Gravity (2 page)

“Do you ever wear
anything else?”

“Yo! Get that
kid!”

The halls are
thinning; a sign that the second bell is about to ring.

I
turn the corner and hide in a
janitor's closet, where I once fornicated.

The bell rings
and screeching sneakers stop at the door. I hold the handle. One of
the bullies rattles the doorknob, sending their energy trickling up
my arm like an electrical current.

“Emo boy! I know
you’re in there.” One of them kicks the door. “Come out and take it
like the faggot you are.”

The handle
rattles and my grip tightens. I can’t let them in for their sake.
They don't know what will happen to them if they touch
me.

One of the teachers
voices calls out their names. The shadows under the door leave
except one.

“
I’ll get you
asshole. I’ll make you eat every single one of those psycho pills
if I see your face again. You hear me?”

Eric’s shadow
leaves and another person approaches with clacking
heels.

“Mr. Anderson, get
back here!”

The female
knocks.

“
Hello? Who’s
in there?” I let go of the knob before I feel her energy. The door
opens.

The light is
blinding
and a female figure
stands before me.

I
scurry away from the door, my back
knocks into the shelves behind me, sending bathroom paper tumbling
on my head. The teacher stares. My hands shake and my eyes water.
How many people saw? I place my hood on.

“It’s okay. You can
come out now, Mr. Black.”

Gabriel

Sitting outside
the principal’s office is like being an exotic animal at the
zoo.
For those who travel the
main halls of the school, the glass window showcases troublemakers
and their victims. The window tapping is excessive. My hood defends
me against the glares, but it's also a dead giveaway that ‘Ramones
is in trouble.’

Eric Anderson is dragged in by the female
teacher that witnessed the incident. I keep my head down and watch
her red shoes escort Eric to an adjacent chair. His long legs
indicate he’s slouching and no doubt glaring me. I peek up and see
him grinning. He’s been in this office more often than anyone at
this school. He waves humorously at the glass window and everyone
that passes gives him thumbs up or an approving smile.

“
Mr. Black. Mr.
Anderson.” The principal strokes his gray beard and lets
us into his office. “Have a
seat.”

I
keep my head low and scoots the chair
away from Eric.

“
Would one of
you care to explain the running, cussing in the halls—causing a
ruckus between periods is not permitted. Mr. Black?”

I don't utter a
sound
. There’s nothing the
principal can do for me. Anderson will only keep doing it. There’s
no point in even trying. “Mr. Black, I’m talking to
you.”

I
stare at the dust ball under the
desk. The fan in the room is moving it ever so slowly toward
principal’s foot.

“I can’t help you if
you don’t speak up, Gabriel. What’s so funny, Mr. Anderson?”

“Nothing. I didn’t
know it had a name.”

“This is twice this
month, Eric, you’ve caused a stir.”

“He’s got drugs Mr.
P, look in his bag. I bet he didn’t register them with the
nurse.”

“Eric!”

“
Look!” Eric’s
fingers point like daggers and I can feel the heat of the fingertip
at my side.

“Gabriel? Do you have
anything to say about Eric's accusation?”

The dust ball rolls
over Mr. P’s shiny black shoe and disappears out of view.

“Mr. Black, may I see
the contents of your bag?”

I place
my backpack on the desk without
hesitation. Or course there’s nothing, but school supplies; no
drugs, no meds.

“Mr. Anderson, please
wait outside.”

I
can’t find anything to focus on. The
dingy green carpet is devoid of interest.

“Gabriel, I’ll have
to check your locker. Do you understand son?”

I
nod. There’s nothing in my
locker.

“If you don’t talk to
me I can’t help you. I know Eric is up to no good, but I need to
make sure of it. What happened?”

I can't
speak
. I just can't. There's
nothing I can do.

“Fine. I’ll have to
give you both detentions on Saturday. Do you understand?”

I
nod. Detention isn’t so bad
considering where I live. At least there are vending machines and a
clean bathroom.

Mr. P sighs. “You may
go to your next class now, Mr. Black.”

I leave the
office. E
ric is outside the
door, slouching in a chair.

I wait patiently for
the receptionist to sign my late slip.

“
You’re a
faggot aren’t you? I bet that’s why you don’t play in gym. You like
watching guys.”

I don't blame
him for thinking that. Ever since I was little, kids often felt
violated by me. Playing with others caused serious questions to
arise that I was touching or making other children feel
uncomfortable, provoking fights and name calling. I didn’t
understand why other children ran away from me, why my mother
didn’t want to hold me anymore and my stepfather wanted to hold me
too much.
I know now. Eric can
see it. There’s something wrong with me.
I accept it.

The
receptionist signs me out and
I walk pass Eric.

I
shut the door behind me, but Eric’s
last words slip through.

“Why don’t you just
die already?”

I've thought
about it. It would be
better
for everyone if I was dead. It's not like I make a difference on
this planet. I barely exist now.

The empty halls give some relief—no one is
around to witness my release. I enjoy the distinct sound my
sneakers make on the waxed floor. The free space will soon be
invaded when the next bell rings. For now I’ll take my precious
time to enjoy the lovely silence the school brings between
classes.

I exit the
school. I
'll skip the next few
periods before lunch. There's no way I'll enter in the middle of
class. I make my way to my usual spot on school grounds. The
outside provides the space I need rather than sitting in the
crowded cafeteria. The school has a low concrete wall surrounding
it where student’s hangout on during lunchtime. I choose to hide
behind it rather than sit on top like I usually do. I'm not taking
any chances if Eric or his friends spot me.

