Lost In My Head, Found In My Heart

Chapter 11 - Casey

Casey's mind was racing as he went to his room to change. He dropped Chase's clothes on the bed and debated grabbing his own clothes. Now that he was at his place, that was an option. He had no reason to wear the clothes that Chase had brought along, other than he wanted to. They smelled like Chase. Also, they probably had been on his body before. Creep out much, ya perv? Okay, he told himself, I need to get dressed before Chase wonders what's taking so long. So, he removed his sneakers and jeans, before putting on the clothes he'd dropped on the bed. With that discussion resolved, he mind returned to facing the reality. Chase was in his home, seeing how the other half lived. Casey felt like every detail of his life was revealed to Chase here. The house reflected him to Chase. Not fancy, not pretty, just plain and in need of repairs. Who wouldn't want to be around that? He scoffed.

Why was Chase really here? What about his girlfriend? He had to admit that he really wanted to stay at Chase's home, but when he saw the way that girl looked at Chase and at him, he knew his welcome had come to an end. His house had been empty when he walked in the door, and still, he almost called out for his mom, strictly out of habit. Despite all appearances,  the facts were still the same. He was alone. He was a loser. And he was from the wrong side of the tracks. He'd never be one of the popular kids. Surprisingly, he was okay with that. He just didn't want to be the target of the popular kids. He wanted a friend. He wanted a chance to be who he was without fear of physical  harm. 

Back in Chicago, he'd sought the same things too. But Frank Mitchell and Lloyd Faust had made it impossible. It occurred to him that it started similarly to this. Lloyd made friends with him. They started hanging out together. The signs were there, so he made a move on Lloyd. And while he seemed to be into the kiss for a second, suddenly, he pushed Casey away and started calling him all kinds of vulgar names. Then, he hit Casey, knocking him into a bookcase before bolting from the room. The whole thing had played in his head every night after that. I guess that was that, he figured. Then, began harassment at school that escalated quickly. It started with verbal bashing. Then, it turned into vandalism of his locker and books. Next were the threatening letters he'd find in his stuff when he got home. Of course, he'd kept all this hidden from his mom. He didn't want her getting upset about something that couldn't be stopped or fixed. But when they pushed it too far, he couldn't keep it from her anymore. 

Casey had come out of the back of the school to avoid his tormentors. It was his routine and had been for a while, so he didn't even check to make sure the coast was clear. Then, he heard it...a slur launched directly at him. He looked up, and there were Frank, Lloyd and a couple of their cronies. He stopped dead in his tracks, that is until they started moving towards him with their hands balled into fists. At that, his fight or flight instinct kicked in, and he chose flight. He spun around and sprinted towards a grove of trees behind the school. He could barely hear their shouts over the pounding of his heart in his ears as they charged after him, like hounds after a fox. Casey was fast, he knew that. He just hoped he was fast enough to get away. A quick look back over his shoulder proved him right. He was quickly distancing himself from them. Relief flooded his insides. It was short-lived, though, as he spun his head back around to watch where he was going and quickly found himself on the ground. When he looked up, he saw what he'd run into. It was Hodges, another of Frank and Lloyd's friends...Wesley Hodges. He was six foot four, two hundred seventy-five pounds combination of muscle and fat, a defensive lineman on the varsity football squad. As Casey sought to clear his ringing head and get his bearings, Frank and Lloyd arrived with the others. Fear swamped Casey as he looked up at their sneering faces. He struggled to get to his feet but received a fist to the face and a shout to stay down. Even so, his fear kept urging him to get up, to run, to get away. After a few more failed attempt and a few more punches to the face and gut, the kicking started. Now the fear told him to hide, to curl up and protect his core...his head. His reality began to blur around the edges and the shouts and pain seemed to retreat. 

The next thing he remembered was still laying in the grass and his whole body hurt. As his blurred vision clear slightly, he looked up to find Mr. Montague, the math teacher, kneeling by him, phone in his hand. Behind him was another student, Maurice something, with a look of fear or maybe sympathy. With his head swimming, he had trouble keeping his eyes open. Mr. Montague kept saying, hang in there. Help is on the way. Soon, he could hear sirens, but they sounded so far away. His head was ringing and everything hurt so bad. He just wanted to go to sleep.

Later, in the hospital, when he woke up the first time, at least that he could remember, there was his mom, sitting in a chair by the bed. She was sleeping, but she was holding his hand. She must have felt him move because her eyes opened and looked at him. There was so much pain and worry in those eyes. Despite the struggle of their circumstance, he'd never seen so much worry on her face before. All he said was, "Mom?" She immediately launched from the chair and laid across his chest, hugging him and kissing his face. He tried to lift his arms to hug her back but they ached and felt as heavier than a shovel full of wet snow. So, he just laid there and breathed her in. He managed a few kisses on her cheek, too. They stayed like that until the nurse came in to check on him.

Casey was in the hospital for another week. Over that time, he was interviewed by the police twice. They were his only visitors, other than his mother, until the day before he was discharged. That's the day Maurice visited him. It turned out that Maurice has seen the attack and went for Mr. Montague. Casey thanked him for that. He felt bad that he'd never even talked to this boy, and still, he'd saved his life. Maurice blushed and looked down. He fell silent for a few heartbeats before he said, without raising his head, "Is it true? What those boys were saying, is it true?"

Casey was bewildered. He didn't know what he was talking about. He really didn't remember much about the attack. So, Maurice proceeded. "Are you...do you like boys?"

Fear flared in Casey's chest. What should he say? Should he lie? He didn't want to lose the prospect of a friend, since he really didn't have any other than Lacey. So, he swallowed the lump in his throat and just nodded. He couldn't even look at Maurice. He waited for the door to close behind him. But instead, Maurice moved closer to the bed and laid his hand on Casey's. "Me too," is all he said.