!! Trigger Warning: Homophobia, Bullying !!
Whisper.
Whisper. Whisper.
Whisper. Whisper. Whisper.
I’d never spent much thought on the moment when I’d leave the shadows and step into the light, but if I had, I certainly wouldn’t have expected it to blind me like a wave of searchlights.
Clay hadn’t exaggerated when saying that his boys would watch my every move. Most of them kept their distance, quietly following me like shadows in the hallways. Whenever our eyes met, there was guilt written all over their faces for a brief moment before they averted their gazes. They were not the reason why my fellow students began to take notice of me. The reason was a tall lanky boy with angel-like curls and square-framed glasses that were too big for his slim face.
I’d been aware that we were in the same art class on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, but I’d never talked to Gage Evans before. Trying to describe his personality would take hours, so let’s just say that he was…not what I’d expected.
“Kenji-boy!”
I didn’t know whose eyes were bigger — mine or those of all other students in our art class — when Gage Evans chose the vacant chair next to mine to put the final touches to his comic adaptation.
He returned my startled look with a wide grin. “Cap told me you that need a babysitter. Pleasure” He placed a pale hand on his chest. “Gage Bartholomew Evans the First. But you can call me Evans, Kenji-boy.”
I nodded.
Hey, I was still me.
Evans didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he was talking all class long and even Mr. Devereux telling him to be quiet didn’t stop the words coming from his mouth. He just rolled his green eyes and went on talking - just a bit more quietly. Naturally, he didn’t get anything done during this lesson. As far as I could tell, he hadn’t even finished his layout whereas most students had already started coloring their pages. Well, I chuckled, another reason for his lack of motivation might’ve been that he had to make a comic about Dirty Dancing.
“Holy cow!” I had just finished packing my things when Evans peeked over my shoulder at my drawing. “Dude, that’s amazing!” He regarded the picture of Maverick prosing in front of his jet. “No clue what movie that is — I’m not that much into Mr. D’s classics — but it looks awesome!”
I murmured “Thanks” and closed the lid on my art folder before handing it over to Mr. Devereux when leaving the classroom.
“Kenji.” His smile made the wrinkles around his eyes stand out even more prominently. “Did you think about my suggestion? I’m sure the editing team would be delighted to meet you.”
I could literally see Evans’s ears grow bigger.
Lowering my gaze, I tugged at my hoodie’s sleeve. “Not yet, sir. I don’t know if I have time for…”
“Sure, sure, but please think about it. Don’t refuse it right away, will you? You’re very talented; don’t let it go to waste.”
A long slim arm went around my shoulders, pushing me towards the exit. “He’s right, Kenji-boy!” Evans exclaimed and messed up my hair with his left hand. Unlike when Clay had touched me, it didn’t bother me with Evans. I assumed it was because he hadn’t been there on Friday. Over and over again, he’d reassured me of this…right before telling me many other things… Some that were quite interesting - like him getting two offers for scholarships for being an extraordinary winger - and some things I really didn’t wanna know - like the spot of his new piercing that had gotten inflamed.
I shot him a black look through my messed-up hair.
He frowned. “Your eye…”
Crap.
I broke loose from his hold and fixed my bangs until they covered the right side of my face again.
Evans ran a hand through his blonde curls. “Hey, it’s cool.”
“It’s not.” My voice was ice.
“Okaaay.” He needed a moment to regain his composure, turned his head from side to side until his neck made a cracking sound, and mere seconds later, his wide grin returned.
Amazing.
If I’d put my foot in it like he just had, I would’ve been moody for the rest of the week, not talking to anybody.
But Evans just put a hand on my back and pushed me out into the hallway. “We better talk on our way. Cap will be mad if we’re late for practice.”
Practice…
One word that could make my blood turn ice cold.
I had no idea how this was supposed to work…
…if leaving the art room already proved to be a challenge.
In front of our classroom, there was a big crowd in the hallway; unusual for this time of day, when most students were either on the way to their clubs or heading home.
“Always the same,” mumbled Evans next to me. I didn’t get it until he pulled me through the crowd. “Yo, Cap!”
Cap?
It was a ridiculously biblical moment when the sea of students parted in front of us and revealed Clay leaning casually against the blue lockers. His grey t-shirt clung tightly to his muscular chest, even more so since there was one girl clinging to each of his arms.
Clay released the girls from his limbs with a charming smile before raising one brow when we came to stand next to him. “You’re late.”
Evans tugged at my hood. “His fault.”
“What?” I stared at him.
“If little Kenji-boy weren’t so talented that Mr. D wants him to join the Blitz!, we would've been on time.” He pulled me to his side. “This little guy is awfully popular.”