I
used to sit alone, but
recently I sit with my only friend,
Joshua Masterson. Josh is considered new to the school. I had only
known him for two months, which is a miracle in my book. I've never
had a friend this long since elementary school. After a while,
people stay away. Their assumptions about me are based on fear when
they’ve gotten too close. Their colorful gossip created the
reputation I ha
ve
now. It’s not their
fault I'm strange. I lure accidently. They want to run away,
because it's disturbing the way I make them feel. Ever since I can
remember, I've always had th
is
effect on
people. With Josh, I have nothing to worry about because he keeps a
safe distance.

With my back to
the wall, I drop my backpack and let my feet slide forward until
the earth meets my jeans. Facing the parking lot, I think how Eric
and his goons were so close to touching me. Touch would've made
them helplessly attracted to me or disgusted in themselves for what
I make them feel. The problem is I don't like losing control when I
touch someone. My body wants to take advantage of the sexual
opportunity, as if a primitive instinct kicks on. Trying to find
the will to stop is very hard. I've found myself in situations so
shameful I can’t bear to look at the faces in the halls anymore.
Being cornered, felt-up, kissed, groped, beat-up, tied down and
worse—raped; all because of their curiosity or obsession from a
simple touch or standing too close for too long. No matter how good
it feels, the guilt is all I'm left with afterwards.

I can't imagine what would have happened if
Eric had gotten his hands on me. I've worked so hard to avoid
situations like this but here I am worrying: What will happen after
lunch? What will happen in P.E.? What about tomorrow? I can't sit
out classes forever.

The bell sounds waking me from my daze.
Students with the privilege to leave school grounds for lunch pour
out of the school. I envy anyone with a car to escape. Cutting
classes for the rest of the day doesn’t seem like a bad idea, but
there’s always tomorrow. Where will I go anyway? Not home.

“Please don’t tell me
the rumor about you is true?”

“
Which one?” I
look up above my head. Josh is hanging over the wall with his
blonde hair falling over his eyes.

“What do mean which
one?”

I
close my eyes.
“Which—one?”

“
The new one,
what do you think? Everyone said they saw you at the principal’s. I
suppose you’re hiding from Anderson. I think he’s still getting an
ear full.” The sun hits Josh's blue eyes as he scans the
surroundings. “
His
gang u
sually
leave
s for
lunch.
” Josh climbs over the
wall and drops besides me. “So you’re safe for now.”

It’s never safe.

The clean smell
of detergent wafts into
my
nose reminding me that I'm the dirty version of Josh. We're
similarly dressed; black jeans, skate sneakers, but Josh’s clothes
are new; not borrowed. Josh’s
punk tee
is made
to look old. All of my shirts are traded in at the thrift shop.
Like me, he's labeled a loner, but he's friendly and doesn’t shy
away from simple hellos and handing pens to pretty girls. We're
more or less invisible to everyone which is what I prefer. We’re
content on our own, but we have each other when we want company.
It’s a low maintenance friendship I'm grateful to have.

We
had first met at the local bookstore.
Josh had approached me while reading comics and found we had that
in common. I'm always polite to strangers outside of school. I
welcomed the friendly conversation thinking I'll never see him
again until meeting happened regularly at the store. I didn’t want
to come off as rude when keeping my distance. I had told Josh I
have haphephobia; a fear of touching. I assume it’s enough to deter
any questions on my odd behavior. Josh didn't ask questions. He
simply accepted the half lie.

Josh knows the
rumors about
me, like I'm a
vampire, gay, homeless, or that I'm mental and on meds. Hanging out
with me will only bring down his reputation from new kid to
Ramones' homo boyfriend. Josh doesn't seem to care what anyone
thinks of him. I wish I was strong like him. He doesn't judge; he
just hangs out and talks without a worry in the world.

“So what happened?” Josh
reaches into his pack for lunch. The brown paper bag triggers my
stomach to growl.

“
Does it
matter? All he had to do wa
s
look at me and I’ve been marked for termination.”

“He’ll get bored.
They always do.”

“It’ll only get
worse.”

“Look on the bright
side. You’re a ghost. They’ll have to catch you first, right?”

“
They nearly
did.” I watch a group of girls pile into a red car. “I can just sit
here all day.”

“
You can. I’ll
let you borrow my iPod. I added The Clash.” Josh tears open a bag
of chips and offers some. I stare at the bag with Josh’s fingers
wrapped around it. Is he kidding?

“
I can’t. I
have a test in Bio.” I eye the bag as Josh sets it down and unwraps
his lunch.

“You’re worried about
Anderson. Fuck’em. I think he’s on his last strike. It won’t be
long before he’s suspended.”

“
There are
other Andersons.” I shift uncomfortably.

“Nah, you’re like a
ninja. Swiftly making your way through the halls, no one ever sees
you. You can’t catch a ninja. You just need those metal stars.”

“Throwing stars.”

“Yeah, so you can cut
Anderson into shreds. Leave a scar on that mug of his.”

“
Mortally wound
him.” I take a chip and throw it into my mouth.

“Black Shinobi. I’ll
be your sensei.”

“
Master
Jah-Sho-Wa.” I laugh.

Josh has a way
of making me
feel better even
if he's wrong. I can never escape people, because people bring rise
to my burden. Joshua Masterson is different. He’s the best part of
my life, the only person I feel comfortable with. But even getting
comfortable is dangerous.

The corners of
my smile drop at the thought of losing him as friend. Having gone
through so many friends in the past, I know if I'm not careful,
Josh will want nothing to do with me, or worse—he’ll want
everything to do with me.

“Eat,
Gabriel-san.”

My
mouth waters as Josh splits the
sandwich his mother has made for him. Josh places it on a napkin in
the space between us, allowing me to pick it up. I'm grateful
because most days I have no money for lunch or no lunch at
all.