Post-P.E. locker room has never been my favorite. The toxic masculinity and horseplay that borders harassment have always made me feel uncomfortable. Thankfully, my mind would be distracted because I'd be chatting with Abe. Besides him warding off the jock hijinx for me, I loved stealing little glances at his bare torso. I know that makes me sound like a creep, but I always behaved myself. Not to mention, we had a conversation about my wonder eyes once after he called me out on it. He told me it was natural for dudes to check what other guys have going on. Strangely, after that, he was even less modest, and I tried harder to keep my eyes to myself. Abe would say things that demanded my attention, almost as if he was daring me to look at him in various stages of undress. But he failed. I got really good at immediately and aggressively giving unbroken and intense eye contact.
Boys. Don't let them fool you. They know what they're doing.
Now I am here in the Wild West on my own. It would make sense that the locker room is where I get my face smashed in. Or this is what I think as my face crashes into a metal locker. At first, I am disoriented. I was midway through putting my shirt on after showering when someone shoved me. As my head pokes through the hole, I see Stephan standing there, in just a towel, laughing. It takes me a sec to recognize him without the hat Clay gave him that he has been wearing for a week straight.
"Careful, Ass-O. Don't hurt yourself," my once bully then acquaintance back to apparent bully says.
"What the hell, Stephan? I thought we were cool." I regret the words the moment they leave my mouth.
Stephan closes the space between us and pushes me against the locker.
"I am not sure what gave you the idea that we are cool, but there is nothing more I'd rather do than knock you out and shove you in a locker."
"Call me crazy, but me saving your ass at your party last weekend should constitute two people as cool."
His hand presses me back. His thumb digs into my collarbone. I swallow hard in preparation for his grip moving further north. He gets in my face. His bully trademark.
"You must have been dreaming, Ass-O. Why would I invite you to one of my parties?"
Is he high?
But there is no doubt that he is serious. It's like the party, or my existence at it, was wiped from his memory. His behavior. His invite. His gratitude. All gone. But how?
Stephan is rambling about the terrible things he is going to do to me when I realize what is different. He isn't wearing the hat. The hat that Clay gave him. Clay is actually Slammer. Slammer and his team are exploring Matriarch's plan to mind control holders. Stephan was being mind controlled.
"No shit," I say out loud as my eyes cut to Stephan's baseball cap sitting on the bench beside us.
Now his mitts are on my neck. "You have a death wish, don't you?"
As the room starts to go dark, I think, Cool. I am going to die in a locker room at the hands of an idiot in a questionably homoerotic scene out of a bad porno. I deserve this.
Then I realize the dark isn't my brain losing oxygen but a shadow being cast from the end of the locker aisle.
It's Abe. Of course. He hasn't been at school for a few days, but he is back just in time to see Stephan pummel me. Again.
"Oh look, Ass-O, your protector is here to save you."
His grip gets tighter.
"Lay off the roids, bro," I croak out.
"Abey boy, are you not gonna help your little buddy here?" Stephan taunts.
My eyes meet Abe's. They are tired and sad. But the part that is really scary is how cold they are.
"Nope," Abe says and turns to walk away.
I don't wait for the answer to sink into Stephan's brain or my heart. Instead, I stretch my foot out and snag the band of Stephan's hat with my toe. With a viral video-worthy kickflip, I fling the cap up to my waiting hand.
Before Stephan can get his next threat out, I plop the hat down on his head. His eyes close with a long blink. His hand let go of me, and I slide down the locker. Stephan stumbles backward and runs into the changing bench. I grab his arm to keep him from falling as he sits back hard on the wooden surface. I can't tell if it's out of instinct or actual care for him.
He looks up at me as if he is just waking up. "Hey, Noah. Good catch."
He smiles at me in thanks.
"Yeah, man. These floors get slippery. Be careful."
I pat his shoulder, grab my bag, and jet. It isn't until I make it safely to the library across campus that I stop and pull out my phone.
–ME–Ok. This is dumb. Can we talk about what happened?
"Mr. Brasso. No phones in the Media Center," Mrs. Livre the librarian scolds me.
"Sorry bout that," I say as I press send.
"I'm sure you can talk to Abe in class later today," she adds, making a normally true observation.
"Doubtful," I reply.
I stow my phone back in my pocket and hit the crowded hallways as my message pops up in the text thread I have going with Clay.