Dear readers,
First of all, I want to stress that if you haven't read up to chapter eighteen of 'Distorted' then this will not make sense at all, so, if you're interested and you haven't read it, then go do that first! So this fic was requested by Chrisch, and I really wasn't expecting it to turn out like this at all. My first intention was to write the perspective of someone seriously homophoic, but that didn't quite pan out exactly, and then I was trying to write someone sort of "normal", but I'm not sure that I did that either because once I really got into Charlie's head and started writing him properly, he sort of took his story in his own way. Also, I feel like I should give the warning that there's quite a lot of offensive language in this. Either way, I'd be very interested to hear what you think of this, and I hope that you enjoy the story.
Sopphires.
"It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities." ― J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets
Max threw the Football into the air, and Charlie watched it spin around before he caught it again. Charlie arched his eyebrow at him, demanding to know why the best hockey player in the school – their top-scorer-in-the-league captain – was throwing around a Football, and he smirked in response before tossing the ball back into the air. Charlie gave him a half glower and then looked back at the French homework lying on the table before him.
Fuck it! Who gave a shit about some frog-eating country in Europe? Anyone that didn't learn to speak English was an idiot so why bother wasting my time on their language?
Charlie viciously tore the page out of his notebook and balled it up, screwing up his face and chucking it Jack's head. Jack looked up from his crude scribbles of girls that he had been making and gave Charlie the finger, scowling.
"Oh, look who it is." Charlie twisted his head around at Max's words and looked at the New Directions as they filed into the courtyard. Charlie pulled a face at the sight of them and joined in the jeering that had erupted. Like basically everyone else at McKinley, Charlie really disliked them because they were this bunch of misfits that ran around and sung and danced and were just annoying, and people had treated them like heroes at the beginning of the year because they'd won Nationals. That had basically made sense, but it only lasted a little bit before everyone was calling them losers again – now that made better sense.
Charlie hated the way they strutted around the school like they owned the place because they were losers. Just looking at them was enough to tell anyone that. Looking at them made him want to grate his teeth because who were they? Why did they think that they were something special and better and above all the rest of them? At first it had been this "we won Nationals so you have to respect us" thing, but when that had worn off they had walked around with this moral superiority in their steps. They were really asking for everything they got, and then they crashed out at Sectionals because one of them had fainted on them and like the girls that they were they had all wittered around and gone off stage and lost…to bunch of prep schoolers at that; God Charlie – like everyone – hated them prep boys even more.
Charlie joined in harassing them all, but he, along with the rest of the Hockey team, probably went after the one that dressed like a girl more than the others because – come on – that was just so wrong. It was worse than the faggot, but he'd run off to the pansy prep school so they didn't have to worry about his fairy dust anymore. It was just him. What the hell was with his desire to push himself around in their faces? He should know that he was completely disgusting and wrong ought to be locked away in some insane asylum or something. It was just gross, and he had to be kept away from other people. He would probably turn other people into whatever the hell he was if something wasn't done about it.
Charlie watched, along with most of the others, as Finn Hudson got up on the steps and began to shout for quiet. He glared at him with poorly concealed dislike because he had been a great Football player, or so they said, and he'd just fucked it all up by deciding to prance around with a bunch of losers. That's what you got for being an idiot and hanging out with people that were obviously not going anywhere. For crying out loud, he was teaching the Glee club at McKinley; you didn't get much more pathetic than that!
"Hey!" he yelled as loud as he could. "Listen up!" Quiet fell, but everyone knew that only so that everyone could mock him for whatever came out of his mouth. "I know that you think that we're the losers of this school-"
"Think," said Max, snorting loudly. "try know!" Charlie snickered along with the other Hockey players sitting around their bench.
"So true," he said, not bothering to lower his voice at all because the easiest way to maintain popularity was to take the piss out of the losers.
"-but we've got something to say to you, and you're gonna listen whether you want to or not!" Charlie rolled his eyes towards the sky along with most of the others around him because hadn't he worked out that they were all listening so that they could ridicule them? He was just giving them ways to torture him. He was so fucking stupid it was unreal!
Finn smirked down at them once as the backing track of some song began to play through the grounds. Charlie rolled his eyes, letting out a long groan, along with everyone else, because that was what this was? They were just going to sing at them? God, talk about old news! Did they seriously think that anybody took that stupid singing thing seriously? Who gave a crap what came out of their mouth?
Then, out of nowhere, one of those poncey prep boy came striding out onto the steps. Charlie felt his brow dip slightly because what the fuck? Those guys were totally their enemy! They'd friggin' beaten the Glee club! Why the fuck was one of them standing at the top of their stairs? They should be delighted that they sucked. Man, all these people were so screwed up!
Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the song of angry men?
This is the music of a people
Who will not be slaves again!
Charlie scrunched up his face in confusion as he stared up at the tall guy on the steps. What the hell was he doing there? Why was he singing about pissed off people and slaves? And why was he asking them if they could hear the "people sing" because – duh – they could hear him; it would be kind of hard not to. And, seriously, why was he here? It was freezing cold, and no one liked him so he should just beat it before they all attacked him. Except Charlie didn't exactly feel like leading the charge against him, and he could tell none of the others did either…well, not until they worked out what he wanted, right? Then they'd be on him.
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!
Also, it was really unnerving how confident that guy was. How could he just walk into their school and be completely at ease? Charlie couldn't get why he was glaring at them in a manner that challenged them when it was obvious that they were stronger than him and could beat him to a pulp. Except that they weren't. He looked around at the other Hockey players and saw that they looked about unbalanced as he felt. That was why they weren't beating him up – it was wrong, but something about his presence made him untouchable. He exuded "you can't hurt me" vibes onto them, and Charlie, though he'd never admit it, he believed him.
Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Then the faggot – the one who had run off because he was so strong like that – appeared by his side and put an arm around his waist. Charlie clenched his jaw at the sight – it was just so wrong – and he really wanted someone to stand up and shout that; lead a charge, but no one did. He got that, though, because this was uncharted territory; unscripted; and they didn't know how to react. Those guys were imbeciles, but they probably were smart enough to get them caught if they attacked them; they weren't from this school, the rules were different.
Then join in the fight
That will give you the right to be free!
And another friggin' one appeared! He went to the tall boy's other side, and the tall guy wrapped an arm around his shoulder, and Charlie was pleased to see that he looked intimidated and freaked out because they had made a giant fucking mistake in coming to their school. And they were going to make him pay for whatever he was about to do because he was going to do something, and then they would leap at them and tear into them and it would all be normal…right?
Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the song of angry men?…
And then, and then, a whole freakin' hoard of them appeared…like hundreds. It had to be their entire fucking, stick-up-their-arse, we're-better-than-you-because-daddy's-rich school. They were all here. Holy shit! They were so screwed! These guys were totally going to beat them up because of what they'd done to that- was he a fag? Either way, they were gay-pride supporters, and they were going to kick their arses because that son-of-a-bitch had squealed. Charlie wanted to clench his hands into fists and glower at the back at the boy who was totally going to end their lives and would pay for it, but he was frozen from terror instead. There was simply a never-ending stream of boys, all wearing the same blazer and all holding banners, and how could there be that many people that were so dumb and thought that that was natural and not disgusting? And why were they all singing? It didn't make sense! There just- why were they fucking singing? It didn't make sense!
Will you give all you can give
So that our banner may advance?…
And how were there more of them? That was the initial thought that went flying through Charlie's mind as two more boys – one dark haired who was singing, and another one that was blonde – came down the steps. His mind discarded that ideo pretty quickly, and the fact that they had their arms around each other and so were definitely gay, and the meaning of what the meaning of their banners said, began to sink in. They said- they said that they were all gay, and they implied, just because they knew the truth and that it was sick and wrong, that they weren't human.
The blood of the martyrs
Will water the meadows of France!
Then, after the blonde had finished singing, the black haired one grabbed him and kissed him full on. Charlie felt his fingernails dig into his palms because this was not happening. This was their schoolyard, and stuff like that didn't happen. Those guys were going to pay for their insults, and Charlie was going to beat their brains in for that…when the Hockey team were behind him.
Do you hear the people sing?...
Charlie felt his stomach lurch as the crowds began to move again, not because of any the banners or people, but because Mandy was in the crowd now! There were McKinley students mingling in with them because they were all fucking idiots, but his sister – his little sister – was there too. And – fuck – Max, Jack, Tom, Ryan…They could all see her. Charlie was so not driving her back today. She could walk home for all he cared. He didn't give a damn if her fingers went blue from her stupid, fingerless gloves – the fuck was the point of them? – because he was never going to be able to live down the fact that his sister was marauding with losers, and freaks, and fags, and just- this was not happening. First, the faggy, prep boys had invaded their territory, secondly, they were too cowardly to take them on in a fair fight so they'd brought the whole – fucking – school so that they couldn't do anything, and then, his little sister dancing around with them and flaunting herself in support of them! Why couldn't there be hockey today? He needed to release his anger in an aggressive, rough and tumble game whilst he whacked people in the shins and swore to his heart's content.
The roars of all the prep boys – and the McKinley students that had joined in; Mandy – filled the courtyard, and Charlie took a deep breath in and thought of all the torture he could subject his little sister to…without their dad or Simon finding out. God forbid that Simon caught wind of him fighting with Mandy over something like this. He would never hear the end of it, but…he looked at the tightly wound Hockey players and reckoned that he would rather have Simon to deal with opposed to them. Jack opened his mouth to say something, hopefully insulting and not to do with Mandy, but Tom cleared his throat and pointed up at the boys on the steps. Charlie looked back and saw that the tall guy that had started the singing signally for silence that came.
"Let this be a lesson for all of you," he said in a voice that was too confident. He couldn't walk in here and be that self-assured; that was wrong. "We haven't come in to beat you all up, though we certainly could if we wanted to, we've come here to make a point; that you can't just push us around and get nothing back, and you do not have the right to threaten other people because you don't like something about them. Do you really think that it is anyway reasonable to threaten somebody's life because they are wearing a dress? Think about this; to make a death threat is illegal. You've physically assaulted someone and threatened their life, how lenient do you think anyone is going to be?" There was a still silence. Charlie could barely breathe. "Oh, and a heads up, my dad is state attorney."
Charlie stared up at the son of the state attorney and felt something plummet inside of him. Were they going to get arrested for what they'd done? Oh God, no! This couldn't be happening. He couldn't be arrested not for something, and he would never admit this even if it would save his life, that sounded so pointless and trivial when phrased like that. Charlie could genuinely see his future self-destructing before him. Even if they didn't get convicted, those guys would totally beat them up – Charlie would also never admit that he was terrified of them because he could see they meant business – if they didn't lay off the freak, but if he did that then the hockey team would ruin his life. And Mandy was a bitch, and she'd probably go blabbing to mum and dad about this, and they'd be pissed what with everything that happened to Alice, and then he was just even deader.
"Come on," said Max, getting to his feet, and Charlie pushed himself away from the table with the others, glancing over his shoulder to glare at Mandy as she laughed with her bitchy friends some way off. Mandy narrowed her eyes in return, and Charlie gave her the finger before turning back to his friends.
"The fuck was that?" demanded Alex, running a hand through his quiff and looking around surreptitiously to make sure that none of those arseholes were following them."
"It's obviously a hands off the freak," snapped Ryan, glaring at Alex for being so dumb even though Ryan could barely add two and two. "What do we do, Max?" Charlie looked at their leader and saw him brooding it over. Max was the only one that was allowed to be smart because he was a good tactician, and for that Charlie was glad because they needed some plan to fight back – if they did nothing they'd be weak.
"I say that we call their bluff," said Max, nodding in an assured manner that Charlie was glad for because it felt like their foundations had been rattled by that appearance. All hierarchy had been thrown out of the window, and Charlie couldn't escape the nagging part of his mind that said that what the tall guy had said made sense. He didn't need any more doubts. "we give them a day or two to suss out how serious they are, then we make our move."
Charlie swallowed and glanced around the circle of hockey players. He could see that some of them weren't convinced; he could see that Alex wanted to run off and pound people, others were clearly on the fence; Jack had an intense look on his face like he couldn't make up his mind about something, and the rest were fully behind Max because Max was their leader; Ryan was nodding with a convinced expression on his face. Charlie wasn't sure where he fell. He supposed that he was on the fence with Jack because he still felt uncomfortable about the situation, but he liked that Max had taken charge and laid down their plans: it took the pressure off his shoulders to do anything.
"Lessons," said Max as the bell went. "got to keep our noses clean, remember?" There were nods, and Charlie made to move over to Jack's side so that they could go to French together. "And Charlie," Charlie froze, knowing that this was about his sister. He turned around, pushing all his uncertainties down inside him because indecision was one the worst things he could do – and there was a seriously long list of bad things that he could do. "get your sister in line; we've given her a free pass, but if she's going to side with the freaks…"
Charlie bit down on the inside of his lip and nodded succinctly because he didn't need that threat to be said out loud. He hated his little sister with all his guts – well, not Alice obviously, but Mandy – but if he didn't want her to be bullied. Besides, it wasn't even that, not really. He just knew that if she got bullied by the hockey team then his dad would definitely blow his stack, and he freaking out about Charlie's grades – what the hell was wrong with Cs? – enough as it was. He'd probably be grounded, have his pocket money suspended and, God forbid, stripped of his hockey privilege. He needed hockey; hockey had to be his life otherwise he was sunk.