Embarrassing.
Very very embarrassing.
It wasn’t just Clay who was eyeing me curiously now. All other students in the hallway did, too. I tried turning invisible, but my superpower was out of order. More so since Evans kept rambling about my so-called talent as if I were some kind of prodigy.
I met Clay’s gaze while still trying to vanish into my hoodie. Whatever he saw, it made him grab Evans’s nape and push him towards the exit. “Do you breathe from time to time?”
“Sure!” Evans didn’t let go of me for a second and dragged me along with them through the hallway. “Oxygen’s important! You need it for thinking.”
“Yeah, then you’re certainly lacking some,” snorted Clay. He didn’t seem to notice the stares of the other students following us, or maybe he was just used to them. For me, however, it was completely new being watched by so many eyes. As soon as their gaze left the bickering soccer players and fell on me, they got confused, unbelieving.
Yeah, it ought to be hard to accept. In front of me: two soccer players, over six feet tall, athletic, and with their sports bags hanging over their shoulders. Behind them: myself — short, dressed in black, and with the dark backpack on my shoulders, I was the shadow to their light.
As soon as we exited the building, the crow resolved. Still, I kept my gaze lowered to the ground, though, a wave of relief washed over me when it was finally just the three of us.
At least, until Clay cursed under his breath.
Evans stopped and pulled me back.
“What is it?” I asked trying to look around Clay when he moved his body right in front of me. Evans held on tight.
“Take him inside,” ordered Clay. “I’ll handle them.”
“What?” I asked when Evans dragged me to the sports ground. “W…ouch.”
Something hard hit my head and I stopped despite Evans’s grasp. I watched the small pebble fall to the ground…and looked over my shoulder in utter confusion.
My temperature dropped, even though it was terribly hot outside. Drake and Hayden were sitting below the oak tree, their piercing gazes focused solely on my tiny frame. For a brief second, I wondered where Jack had been, but only looking at the two of them made my stomach twist.
Drake was still holding up the arm with which he’d thrown the stone. “C’mere, faggot!”
“Evans!” hissed Clay.
“Sure…sure.” Evans pulled me towards the locker room’s building.
Even at this fast pace, I still tried watching out for Clay. “But doesn’t he need help?”
“Cap will handle it,” murmured Evans.
He pulled open the door to the locker room. “Kenner! Ducky! Alvarez!” Three players with the build of wardrobes rushed in our direction. “Cap needs your help!”
Avoiding my gaze, they were heading outside.
Still, I couldn’t take my eyes off the opened door. What if somebody got hurt because of me?
“Don’t worry, nothing’s gonna happen to them,” Evans tried to convince me and pushed me inside the locker room.
I already knew the scene awaiting me. Awkward silence welcoming the unwelcome intruder. This time, though, all of the Thunderbirds were dressed in their practice suits made of black shorts paired with a white jersey with the Tunderbirds’s logo over their hearts.
Putting his hand on my shoulders Evans pushed me forward. “Be nice, boys, and say hello to Kenji-boy.”
None of them said hello.
Instead, they exchanged glances before lining up in front of me.
I prepared for the worst.
“We’re sorry!”
Huh?
Speechless, I stared at these boys. I’d expected awkward silence, the occasional mistrusting glare — three of their teammates had been forced to leave the club because of me, after all.
Instead…they were apologizing.
Evans shook me lightly. “Say something, or they’ll never move again.”
Oh.
“It…it’s okay.”
As if nothing had ever happened, the group dissolved, and the players went on chatting with each other.
“Fine, now you sit down here, and wait till I’m ready.” Evans pulled the backpack from my shoulders and pushed me down onto the wooden bench. He couldn’t know that, now, I was staring right at the spot where they’d held me captive. Where they’d laughed…and…
Refusing to give in to the urge to run home, I stumbled out of the locker room and onto the sports ground. Outside, I leaned forward with both hands put on my bent thighs fighting for air.
Was this ever going to stop?
“So, you’re the boy who made me lose three of my regulars.” A chill went through my body at the sound of the harsh voice. Coach Simpson — dressed in his usual black practice suit — twirled his dark grey mustache. His cool green eyes were everything but kind when they took in my pathetic appearance. “Prescott told me he’d bring you along. Probably for the best. Chances are that Gordon and his toadies would kill you otherwise.”
He said it as if it were only natural for them to come back at me.
“Boys like you will always clash with boys like them, son.”
S…son?
“And we don’t need boys like that in our team.”
I wasn’t certain which kind of boys he referred to. Gays or bullies.
Coach Simpson patted my shoulder. “Come, son. If you’re here anyway, you can just as well make yourself useful.”
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