit. I choked on coughs, fighting back the nausea of having my organs all but crushed beneath his weight. I wanted to grab it and throw him off me, but his friends still had me pinned.

I grunted and threw my leg up to catch the back of his knee, making him buckle over. His other knee collapsed on my stomach, making me gasp for air. His friends released my arms, allowing me to grapple the horse on top of me. He practically whinnied as I sent him toppling forward towards the door.

His groupies wasted no time hauling me to my feet.

I stood panting, unable to catch my breath as they shoved and jerked me around, tossing me between them. A hand touched my backside more than once. And when I faced the same early Justin Timberlake, noodle-haired perpetrator, I felt his finger subtly stroke my peck before shoving me again.