I would’ve loved to know why Deon was so nice to me. We spent the afternoon just driving around. We didn’t talk much, but there wasn’t really anything to talk about. Beau was all I could think of, and Deon seemed to be deep in his own thoughts. At some point he drove us to the beach and parked the car at the side of the road, turned the engine off and focused his eyes on the sea. Neither of us spoke a word in a long time.

I didn’t mind the silence – I just wanted to wallow in my sadness.

I couldn’t believe Beau had fooled me like that. I’d let my hopes up, only to be crushed by him all over again. This time it didn’t hurt as much as it had the first time, but it still hurt too much.

“I want to die,” I said out loud. At first, I wasn’t sure if Deon had heard me. He stayed silent for a moment before he let out a sigh.

“There are plenty of people who wish they could live,” he spoke quietly. “People with cancer and shit.”

“Tell me how, and I’ll give my life to someone else,” I said. “Someone who deserves to be alive.”

“You should be more grateful,” Deon said and turned the engine on again. “If you hate your life, do something about it. Change it.”

“How?” I muttered, but he heard me.

“Don’t be such a whiny bitch. High school is over soon, and then you’ll get away from all those idiots,” Deon said, and continued quietly, “Then you’re free to do whatever you want.”

“Why do you care?” I asked in frustration. “Why would you care about me?”

“I don’t,” he said shortly. “I thought we had established that already.”

I shook my head. “Whatever.”

“Look. I really, really want you to understand that I do not care about you. I’ve said it countless times, but it’s still not sinking in! Tell me, what can I say to make you believe me?” he asked angrily.

“Well if you really don’t care about me, why am I here?” I snapped at him. “Why did you drag me with you? Why did you buy me the ice cream? Why are we driving around? Help me understand what the hell is going on here!”

“No,” Deon said.

“No?” I repeated.

“I don’t need to explain anything,” he said nonchalantly. “Oh, and I’m not coming to school tomorrow.”

“What? Why?” I asked and my mood dropped even lower.

“None of your business,” he said coldly.

I stared at him for a couple of seconds before I sighed heavily, and muttered, “Great.”

“Maybe you’ll learn to appreciate me while I’m gone,” Deon grunted.

I didn’t answer him. I’d get beat up again – that was for sure. Neither of us spoke in a while, and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t open his mouth anymore. I had the feeling he was trying to decide whether or not to throw me out of his car.

“Just stay hidden and you’ll be fine,” he said suddenly, breaking the icy silence.

So now he was back at being friendly again.

“I give up,” I sighed and shook my head.

“On what?” he asked.

“Trying to figure you out,” I said shortly.

“Finally!” he breathed out dramatically.

I snorted at him, but then started laughing quietly. I wasn’t even sure why I was laughing exactly, but the whole situation was so absurd that all I could do was laugh. I saw Deon looking at me with a confused frown, but I couldn’t stop laughing for long enough to explain anything.

“You’re so fucked up,” he muttered and concentrated on the road.

“So are you,” I snickered.

He gave me another short look, but then he shook his head and laughed too. By the time we reached my home, we both were laughing hysterically, and I had no idea how on earth Deon had managed to keep the car on the road.

“Why are you laughing?” I asked when he stopped the car.

“I have no fucking idea,” he chuckled and wiped tears from his cheeks. “Man, I haven’t laughed this much since… Since ever.”

I laughed a little more, but then something in his eyes caught my interest. He looked… Sad. He was rubbing his chest absentmindedly with a tired smile on his lips, and I had the feeling he was thinking about something.  

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“Huh?” he turned to look at me, and his mood turned one hundred and eighty degrees. “Nothing’s wrong. Get the fuck out of here.”

I stared at him for a moment, but he was getting angrier by the second.

“Fine, I’m going, I’m going,” I muttered and gathered my stuff. “Thanks for the ice cream.”

He didn’t reply to me, so I got out of the car and closed the door. When I turned to wave at him for goodbye, he had already hit the gas pedal, and his Mustang sped away. I let out a deep sigh and rolled my eyes. I wondered if Deon had any friends, since he really sucked at making them.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I scolded myself. “No one wants to be friends with me.”

Deon just needed me to carry his bag at school, nothing more. No, he didn’t need me – he was just having fun at my expense. He was probably going to see his friends and tell them all about how stupid I truly was, and they all would have a good laugh.

My posture dropped along with my mood, and I turned to walk to the front door. For a moment there, I really thought that Deon wanted to be my friend.

How utterly stupid I truly was.

 

*****

 

“You should die,” I told myself later that day.

I was staring at my reflection in the mirror once again, and I hated everything I saw. “You really should.”

