Listen closely: I am not a coward.
I've never ran away just because I got in trouble; I run away because every place I've been to keeps me from being on my own. I don't want a clean slate, I don't want to pretend that something never happened. If it stays in my thoughts, it stays in my thoughts. I won't push it away. I just want to do whatever I'd like, without orders from somebody else, whether it be the police, or foster parents. I just want to be my own person.
A real coward is someone who breaks promises. A real coward leaves the people that need them, the people they're responsible for in the dust without a second thought. A real coward only cares about themselves, and what benefits they get. A real coward is my father. And I made myself a promise to never be like him.
It seemed as though spring had come at a certain moment, those tiny first flowers reaching up from the ground only a few days ago. There was a warm breeze blowing, making the flowering trees whisper as baby birds chirped somewhere nearby. I tied my hair in a ponytail, pulling down the tight gym shorts once more and walking quickly to catch up with the class. They gave me gym clothes to wear; a burgundy shirt with a tiny Victoria Prep insignia and black shorts that were obviously made for a guy's eyes. Or a girl's. Whatever you're into.
We started to jog around the football field, and I stayed directly in the middle, keeping up with all the normally fit people. The mix of running, jumping, and being on edge all the time keeps me fit, along with longboarding. That's yet another benefit of being a graffiti artist. You stay in shape.
Derek was lagging behind, which was odd, since he was usually one of those guys who sprinted and tried to stay in the front, like this was the Olympics. He started walking once he was halfway around, breathing hard. He eventually met the rest of the class with red cheeks as we all went into warm-ups.
"Guess he sits around counting his money," I said to Caleb, who laughed. Ricky and Drew were in some other gym class, and Emma didn't even go to the school, so he was the only person that wasn't an asshole.
After our teacher said something I didn't really care about, we all grabbed lacrosse sticks and Caleb grabbed a rubber ball.
"Are you any good at lacrosse?" he asked, cradling the ball casually as we walked to an empty section of the field.
"Sticks and balls? Haven't really dealt with them much." I replied.
He threw the ball towards me, and it fell on the ground. I quickly scooped it up,and threw it back.This went on for a while, no conversation between us, before he threw the ball with such force that it flew over the fence, which separated the field from the bleachers.
"Hey, you can climb fences, right?"
I released a chuckle, poking him with my stick. "Yeah, so can you. I'll get another one."
I walked to the basket, bending down slightly to grab another ball, and that's when I heard a giggle, and felt a hand come in contact with my butt.
I turned around in a flash, holding the lacrosse stick like a baseball bat.The guy had a large smile on his face, giving various high fives to his friends, including Derek. I walked towards the boy, holding my lacrosse stick up and hitting him in the head. His friends were silent, and he turned around, holding his head.
"Hey, it was just a--"
I hit him again, using the stick to my advantage and swinging it across his face, using the end.
"Don't you dare touch me again," I said, pressing my finger in between his collarbones.
"Take that stick out of your butt for once, it was a joke," Derek said, a smile on his face. He knew I couldn't hurt him, and was using it to his advantage.
What he forgot about was the fact that Ricky wasn't here to stop me.
I hit him hard in the side, and he fell to the ground, covering his mouth to keep the teacher from hearing the creative language that escaped his mouth. It wasn't that hard, to be honest. He wasn't as tough as he pretended to be.
"It wasn't very funny," I said, bending on one knee so that I was closer to his level.
"You're a bitch," he spat, squeezing his eyes shut as he held his sides. I walked over to Caleb, who's face was filled with shock, as though he wasn't sure whether he should applaud me or scold me. We continued without much conversation.
. . .
The headmaster's office was chilly.
It had three burgundy chairs inside of it, and his desk had a dark wooden finish, his nameplate beside a pencil container and a neat stack of paper on the side. He was busily typing something before I came in, and he turned around at the sound of the door.
"Oh, hello Casey. Have a seat. The other boys will be here soon."
I was called to the office in the middle of science, and I knew exactly why. Not a single fragment of guilt or shame rested in my mind, even though I knew for a fact that this would probably be turned around on me, especially since Derek and the Headmaster were related. There was no way he wouldn't win this round.