"Don't worry," he said with all the false bravado that he could muster. "I'll get sense into her." Max nodded, smirk appearing on his face as he clapped a hand down onto Ryan and Tom's shoulders, beginning to guide them down the hallway, and Charlie fell into step by Jack's side. The atmosphere between them as tense and awkward – Charlie was freaking out of his mind because he could still see everything blowing up in his face – until a crowd of cheerleaders went past, and Jack raised his hands to his lips, letting out a long wolf-whistle. The girls looked round, smiles appearing on their faces and breaking out into giggles, and Charlie found himself laughing too, even though there was a part of his mind that was jumping up and down to get his attention and demanding to know why that was funny because he just didn't – fucking – know.
"Hey, Charlie!" Charlie glared at his little sister and slammed the door shut, locking it so that she couldn't get in. Mandy grabbed the door handle and wrenched on it, trying to get it open. Then she directed a bitch glare at him, banging on the passenger window. Charlie waited until the smirk was firm on his face before he rolled down the window.
"Hey sis, what could you possibly be in need of?" Mandy's glare intensified, but Charlie felt better already. He'd had a crap day, and this was exactly what he needed to make himself feel better.
"Stop fucking around, Charlie, and open the goddamn door." Charlie smirked at his little sister and shook his head in a superior manner.
"No, I don't think so. You humiliated me in front of the entire – fucking – school. You can walk home today."
"I'll tell dad," came the childish response, and Charlie rolled his eyes because did she honestly think that that threat frightened him anymore.
"Oh, I'm so terrified," he mocked. "What will I do?"
"Never play hockey again," she retorted, cockily, but Charlie didn't buy it. His dad only had her word against his. His dad might be more pissed with him than Mandy, but Mandy was still in the bad books.
"Yeah, and you think that he's going to take a druggie's words over the hockey player's?" He watched his sister's face transition into one of anger and annoyance.
"One mistake, bastard, at least I'm not a selfish, stupid, hypocritical jerk!" Charlie rolled his eyes because that was the most pathetic insult he'd heard in a long time, and he'd heard some pretty crap ones. Rolling up the window with a smug grin, he turned on the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot, leaving his sister swearing at him in the freezing cold. God that felt good!
He turned on the radio and cranked up the volume, smiling as Flo Rida came pounding out of the speakers, glad that – for once – no one was there bitching about his music taste or how loud his music was. For once his car was really his own. He felt better than he had done in ages. Today didn't matter. His stupid doubts were just stupid. Tomorrow no one would even care about this at all. It would all be over. It would just be a story after that. A pointless memory. They'd gone like before. He felt confident of that. Max would have a plan. He didn't do the thinking. That was definitely a good thing.
The drive felt quicker without his little sister yapping away to her friends – he was totally going to score with at least two of them 'cause they were sluts, but hot sluts nonetheless – and he didn't have to listen to her squealing, or bitching, or just her voice in general because her voice was an awful thing to hear. God, he'd rather listen to Simon babbling about…shit then listen to the sound of Mandy's voice.
He pulled the car into the driveway and was pleased to see that his mum wasn't back yet. That was good. She'd blow her stack if she found out that he'd left Mandy at school, dad was too busy with Alice and Simon to go berserk. He got out, slinging his backpack onto his shoulder and locking the car behind him, and swaggered towards the front door, opening it and shouting out a greeting to his dad. He got silence back in return and rolled his eyes in annoyance and then;
"Don't shout in the house, Charlie, and shut the door." Charlie rolled his eyes and kicked it closed behind him. "Don't kick it!" Charlie rolled his eyes once more and let his backpack fall onto the floor, walking through to the front room. Simon was curled into a ball on the sofa, book in his hands, and Alice and his dad were sat on the floor, colourful book lying open. His dad jerked his head at Simon, and Charlie rolled his eyes again and sat down by his little brother.
"How was school?" he asked, and Simon turned the page.
"There are werewolves in the world," said Simon in an informative tone of voice. "Apparently the easiest way to kill them is with a silver knife, but I think that it would be better if you were to tame them. Everyone has an animal inside of them, and it can be tamed. I see no reason why this is different." Charlie pressed his lips together and tried hard not to laugh.
"Um," he said because two years of doing this did not make it any easier to talk to his little brother. Man, he wished Kevin was still here. "that's great, Simon. Why don't you do your homework and then think about werewolves?"
"I did my homework on the school bus. It was easy." Charlie nodded, not sure what to say next.
"Awesome. I'm going to go do my homework, dad." His dad looked up at him, eyes narrowing for a second at his willingness to do work, but then became distracted as Alice turned the page of the book and began to point at the picture of the animal, annoyed that her routine had been disturbed,
"Moo, daddy!" she said, frown on face, jabbing her finger at the picture. "Moo!"
"Yes dear, why don't you draw that?"
"Did!" she said, and Charlie took the opportunity to dart from the room whilst his dad was distracted by his sister. He was glad that his dad hadn't noticed that Mandy wasn't there. He had dodged one hell of a bullet with that. Sometimes, his messed up siblings were useful. Very, very occasionally.
He snatched his bag from the hallway and stomped up the stairs. He could hear his dad's scolding in his ears, but he didn't care. Just once in a while he would like to be able to do things his own way. He couldn't make loud noises because of Alice. He couldn't swear because of Alice and Simon. He couldn't go out and see his friends because he had look over Alice, Simon and Mandy because his parents needed six pairs of hands. He couldn't do what he wanted because Kevin had left. Man, he couldn't wait to leave.
His phone went as he got into his room. He threw his bag down onto his empty bed and pulled his mobile out to see that he had a text from Max. He opened it and found a grin spreading across his face when he saw what it said;
The song's on Youtube. We can attack them. They can't know!-Max
"I call computer!" he yelled, darting out of the room, and then remembered Mandy wasn't home yet. Smirking to himself and ignoring his dad, he darted into his parents' room and turned on the computer, opening up Youtube and pausing trying to work out what to type in. He signed in, turning it over in his mind, and then returned to the homepage. What had that song been called? He bit down on the inside of his lip and then typed in "McKinley gay pride song" and was rewarded with the sight of the poncy prep boys in the thumbnail picture. He turned off the sound and clicked on the link. Pausing it immediately, he scrolled down and tried to think what he could say. Thankfully, Max had already been on and commented. It had clearly been flagged so he clicked "show comment";
Fuck off u homos! U'll b equal over my dead body! Ur disgusting and sick and wrong! Enjoy burning in Hell! I'm sure Hitler will b happy 2 show u around! Fuck u losers! Fuck u fags! We'll win! We always win!