It wasn’t enough that Beau had crushed me, and Deon had made fun of me. The principal had called my dad and told him that if I skipped another class, he would expel me for good. My father couldn’t care less about my education, but he still spent almost an hour yelling at me. At one point I thought he’d hit me, but he grabbed another beer instead.

“Your mom would be disappointed,” he’d grunted as his last words before opening the TV and letting me go to my room.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” I sniffed. “I miss you so much… I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

But I was. Everything I did, everything I tried to do… I only ended up disappointing her. She probably regretted having me.

I turned my back on the mirror and exited the bathroom. I grabbed my bag from the floor and sat down next to my desk, then took my black notebook and turned to a fresh page.

“Disappointment,” I breathed out and began writing.

I wondered if my mom hated me for being gay. I didn’t recall her ever saying bad things about anyone, but everyone thought gays were abominations, so maybe she felt the same way? How disappointed would she have been if she knew what I had become? Was she disgusted about her youngest son liking other boys?

She would’ve definitely been disappointed to hear how horrible my grades were. She would’ve been disappointed to find out I had no friends. And even if she still loved me, even though I was gay, she would’ve been disappointed with how I looked, how I dressed, how little I ate…

I let out a long breath when I was finished writing the word ‘disappointment’ on the page.

“Would you be disappointed if I killed myself now?” I asked quietly, wishing she’d answer me.

But she didn’t. She never did, and never would.

“I miss you so much,” I whispered, my sight getting blurry as the tears started rolling down on my cheeks.

I crossed my arms on the desk and rested my forehead on top of them, letting the tears fall down on my notebook. I had no idea what to do. I didn’t have the strength to carry on, but I didn’t want to die either – not really. No matter how sick and tired I was of my life, I still was stupid enough to keep trying. Maybe I was a coward, or maybe the thought of my mom kept me going. Or… Maybe I was foolish enough to still believe, after all this time, that everything would change for the better.

I heard my phone making a silent beep at some point, but I ignored it. I was too miserable to even move, but when I heard the sound for the second time, I pushed myself to sit up on the seat. I searched my phone from my bag and stared at the screen. I had two new messages.

From Beau.

I frowned and almost threw the phone away without reading the messages, but my curiosity won, and I opened the first one. Beau asked why I hadn’t come to school that day, and in the next message he said he had hoped to see me.

“No, you didn’t,” I muttered, but I felt butterflies in my stomach.

I wasn’t sure what to reply to him, or if I should say anything at all. I was done being hurt by him, but I couldn’t help but feel happy he still remembered my existence.

I hesitated for a long time before I quickly typed ‘I was sick’ and sent it to Beau. I waited for a couple of minutes for his answer, trying to decide what to tell him if he asked why I was sick, but his next text was even shorter than the others.

‘See you tomorrow?’

My first reaction was to tell him yes, but then I remembered Sabrina. Beau’s girlfriend.

‘I saw you with Sabrina today,’ I wrote, and pressed ‘send’ without giving it a second thought. I had to wait almost five minutes before he replied to me.

‘That’s complicated,’ he said without explaining.

I frowned when I read it. How could it be complicated? He was dating Sabrina, so unless he was going to dump her, there wasn’t a chance for me.

‘I’m still sick, so I can’t come to school tomorrow,’ I told him.

It technically wasn’t a lie. I didn’t care if I got expelled from school, and since Deon wasn’t going to be there either, I was better off staying home.

‘Okay,’ was Beau’s reply, and after that he didn’t send any new messages.

I put the phone away and stared into nothingness for a while. Beau’s kiss had thrown me off balance, and I had started to imagine things that would never happen. I was so damn tired of being hurt all the time. I was so tired of crying all the time. Beau’s messages had seemed cold. I couldn’t tell if he really wanted to hang out with me after all, and it made me feel sad.

I stared at the dirty floor, trying to remember what it was like to be a happy, carefree teenager. I had almost forgotten what it was like, but… not quite. I wasn’t sure why, but Beau’s coldness didn’t hurt quite as much as I had believed it would. First, I thought I’d grown a little more emotionless during the past four months. Maybe I was just getting used to being hurt.

Or maybe it had something to do with one particular jerk who had bought me my favorite ice cream just so I wouldn’t go and do something stupid.

I picked up my phone again and typed a new message.

‘Thanks for the ice cream. It really meant a lot to me.’

I put the phone down and was about to stand up, when it let out a small buzz. I picked it up and read Deon’s reply.

‘It was just ice cream.’

‘For me it was more, so thank you,’ I told him, and I didn’t need to wait long for him to answer.

‘Fine, whatever,’ the message said.

I smiled a little. Maybe ‘whatever’ was his way of saying ‘you’re welcome’. At least I liked to think that.