I didn't say anything, grabbing a chair and sitting down. Looking around was the only way to avoid conversation, so that's exactly what I did; twiddling my thumbs and moving my eyes around the room. The door eventually opened, Derek and the other boy walking in, right behind each other. Derek, of course, had to grab a seat and sit next to me, his friend sitting next to him.
"Apparently, there was an....incident earlier today during physical education," the Headmaster finally said, turning towards us, "Isn't that correct?"
We all nodded on various levels.
"Can you tell me what happened exactly, Derek?"
I looked down, so the headmaster couldn't see my smirk. Saying someone's name after the original sentence meant A) the person was talking while you were B) you were trying to manipulate the person, or C) you were close to them, in some way or another. He was trying to hide the fact that Derek was his nephew, and I was sure as hell he didn't do a very good job.
"We were just playing a little joke on Casey," he said, stabbing his thumb at me, "And she didn't take it that way."
"Is that so?" he replied, turning to the other boy, "and what do you believe happened, Anthony?"
"Someone dared me to do something to Casey," he said, motioning towards me, "and so I did it. She hit me with her lacrosse stick, and hit Derek, too."
"Mmm," he hummed, straightening a stack of papers and then looking me in the eye. "Now, Casey," he said, "what is your side of the story?"
I sighed, looking up at the ceiling. "I was going to get a ball for lacrosse, since me and my partner's original ball had gone over the fence. I went to get another one, and while bending down, Anthony decided it was an excellent idea to slap my butt. After telling him not to touch me again, I returned the favor of humiliating by hitting him with the stick. You're oh-so-lovely Derek decided to use his mouth, so I did the same."
"Anthony, can I ask you a question?" the headmaster said, fingertips touching and palms apart, "why did you take such a dare?"
Anthony looked down and shrugged, trying to convince him that he was ashamed of his actions. He really wasn't, I knew. He'd brag to his friends about it later.
"And what was it that Derek said?"
"He said for me to get the stick out of my...butt for once," I said, trying to make myself seem as clean cut as possible, "and that it was just a joke."
Mr. Wentworth, as they probably called him, sighed, a silence filling the room as he most likely sorted his thoughts.
" Well, we all have something to learn from this today," he finally concluded, and looked to Anthony, "You need to think before you act. About how the person feels, and about the possible consequences. If this happens again, I won't go so easy on you." He then turned to me, "You were technically defending yourself, but the attack on Derek was unecessary. There's a right and wrong time to be aggressive, and you need to tone it down sometimes." I crossed my arms, looking somewhere to the side. I wouldn't tone it down, especially for someone like the kids who go here. Thanks for the advice, though.
Finally, he looked Derek right in the eye, and pointed to him.
"You need to learn to watch your mouth. Saying things the way you do can get you in a lot of trouble. You didn't like being hit, did you?"
Derek shook his head, not making eye contact.
"Well, I guess we're done here," Mr. Wentworth finally spoke, pushing his chair outward, "I'll be calling all of your parents to report this, and if it happens again, I'll do a lot more than that. It was good to meet you, Casey. I wish we were meeting on better circumstances. Go back to your classes."
As we walked into the halls, I realized we were all going in the same direction, which made a small part of me wish the headmaster had kept me for a bit longer than the rest of them.
"You just had to tell him about what I said, didn't you?" Derek snapped quietly, walking next tp me.
"You shouldn't have opened that large mouth of yours," I replied, shrugging, "Guess you're getting no money this week."
"You don't know shit," he rejoined, light brown eyes like daggers, "Your family doesn't care about how you act."
"Now you're the one who doesn't know anything," I said, stopping in front of my classroom, entering, and slamming the door behind me before he could create a comeback.
When I entered the classroom, Caleb looked at me, but couldn't say anything due to the fact that we sat far away from each other. Curious stares and a few stray whispers were given, but nobody bothered to ask what happened. They just went back to their work, and acted like it was none of their business. And it wasn't.
I knew I would receive a talk from Melodie about the situation, but even if she grounded me, I'd just go out when she was sleeping. Plus, I barely used my electronics. I could already hear her irritating cheery voice in my head, telling me that this shouldn't happen again, and that I needed to adjust to my new life, and accept it. Maybe she'd even attempt to be stern this time.
And Drew, of course, would text me about it, probably scold me. Tell me that I need to get into less trouble; that it'll all catch up to me in the end.
But it hasn't yet. It won't.