He smiled a tiny bit, though the Nazi comment made him kind of uncomfortable. He knew from his dad's "history lessons" that the Nazis had prosecuted gays the same way they'd attacked disabled people and Jews. It was a bit off. He would happily attack the fags and all, but that seemed like a step too far. It- that- he could feel it: that wasn't right. He bit down on his upper lip and wiggled his fingers in an indecisive manner. He really couldn't think what to say. This was harder than he'd thought, and he'd thought cyber bullying was meant to be easier; it was anonymous after all. He was safe, and he didn't have to go as far as Max had. It'd be fine.
Fuck u homos! U can't tell us what 2 do! Get out of our faces! Ur sick! Stop infecting others! Get out of our schools! Stay away! Just go lock urselves up or something! Keep ur fagginess to urself. U will pay.
He posted the comment and immediately logged of the computer, shutting it down and feeling jittery and nervous. He knew that if Simon or his dad walked in then he would be deader than dead. It would be fun to stay and torment them on line and fuel all the arguments and stuff, but he couldn't. He should probably do his homework or something. Get in his dad's good books before the shit-storm about leaving Mandy at school descended. Bitch was fourteen though! She could take care of herself. He didn't need to babysit her.
He hurried back to his room and pulled out his textbooks, throwing them onto the bed, and put his phone down next to him. It was vibrating constantly with messages from his friends, but he didn't really feel like talking. Max had crossed a line that Charlie couldn't, and he felt uncomfortable in a conversation with him now. Dragging in the Nazis – Hitler – meant dragging in a lot of other stuff. So, in the end, he sent them a message saying that Simon was having problems, which wasn't really a lie because Simon was always having problems, and that got him a free pass out of their conversation.
He actually did his homework too. He did Maths and English and even started his French before the door slammed, signalling that either Mandy or his mum was back. He really hoped that it was the former. He felt tired and sick, and he wasn't really in the mood to be shouted at anymore. His brain was a complete mess. No matter what he did, he couldn't get the Hitler comment out of his head. He didn't know why, but it was bugging him. That and something the tall homo had said; the comment about threatening people's lives because they wore a dress, he couldn't get that out of his head either.
He could hear talking downstairs, but he ignored it in favour of closing his eyes and thinking back, way back. Back before Simon and Alice. Well, not back before Simon. Back before the first attack and Alice would be a better way to put it. He needed to have nothing on his mind again. There were footsteps on the stairs, but they went past his room. He was glad of that. He didn't like to admit it, but there was something different now. That performance. Those people. They'd changed something. He didn't know what it was, but he knew that there was something – something crucial; something essential; something that mattered – that was different. He couldn't change that back.
"Dad!" he heard Mandy's voice rise into a shout, and she went storming down the stairs. Charlie rolled her eyes. She'd probably discovered that he'd poured her mascara onto the rest of her makeup and stained it all black and fucked it up. There was a very long silence before there were more footsteps on the stairs, but they were heavier and louder. He knew that it was his dad.
"What is this?" his door banged open, and his dad appeared in the doorway, holding a piece of paper in his hand. Charlie sat up, scratching his head and frowning. He shrugged and made a noncommittal sound.
"I don't know," he said, casually. "Something on a piece of paper."
"This is not a joke!" his dad ranged, and Charlie stared up at him in confusion. His dad threw the piece of paper at him, and Charlie caught it. Looking down at it, he saw, to his horror, that it was the Youtube comment section from that video. His comment. Oh shit! He was going to kill Mandy. "You wrote that?" Charlie could feel his heart pounding, sickness welling in him, and he struggled to think of something to say. Oh God. There was the Nazi comment. Mandy had probably told him that the author of that comment was Max. His dad was totally going to kill him for this.
"Um…" he said, wincing and looking up at his dad with an apprehensive expression. His dad looked madder than the time he'd told Simon that "fuck" meant "please". This was not going to end well for him. His dad clenched his hands into fists and kicked out at his bedframe.
"You wait until your mother gets home, Charles, because this-" his dad raised his clenched fists towards him, and Charlie was shocked because he'd never seen his dad speechless before. "-this is beyond serious! This is who you associate with! I can't tolerate this, Charles. Give me your phone!" Charlie wanted to say something, to snap back, to be something more than the gaping, dumb thing that he was, but he couldn't. He couldn't because his dad had never, ever called him "Charles" before. His dad snatched it off the bed whilst he sat in shock because this was worse than he'd thought. "Your car keys!"
"What?" he choked out, looking up at his dad in shock because getting the second car was an unquestionable right the moment he learnt to drive. His dad couldn't take that away from him.
"Keys!" demanded his dad, thrusting out his hand, palm open and demanding. His chest felt tight. "Keys, Charles, now!" He put his hand in his pocket slowly and took out the car keys. He could genuinely feel his hand shaking as he handed them over. His dad snatched them away. "You're not leaving this room until your mother gets back. No supper, either. You better think about what you did."
The door slammed as his dad whirled out of the room, and it wasn't the threat of no dinner, or his mum, or not leaving his room that bothered him. No, what bothered him was the Charles. He wasn't Charles, he had never been Charles. He had always been Charlie. Kev's little brother, Mandy, Simon and Alice's older brother, the second out of five. He wasn't- his dad was talking to him like he was someone else, and somehow Charlie got that. He wasn't- he wasn't his dad's son…not in the same way. He felt sick. This was not happening. It was just a stupid joke. Why was his dad taking this so seriously? It meant- it meant nothing, not really. It wasn't like he was saying that they were like Nazis or anything. It was just- it was just-
Charlie couldn't believe it, but he was struggling to justify, in his head, what he'd done. He couldn't explain it, but he was right. He knew that. He didn't- he shouldn't have to justify what he thought – believed. No one asked Simon to justify his reasons for believing in vampires…except that was probably because he gave his explanations readily and because Kevin and Charlie should so not have introduced him to Supernatural when he was, like, eight or whatever…that had been a really bad move on their part.
Still, he knew that he would have to give an explanation of some sort when his parents confronted him later. What could he say? He did it because…he did it because- because it was just what people did. It was just normal. He couldn't explain it. You couldn't explain what normal was. That would be like trying to explain why anyone named anything what it was. It was just what it was. You couldn't question that.
Charlie found it impossible to do anything to occupy his mind. He kept pacing around his room because what were his parents going to do? Maybe they really would take away his right to play hockey. Oh God, he was really screwed. Then he would be murdered by his family and friends. That would be so much fun. How could this be happening? His whole life was unravelling in front of him. Take away the hockey, and he was nothing. He didn't- he didn't exist without a hockey stick in his hands.
