The second session in the principal's office was longer than the first. She gave me a long speech about how they had zero tolerance for bullying in that school (which didn't seem like it to me) and that she had known my mother for many years, and this time she'll make an exception, but be careful what you do.

She let me go with a look that said I already know that you and I will be seeing each other often. She said she wasn’t going to punish me this time, but the fact that she was sending me to afternoon class  was already a punishment in itself, wasn't it?

I was stopped several times in the hallway. Two girls wanted to shake my hand, one left me her number. I had said they would know me for much more than being the kidnapped boy in there.

I kept the girl's number, maybe she would be my source for quiz answers.

Not even Jeremy had anything to say. I sat next to him in an almost empty classroom. I could tell he wanted to scold me, just to be consistent with his principles, but from the way he was smiling, Icould also tell he enjoyed seeing the guy getting meatballed.

"What do we do now?"

"There are two hours of math tutoring. Then we can take the van home."

Two more hours... I couldn't handle it. I couldn't...

Oh?

The math teacher had entered the classroom. And, after wiping off the sauce, I could only do one thing at that point. I pulled out my phone.

- - - 

Group chat: Junkies

Picture sent.

Someone is going to get fucked. 

Philly Lilly: You are already back to school? ahajhajahajhaha WHAT A LOSER!!

Simon 8====D: What a hunk! 

Simon 8====D: Can you introduce us?

- - - 

I slumped onto Jeremy. "How many extra lessons did you say we have to do with him?"

"I do them every day. But it's not mandatory. You only do them if you need to."

"Oh, I need lots of extra lessons. I need to be taught over and over again..."

And I wasn't the only one apparently. Judging by how the girls in the front row were fluttering their eyes, and how the guy in the back row kept popping gum and licking it off his lips with his tongue.

Seems like Jeremy was the only good kid actually there for the extra lessons. He raised his hand every two seconds. Asked questions.

HE WAS MONOPOLIZING THE TEACHER.

"I'm not quite sure how to solve this exercise."

"I'M ALSO NOT QUITE SURE HOW TO SOLVE THIS EXERCISE!"

The teacher turned to me in surprise. "Um, wait a moment, Jeremy. I'll help your brother."

Here, help me. Come over here with your Henry Cavill jawline.

"What don't you understand?"

Uh. I didn't understand anything because I'd been doing nothing but staring at his ass since he walked in.

"Um... well... the fractions...?"

He let out this Uh, deeper than the Mariana Trench, and said, "Do you want to try one together?"

Oh, we'll try lots of things together, Professor Anderson.

"I'll explain them to him, sir. Don't worry." And the magic broke. The angel turned to Jeremy, glanced at both of us, nodded, then moved on to the next desk.

Here, this will be what the police will write in the 'cause of death' box when they find his body.

The little bastard had the nerve to shoot me a dirty look. "What are you doing?"

"What am I doing? What are you doing!"

"I'm taking my extra lessons seriously, Drake. You're just clowning around."

Then he spent the next ten minutes actually explaining fractions to me. The bastard.

...

Two hours later, the bus had brought us back to the house of horrors. The two lunatics hadn't returned yet, so I was free to drag myself upstairs to my room (which was on the fucking last floor).

Jeremy slipped into his room and closed the door. He was still mad at me for goofing around with the teacher. What an exaggeration.

I opened my bedroom door, ready to wade through the sea of wrapping paper and ribbons; what I found instead was a pristine room, every scrap of paper gone, and the few gifts I hadn't opened yet were stacked neatly in a corner.

Someone had even made the bed.

I flopped onto the covers and grabbed my phone.

– - -

Chat with: Clone

The Tooth Fairy cleaned my room?

the cleaning lady comes in the morning when no one’s here.

She touches my bedsheets? Gross. 

What if I come?

What if you come?

I don’t understand

Nevermind

Don’t answer that

Just leave a note if you don’t want her to touch something. 

- - - 

So I left a note with a penis inside a warning sign that said “DANGER!! DO NOT TOUCH THE BED!!”

- - -

Chat with: Clone

Picture sent

Like this?

- - -

At that point Jeremy stopped responding, and I started to get bored.

By now, Simon and Phil must have gone to see Dickhead to get some stuff. Maybe I wasn't bothering them too much.

I called Phil, since he was usually the sober one.

"Hey, asshole."

"Hey."

"How's it going up there?"

Not great. Maybe I had made a big mistake by agreeing to come. These people had nothing to do with me; they would never understand me, they would never accept me for who I was. And no one wanted to let me talk to my dad.

"You saw the picture, right? I told you Canadian asses don't compete."

"D!" Simon took Phil's phone. "We're smoking some crazy stuff!"

Without me. Okay.

"Get off, Simon! What the fuck... give me back the phone. Drake, are you still there?"

"Mh."

"Listen, the owner of Kendy’s asked if we're planning to do more concerts. I told him no."

"What?? Fuck, Phil, are we a band of three or not? Why didn't you call me before telling him something?"

"Because you're up there, what difference does it make? And besides, you have to admit, D., we're not that good. None of us three has the voice to sing, and then we'll be off to college soon... it doesn't make much sense to continue, does it?"

"We can find a singer, I told you! And what college nonsense are you talking about? They only passed you to avoid seeing your pimply faces at the makeup exams?!"

Instead of answering me, Phil muttered something that sounded like "I told you he would react like this."

Simon got back on the receiver. "Drake, listen..." He sounded unsure. I bet those two fuckers hadn't even gone to school, they'd been high since that morning.

"The band thing was fun, but..."

It was fun?

"...we need to think about... think about, uh, about our fu... future. Yeah. Future. I'll study law."

Okay, if they were going to screw with me, then screw them.

"You want to study law? You need to look at your fucking toes to count to twenty!"

"Aw, come on, D., don't get so pissy!"

I hung up on him. Screw them too. Screw everyone.

Screw the cleaning lady who made my bed. I got up and pulled the covers off. I threw them on the floor and messed up the sheets. There. That's how I liked the bed. That's how it should be.

I staggered around that unfamiliar room looking for something that made sense.

My guitar lay in a corner in its case. I reached it immediately; it pulled me like a magnet.

I undressed it and held it in my arms.

Those two assholes wanted to screw up our band. I hadn't even been gone for two days and they already wanted to quit.

I ran my thumb over the strings. I didn't even have an amplifier. My baby was silent.

I wanted to play, but all I could do was try a few chords, squeezed into that cold corner of an unfamiliar room.

When I was sad, my dad used to play November Rain for me.

He didn't have the voice to sing it, but he tried anyway.

I didn't have the voice to sing it either. But I tried anyway.