I make my way slowly up the third floor stairwell, reaching the bathroom a few minutes before the bell. So much for sleeping today. I push the door open a crack and call out, “Melissa?” Silence. I clear my throat.

“Uh, ladies?” I wait a moment ,settling myself against the doorjamb before continuing, “Apparently, the new girl – Melissa?- is in here crying cause, uh, surprise, Duncan’s a dick.

I pause again, listening closely for any little sound. Nothing. I sigh and rub my face, using my foot to prop open the door. I’m such a fuckin’ idiot… I put my hand back on the door and stand straight. Licking my lips and swallowing the lump in my throat, I continue my monologue with the silent bathroom.

“Um, heh, Melissa?” Despite my nervous chuckle, I can hear the strain in my own voice; climbing to an almost hysterical pitch, and I curse myself. What the shit am I doing here? “If yer in here, I kinda really need ya t’say somethin’, cause I dunno if I c’n do this twice.”

A few incredibly long heartbeats later, a timid voice, muffled from crying, answers from inside, echoing slightly, “Yeah, I’m in here, Duncan.”

I realize I’m grinding my teeth and forcibly relax my jaw. I can’t help envisioning a group of Letti’s cheerleader friends crouched inside the bathroom, and I quickly banish the image as I call out, “I’m comin’ in, okay?” I wait for her small, “Okay” before stepping slowly inside and gently letting the door close. Scanning the bathroom, I recognize Melissa’s shoes inside the handicapped bathroom at the very farthest end of the bathroom, past the sinks and all the other stalls. Stalls where vicious little cheerleaders could crouch on the toilets. Stalls that lined both sides of the room, stalls that surrounded me…

I shake my head and lock the door softly, praying I was making the right choice; that Melissa really was alone. Forcing myself not to think that I might very well have locked myself in with a group of psychotically violent girls, I grit my teeth and force my feet to take me toward that last stall, every muscle tensed to flee.

Making it safely to the far wall, I put my back against the against it with Melissa in the stall to my right, straining my ears for any little movement from the other stalls. Sniffling and the occasional hiccup were the only sounds to break the silence, and I grimaced and slid down the wall to rest in a crouch and buried my face in my hands.

“Jus’…Stop it,” I tell her, my voice muffled by my palms, “Please,” I rasp, my throat constricted by regret and the shame of old memories that flood my mind at the sound of her trying to quiet her sobs. “Stop cryin’.”

There’s a few more sniffles, then: “I’m t-trying to stop, b-but,” A larger sniffle, “I d-don’t think I c-can. I’m s-sorry.” A few more hiccups followed this statement.

A flash of memory of a little boy cowering on the floor, broken vase by his side, stabs through my mind. “Fuckin’ damnit,” I mutter into my hands. Sighing, I lean my head against the wall. All thoughts of ambush were gone, shame at what I’d done replacing the aprehension I had felt completely. “Don’t apologize to me, damnit,” I pause, trying to figure out what to say next. I wracked my brain for a minute, then gave up.

“Melissa, I have no fuckin’ clue what I’m supposed to do here. I’ve neva’ done this shit before.” I grinned ruefully, “I mean, if you’d jus’ told me off, er thrown yer lunch at my head, er jus’ punched me in the face… That, I can handle. This…” I shook my head and sighed, “I don’t know what t’do wit’ this.”

Melissa didn’t say anything, and after listening to her cry, my chest compressing with every sob, I continued, “Lookit. You don’t wanna fuckin’ be friends wit’ me.” I give a mirthless chuckle, “Trust me. I’m a piecea’ shit, ask anybody.” I frown, trying to think how to best phrase what I’m going to say next, “I guess I forgot ya were new, so ya don’t know that yet…”

Melissa still won’t say anything, and her crying is wearing away at me. “I mean, why the hell ya wanna be friend wit me for, anyway? I’m a asshole. I’m a fuckin’ burned-out piece of shit.” I lower my head to stare at my hands, folded in my lap and finish softly, “You don’t wanna be friends wit’ that.”

Melissa has stopped hiccuping now, but I’m sure from her occasional sniffles that she’s still crying. I sigh and fix my gaze on the vanity wall that separates the stalls from the sinks, and repress the urge to slam my fist into something.

“So, anyway, I guess that’s it. Sorry I made ya’ cry. I’ll see ya’ ‘round.” I sigh again and start to stand.

“Duncan? …don’t go yet.”

The lock on stall slides open, and my palms start to sweat. I force myself to remain where I am, reminding myself that it’s just the two of us in the bathroom. Melissa emerges from the stall, puffy-eyed and red-nosed, and settles herself next to me. I shift uncomfortably, all too aware that I’m trapped between her and the stall, and reassure myself that it’s just the two of us, and she’s tiny… I register Melissa’s voice and pull my gaze from the door to my lap and focus hard on what she’s saying.

“…this is new to me, too, Duncan. I’ve never had anybody ever tell me they didn’t want to be friends with me because they didn’t think they were worth it…” (That’s not what I said!) “I just think you should let me form my own opinion of you, and not assume it’ll be the same as everybody else’s, you know?”

I feel my restraint break and look at her with what I know are pleading eyes, hating that my heart is in my throat as I ask quietly, “Why d’you wanna be friends wit’ me anyway?”

As she holds my gaze with her own, Melissa’s eyes glitter with left-over tears. “I’m new,” she says simply. “I’m scared of trying to fit in with everybody here... Everybody already has their own groups, their own places…” She switches her gaze to her knees, her voice lowering to a whisper, “I’m just the new girl.” A tear drops with these words, and I wish she’d just punch me.

“You’re the only person I’ve met so far that hasn’t looked at me like you’re sizing me up, trying to figure out if I’m good enough for you to let into your group. And then when you said you didn’t have any friends either I figured…” She trails off into silence, tears falling freely down her cheeks now.

I’m alarmed to feel my own eyes burn with unshed tears and angrily blink them back. They make my voice harsher than I mean it to be, “God, stop. Jus’, please, I’ll be yer fuckin’ friend. Jus’, please stop fuckin’ crying.”

Melissa looks at me, her eyes shimmering, and manages a shy smile. “Really? You mean it?”

I resist the urge to shake her. “Yeah.”

She stands up abruptly, wiping her face with her hands and missing my flinch. She checks her watch and gasps. Moving to get her bag from the stall, she says, “Class started like ten minutes ago! I didn’t even hear the bell!” She stops in front of me and offers me her hand, “We better get to class.” I let her pull me up, grimacing as she tugs a bit too enthusiastically. She shouldered her bag and moved for the door. The locked door!

“Hey, Melissa, wait up,” I call as I pace her to the door, then step past her and open it with a flourish that hides my unlocking of it. Holding it open, I nod at her. “Afta’ you.”

I think it was the cocky little smirk I had plastered on my face that made the sentence sound a lot creepier than it really was, at least to the ears of the vice principal standing on the other side of the door.