"Charlie," the door opened, and he spun around, feeling himself relax as he saw Simon standing there in the doorway – shouting wasn't really Simon's thing. He was holding a plate in his hand. Charlie resisted the urge to groan. "I brought you dinner." Charlie took a couple of seconds to remember how to smile before walking over to him.
"Thanks Simon," he said, walking over and taking the plate from him. One look told him that there was cardboard in it. "Simon, do you remember that talk we had about what's food and what isn't? Do you remember which list cardboard was on?" Simon's face fell slightly.
"Oh, do you want me to make you another one? Should I-"
"No, no, no!" he exclaimed, hurriedly, pulling out the cardboard and taking a huge bite that he immediately regretted. He wanted to be sick because there seemed to be a mixture of ham, nutella and cheese in the sandwich along with butter and something else that was disgusting but couldn't place. He swallowed it down though because his little brother was staring at him with wide eyes. "That's- that's great! Um, is mum back?"
"Possibly," he said, and Charlie flopped down onto the bed because he did not want some "ethical" conversation with his little brother about what it meant to be "back" or whatever. "but I think that the answer that you want is no she is not back. Geese will fly back before her."
"Okaay…" he said, getting up and putting his hands on his brother's shoulders, turning him around and pushing him towards the door. "you better get out of here. You're not allowed to be in here, I don't think." Simon opened his mouth to say something more, but Charlie pushed him out of the room and closed the door behind him. He sat back against the door to make sure that Simon didn't feel like strolling back in and trying to give him more food. God, he wanted to be sick, and he was pretty sure that wasn't just to do with the disgusting sandwich he'd just subjected himself to.
He put his arms across his knees, closed his eyes and put his face against it. He didn't know how anything could have gone so wrong after such a harmless prank. All they'd done was post a couple of comments on Youtube, and now his dad was calling him "Charles" and probably about to kill him, and his mum was going to go even more bananas than that. He didn't know how that was physically possible, but it definitely was. Also, there wouldn't be shouting – well, not too much shouting – so that they wouldn't upset Alice and Simon. He hated his mum's disappointed tone of voice, not to mention the inevitable "if only you were like Kevin". Charlie liked his older brother and all, but there was a limit to how much he could take about how Kevin was amazing.
He heard the car pull into the drive sometime after he'd put his head in his arms and given up on thinking happy thoughts. He looked up at that, though, and swallowed slightly as the door opened and closed. He bit down on the inside of his lip and listened to the sounds of talking in the hallway. Then footsteps were thundering up the stairs. He leapt up and stepped away from his door. He sat down on his bed and proudly displayed his done homework. The door opened. His mum stormed into the room followed by his dad. His dad closed the door. They stood before him, hands on their hips and glowers on their faces.
"So," said his mother. "this is what we taught you, is it?" Charlie bit down on the inside of his lip and looked away from his mum's eyes. He and his dad hadn't seen eye to eye since the Football-hockey argument when he was twelve. He and his mum on the other hand…his mum may be the top consultant adolescent endocrinologist in the state – or at least that's what he thought, it probably wasn't true – and so was really busy, but she always made time for all of them…even the ones that weren't screwed up in some way. He really did care about what his mum thought about him. They were even kind of close.
"Um…" he forced out, not sure he had anything to say to his mum. He couldn't even look at her. He redirected his gaze onto the floor.
"Look at me," commanded his mother, and, despite wanting to keep staring at the carpet, he looked back at her. She wasn't glaring at him this time. Now she just looked disappointed in him. That was definitely worse. "What's rule number one of being a big brother?" Charlie swallowed, having known that this would come up and had kept his mind from it. He didn't say anything. "Rule number one," repeated his mother. "What is rule number one?" Charlie swallowed again and closed his eyes, exhaling heavily.
"Look after your younger little siblings; protect them to the best of your ability, stand up for them, defend their honour, don't let anyone insult them, don't let them be discriminated against and love them with everything you have because they are your family." He recited the rules in a monotone, trying to make sure that his eyes didn't sting because he felt really shit.
"Correct," said his mother, arching an eyebrow. "and if Simon turned out to be gay, and people insulted him, what would you do?" Charlie felt his mouth drop open slightly. What the fuck? Simon was twelve!
"Simon's gay?" he demanded "He can't be gay, he's twelve years old!" There was a strange pause in which his parents exchanged sideways glances that he couldn't quite read. Then his mother rolled her eyes slightly.
"I didn't say Simon was gay, I said "if" he "turned out to be" gay."
"Oh," said Charlie, closing his mouth and feeling stupid because he really hadn't heard anything in what she'd said apart from the words "Simon" and "gay". Then he realised that the question still stood. He didn't know what to say. No, actually, he did know what to say. "Of course, I'd defend him! He's my little brother! People call him weirdo all the time, and I always punch 'em!" There was a pause. Then the sound of raised voices coming from downstairs filtered up to them.
"I'm going downstairs," said his dad, walking over to the door and leaving the room. There was the sound of tramping down to the front room. His mother turned back to him.
"So what's different between not discriminating against your little brother and discriminating against other people?" Charlie blinked up at her because was she seriously asking that question.
"Err, the fact that that – a – that guy wasn't just gay, he was, like, a fucking cross-dresser, and – b – he's not my little brother. Duh!" His mother stared at him, disappointed expression notching up several watts. Charlie blinked at her, wondering how that explanation had made things worse. His mother shook her head and stared down at him in obvious confusion.
"How do you justify that in your head, Charlie? I thought we'd raised you kids right…especially after Simon and Alice." Charlie swallowed and bit down on the inside of his lip even harder.
"I'm sorry, mum," he said, honestly, because he really did feel bad about what he'd done. His mum had that effect on people.
"That's not the point," said his mother, shaking her head. "Do you…Charlie, do you really believe that it's wrong to be gay, or to want to wear a dress if you're a guy? Do honestly think that it even matters? You know that just because someone is different it doesn't mean there's anything wrong, and you know not to judge by face value. You know all of that. Why are you doing this?" Charlie shrugged because he was just doing it. He- he didn't have a reason. He was just- he just knew that it was right.
"I don't know mum! Everyone does it!" His mother pursed her lips and shook her head.
"I have only two more things to say to you. Firstly, do you understand the implication that we disliked about the Hitler comment?" Charlie nodded instantly.
"Mum, I- I don't agree at all. I just- I didn't know Max would do that." There was a pause in which his mother stared at him intensely before nodding.
"I'm glad. I think your father would advocate throwing you out of the house if you'd answered differently." Charlie gulped slightly at that because that thought was so wrong. No one threw their children out because they disliked gays and cross dressers, it only happened the other way round! "And lastly, here," she threw his phone back at him. Charlie blinked as he caught the slender iPhone. He stared down at it and then looked back up at his mother with a confused frown.
"You're giving me my phone back?" he asked, not entirely sure how that constituted punishing him. His mother nodded once, the tenseness of her face telling him that he wasn't in anyway forgiven for what he'd done.
"I want you to go onto that Youtube page, and I want you to read some of the other comments." Charlie frowned at her, not at all sure what that was about. Why did she want him to absorb more homophobic slander? Still, he wasn't being punished so he guessed that he couldn't really complain.
"Okay," he said with a grin. "do I get supper?" he asked hopefully. His mother sent him a flat glare that said he was going to stay hungry today. He refrained from rolling his eyes and turned his phone on instead. His mother gave him another glare and then left the room. Still a little confused, he accessed their neighbour's wi-fi and went onto Youtube. He typed in what he had done last time and flicked down to the comments again. The top one said;
To Dalton Academy: thank you. For the first time since I came out, I've seen proof that people in the world really care about people like us. I've been bullied every day for the past year, and my parents let me stay at home on the condition that I never tell anyone about my sexuality until I'm miles away and can't shame them. I've lost all my friends, and I've never felt so alone. There are so many days that I consider ending it all. I keep going by telling myself that something good will come. For the first I've been proved right. Thank you for showing me the love in the world. Thank you for saving my life. Thank you.
Charlie put down his phone onto the bed sheet, feeling something sting in his eyes because people really thought about killing themselves because of this. That was- this saved people's lives? What? This stuff, like, mattered to people. This was proof that- what? If he'd got that right then that meant that the person had thought about killing themself because they were bullied and now they didn't because they'd seen a video. What the hell? People- bullying- that…Didn't that mean the bullies of people who killed themselves would be, like, guilty of manslaughter or something?
Disturbed, he looked at some of the other comments;
U r proof that it gets better – never give up! U r loved!xxx
When I was seventeen I came out to my twin brother. He outed me to everyone that we knew, and my parents threw me out. I ran away, and I had nowhere to go, and no one to turn to. I tried to hang myself in a motel room, but one of the cleaners found me when they left a cloth in there. I was saved completely by accident. One of the nurses at the hospital introduced me to two of her gay friends, and they helped to find me a job and somewhere to leave. I even went to the community college where I met my future wife. Now I'm married, and we have three children. It's not easy, and it's impossible to do it on your own, but you can make it. Love exists in the world, so never, ever give up. Remember that you're not alone, and you'll weather the storm because we're strong people – strong enough to admit we're different in a society that, on the whole, frowns on difference. We're all unique, we're all diverse, and we're all loved. xxxx
To all the bullies out there who've come to this page in order to slander gay people, I want you to know this: you are MURDERS! My friend was gay, and he- he came out to his closest friends. Now some of us were okay with it, but others weren't. One of our "friends" spread the secret round the school. He had hatred rained down on him every day. People kept telling him that he was worthless. That he was sick. That he was diseased. His parents agreed. He died aged sixteen. It wasn't suicide. He may have died by his own hand, but YOU; you people that insulted him, bullied him, kicked him, punched him…IGNORED both him and the violence, put that knife in his hand. You tied the noose around his neck, and you should know that his blood – and the blood of all the others – is on your hands, and even if you're just an observer then you're still guilty because you were too weak to stand up for him. I know how that feels. I did that. I killed the best friend that I'll ever have. Hatred and indifference kill. Please help us save people. If you know someone out there that's suffering for any reason, reach out and save them. You can't turn back time, you can't change the past, but we make the future. Make it good one. Save a life. R.I.P. James Marcus Roberts – we'll always love you, and you'll live on in us forever.
I know this is an American video, but the people that made this – Dalton Academy – should know that it's being viewed around the world. I'm from England, and I know that all my school has seen this, and that social media is ablaze with it. I'm not gay myself, but I want to commend you for raising an issue that is as rife in our society. Bullying is prevalent all over the world in schools, homes and work places. I don't know about in America, but people should know about the societies that are there to help people in dire situations like The Samaritans. There is help in the world whether they're school boys, your friends or anonymous strangers…and that came out much weirder than I intended, but what I meant was that sometimes it's easier to confide in someone you don't know then someone you do! Err…I'm going to go now. Peace out!
You kids are doing something really great in what you've just done. My daughter thought that being a lesbian was a terrible thing. She killed herself before anyone found out because she was convinced there would be nothing left in the world for her. I think something like this would have saved her. Thank you for giving other people the chance to live proper lives, and for anyone that may consider bullying someone or throwing someone out just because of who they love, remember this: there are so many deaths that you can't stop, so many terrible things that you can't change, but then think about the death of someone close to you. Imagine if you could stop that. Imagine the person you love the most hung from the ceiling…It's pain beyond belief. Please help. Everybody is loved by somebody; imagine that pain inflicted onto the person that you care about the most. Fight for your family and friends – they're all you've got in the end.
Charlie switched his phone off in a hurry. He felt sick. On instinct, he grabbed the trashcan and freakily coloured vomit spewed out onto balled up bits of paper and pencil shavings. He knew that, though the sick was made from Simon's bad food, he had only thrown up because of all that he'd just read. He got why his mum had asked him to read those comments now. He was really struggling to keep his breathing steady. He put the trashcan back on the floor and flopped down onto the duvet. He felt like an idiot…mainly because he was so confused, and he got the impression that this was meant to be simple. He got that you either hated them or were on their side, but he felt like he was definitely in the middle ground. Like, it was wrong, but he didn't want anyone to die. He couldn't understand why there wasn't anything in between. He also didn't- no one- it wasn't that bad, surely. Yeah, locker slams hurt, but it wasn't that bad, right?
He groaned and put his hands over his face. Rolling onto his side, he found his anger at his sister building. His confusion and uncertainty and the feeling that he was missing something big needed an outlet, and fury at his sister seemed like a very good way to release that. He clenched his hands into fists and screwed his eyes shut and kicked out at the wall because this was her fault. This was all on her. For the first time ever, he wanted to punch her right in the centre of her nose which was so "perfect".
However that thought made him feel even worse: he couldn't hit a girl, let alone his sister. He couldn't believe that he'd considered that idea. That fell under rule number one. It was just one of the things that his dad said made a decent guy; you don't hit women, or children, or your family. You don't pick fights, and if you get involved only fight someone that was the same size or bigger. Anything else was dishonourable.
Don't pick fights…This didn't count as picking a fight, right? Insulting someone wasn't the same as picking a fight. Except if that was the case then he was definitely punching at people below his weight. It didn't count if they deserved it, right? Except it was never pick fights. "Don't" meant "never" in his dad's language.
He exhaled heavily, throwing his arms over his head, and wondered why this was happening to him. He hadn't done anything wrong. Why was his world seemingly coming apart at the seams? He hadn't done anything bad so why was he getting punished because he did what other people did. Why didn't other people, then, experience the feeling that nothing made sense and everything both confirmed and contradicted everything that they'd been told. And why could his mind make this a huge thing but not understand the huge thing that was this whole thing that was going on?
Charlie peeled his eyes open at the sound of feet moving around. He raised a hand to his eyes, realising that he was sprawled on top of his covers and still fully dressed in multiple layers, and squinted at the figure in his room. He reached over and picked up his phone, lighting up the screen to cast a pale, white-blue light across his bedroom.
Simon stood there, bent over and holding Charlie's trashcan in his hands. Charlie frowned, ruffled up his hair and swung himself out of bed. Simon did not respond to the sound and simply put the bin on the floor. Charlie watched him through narrowed eyes as Simon then decided he was going to pile up all the clothes that were piled on the floor. Great, he was sleepwalking.
"Simon," he said, softly, moving over to his brother's side. Glancing in the bin, he saw that Simon had, in his sleep, decided to clean away the vomit…God, his little brother was so fucking weird. "Simon, buddy, let's get you to bed, okay?" Simon looked at him with unfocused eyes and then attached himself onto his jumper.
"The fireflies must be saved," he said in a solemn voice. "They are being poisoned. I have some suspects. The top of my list are the fruit bats. They are very suspicious." Charlie pursed his lips, trying not to burst out into hysterics because this was ridiculous, and lifted up his little brother into his arms. His little brother was still clinging onto him.
"Okay, right, time to get you to bed." Simon shook his head furiously, kicking Charlie in the shins as he flailed his limbs.
"I must stay and fight the fruit bats! Help me save the fireflies!" Charlie stared at Simon in mild disbelief because Simon was twelve god damn it, and he shouldn't be sleeping with Charlie, but…He knew his brother well enough to know that he had no plans of letting go.
"Okay, let's save the frickin' fireflies!" he grumbled and carried his little brother back to his bed and peeled back the covers, sliding both of them under so that they were lying side by side. He tucked his little brother under his arm and closed his eyes, head flopping back onto the pillow.
At least this was normal. Wait, what? What the fuck was he thinking? This was not normal! It was not normal to have his little brother sleeping with him when his brother was twelve. What is it really so wrong to just be normal? What was wrong with being like everybody else? Being special, being different, was never a good thing. Simon was "special", Alice was "special", and Charlie would never – despite the fact that he loved them to the bottom of his heart – want to be like them. Why was he getting punished for being normal when being normal was all that he was? He'd been ordinary for his entire life; never the best at anything but never a failure either, so why did it matter that he was just being normal now?
"Charlie, why are there eggs in the window?" Charlie opened his eyes a fraction, seeing a tiny sliver of the world that was mostly being obscured by his eye lashes, and let out a groan at the presence of light. It was morning, and Simon was clearly awake. He put his hands over his face, sighed and then sat up in bed. It was technically still dark outside, but Simon had the light on and there were people in the street and cars on the road. He glanced over at his little brother and saw that he was leaning against the glass, peering out at something.
"Eggs?" he questioned, confusedly, as he reached for his phone to check the time. 7:45. Wow, Simon was a pretty decent alarm clock. Simon nodded, still staring out of the window. "There are eggs in the window?" he echoed; the hell? Charlie scrunched up his face, took a couple of seconds to be confused by his little brother and then got out of bed, moving over to Simon's side. He looked out and saw nothing remotely egg related. "Simon," he began, softly and not quite able to believe he was about to ask this. "what can you see that I can't?" There was a moment of silence before Simon pointed out onto the street.
"I see many things that you'll never, but mostly I see eggs. Do you think they represent the possible rebirth of yourself into a better person? I think they could, but I was wondering how they got there." Charlie stared at his little brother, wide eyed and not at all sure what to say to that. He guessed that Simon had overheard everything yesterday, and understood it too, which was probably worse. "You should know that despite your many imperfections which you see as perfections that blight you constantly you are my old brother…I love you, Charlie!" Then, at the end of his thoroughly weird speech that sounded like it had come out of some pretentious novel that he'd study in English, Simon leapt forward and threw his arms around Charlie's waist.
"Err…" he said, not entirely sure what to say to that as his little brother continued to squeeze him in a tight hug that would be painful if Simon had any upper body strength. "are you going to stop hugging me any time soon?" Simon shook his head furiously.
"No, a hug is only a hug if you reciprocate it, otherwise it is only a deflected gesture!" Charlie shook his head and dropped down onto one knee so he and his brother were at a slightly more equal height.
"Okay," he said, giving him a small smile. "if we're talking feelings then how about at this…I don't understand half the things you say, and I don't understand the way you talk, but you are my little brother so I think you're awesome!" He reached forward and pulled his little brother into a tight hug. Simon jumped up and down a little bit in excitement.
"Well, at least we taught you something." Charlie clicked his neck as he looked around to see his mum standing in the door way. He'd ignored the footsteps in the hallway because it was morning and so everyone was getting ready for the day. He smiled at his mum a little bit, hoping to see some forgiveness in her eyes. She simply cocked her head to the side. "Breakfast, Charlie, I think you're hungry," she said, instead, and walked away. He rolled his eyes slightly and let go of his brother.
"Come on, have you eaten?" he asked, and Simon shook his head, clinging onto his sleeve. Charlie frowned at him, wondering why Simon had become so attached to him again. Simon hadn't been like this since his last attack, which reminded him. "Simon, you haven't had your medication, have you?" Simon shook his head again. "Go on! Go to your room and take it!" Simon reluctantly detached himself from Charlie and ran out of the room. Charlie shook his head and slammed his door shut and quickly changed his clothes before dashing from the room and down the stairs, eager for breakfast.
"Good morning, Charles," said his dad, and Charles felt his entire body tense at that. He hated the way his parents were punishing him; his mum made him feel guilty and sick whilst his dad made him feel like he wasn't part of the family anymore. "breakfast is ready." Charlie looked at the toast on the table and felt his heart sink when he saw that his dad had cooked his sister breakfast. God, he hated his dad sometimes.
"Morning," he grunted, dropping into his seat and giving his sister the finger. Mandy just shrugged casually and continued to eat her meal.
"You need to get ready quickly because I'm taking you and Mandy to school before I drop Simon and Alice off." Charlie frowned at him in incomprehension for a moment, and then clocked onto the fact that he was not getting his car keys back. He groaned loudly at that.
"Dad, can't you just-"
"No!" said his dad in a tone of finality as Simon came dashing into the kitchen. He looked better than he normally did, and Charlie supposed that he'd gotten more sleep last night than he did normally or something. He felt a tiny bit better at that, but not much. His head still hurt from thinking about the whole gay thing and what he was and was not supposed to do and all that crap, and he knew that he had to do something soon because when their mum made to leave she kissed them all the cheek except Charlie, and normally that wouldn't have bothered him at all because he hated it, but now he missed it.
He left the room pretty quickly because he hated the atmosphere that he was getting from his dad and sister and went back upstairs to pack his school things. He saw that his friends had sent celebratory texts about how many people they'd got online to spam the video, but Charlie didn't really feel any kind of victory at all. He just couldn't pretend that he was okay with it anymore. The idea that it could make someone commit suicide – that you could be responsible for someone's death – made him really uncomfortable, and he didn't understand how the others didn't think about it.
Tramping back downstairs, he looked in the hallway and couldn't see his hockey stick. He shook his head, guessing his dad had probably moved it in case Simon slept walked downstairs, and moved to the cupboard. Opening it, he couldn't see any of his hockey things. He frowned and stepped back out into the hallway once more.
"Dad!" he called, wandering back to the kitchen. "Where's my hockey stuff?" His dad looked up and blinked once before smiling.
"I gave it away last night to the charity. You're not playing hockey anymore. Those players are a terrible influence on you," he said, calmly. Charlie felt his eyes bug open, mouth dropping open in disbelief. His dad had what? He couldn't give his hockey stuff to charity! He had to be joking! He couldn't have actually done that.
"You did what?" he roared. A second later, he heard Alice begin to cry. His dad gave him a glare and got to his feet.
"Get your things," he snapped and hurried up the stairs. Mandy and Simon both turned a glare on him. He had never seen Simon give him a glare before. He didn't want to think about what his brother was thinking right now. He simply got to his feet and stormed out of the house, sitting on the doorstep. He dropped the rucksack by the step and put his face in his arms. He couldn't believe that his dad had gotten rid of his hockey things. Hockey was the only thing that he had that made him anything. He was normal, but the only thing that lifted him slightly above the crap masses was hockey. His dad had taken that away from him.
"Get in the fucking car you loser," he looked up and saw Mandy standing on the doorstep. Thankfully, Simon was still inside. He got up and towered over his sister, enraged by the fact that dad had given her the keys to the car.
"How could you rat me out like that?" he demanded. Mandy shrugged, unlocking the car and looking away from him.
"I don't know. I guess it was time you learnt a lesson; the lesson of life." She turned back around to glare at him in anger. "You can't just seriously expect to be able to throw crap at people and get nothing in return. That guy from Dalton was totally right! I personally thought he should have beaten the crap out of all of you, but then I realised something; bruises and such are all going to fade, and they won't change who you are, but this might." She sighed. "You're bastard and a jerk ninety-eight per cent of the time, but you're still my brother, and I don't want my older brother to be like that. You won't thank me now, but in a couple of years, when you're the better man, you will."
Charlie opened his mouth to swear back at her and call her out on her fake behaviour, but Simon came bounding out of the house, and so he snapped his mouth shut. Simon automatically hopped into the car and opened his book, and Charlie, sending Mandy one last glare that said he didn't thank her at all, got in front seat as his dad came out of the house, holding onto Alice's hand.
Charlie slammed his head against the head rest and closed his eyes, blocking out the rest of his family as the car started. His mind was jammed full with so many different thoughts and feelings, and he didn't know what to do. He couldn't argue with what anyone had said about it being wrong because he could no long fully advocate his own actions, but he didn't know what to do about that. If he stood up for gay rights and everything then he would be bullied like crap too, and if he was bullied then no one would take his threats against Simon and Alice seriously, and he would be a terrible older brother if that happened. On the other hand, if he didn't change something then he would lose his entire family because of one stupid person. One insignificant cross-dresser had somehow managed to take his family's love and respect from him – except if you were Simon because Simon still loved him and was weird.
What could he do about it, though? How could he stop his hockey friends from attacking him when he said that he couldn't play hockey anymore? What was he meant to do? They would tear him to pieces, and he would lose everything. He didn't have any friends in the town apart from the hockey players. They were the only people he knew. They were only people he'd even talked to. He was so dead.
"Charlie, your stop." Charlie peeled his eyes open, guessing that he had probably dozed off in the car again, and sighed at the sight of the school. He rolled his eyes, bid his siblings goodbye, and then stepped out of the car. Mandy hopped out too, giving everyone a more cheerful farewell. Mandy looked at him once more with a little bit of a kinder smile.
"Seriously, stop moping about this. You're perfectly capable of flying below the radar at McKinley; it's really not that hard or painful. Some of the guys are as nice as the ones at your old school." Charlie closed his eyes, huffing because he did not want this to be made into some psycho bullshit about missing his friends.
"Whatever," he said, shouldering his rucksack and marching off into the school with a vague plan in his head. He knew that the only way to get out of the hockey team was to talk to Max alone. Max was the captain of the hockey, and, despite his comments on the internet, he was a pretty decent guy when he was on his own. Best of all, though, he knew that Max was in the gym at this time: on his own.
He made his way through the school halls, glad that they were almost completely empty because that meant he didn't have to talk to anyone, or glare at them because he reckoned that glaring at people would be hard at the moment. He looked into the gym and spotted Max punching the punch bag with a great feeling of aggression.
"Hey Max," he said, and Max spun around, raising a hand in greeting.
"Hey Charlie, how's your little siblings?" he shrugged, wandering further into the room.
"Look, Max," he said in a voice of trepidation. He knew that this could go quite badly if it came out wrong. "I need to talk about something with you." Max nodded, face demanding that he get a move on with it because Max didn't want to talk about stuff with him. "I can't play hockey anymore." Max's eyebrows leapt up his head.
"What?" he demanded. "You can't play hockey anymore? You don't quit hockey!" Charlie held up his hands, pulling a face.
"I know, but my dad sold all my stuff to charity last night." Max's eyebrows flew up even further. He pulled out an apologetic smile. "It's about the video 'cause the comment about the Nazis pissed my dad off, and my parents just need me around for…you know…my siblings. I just- they think you're a bad influence – I mean, you're not – and they don't want that around Simon and Alice…I mean, Simon is seriously impressionable." Max sighed and rolled his eyes, pulling off his boxing gloves.
"Okay," he said. Charlie jerked backwards in surprise, looking shocked. Max snorted in amusement at that, and they both chuckled at the weirdness of the situation. "Look, I get that your family is, kind of, you know…just a bit off so it's okay. I mean, that's what being a man is about, right? You look after your family, so it's okay. You get a free pass, but, still, pull your sister back from the edge." Charlie nodded, amazed at how easy it had been to get through to Max when it was just the two of them standing in the locker room with no hoard of hockey players hovering over Max's shoulder, waiting on every decision that he made.
He walked out of the gym with a small grin on his face, feeling accomplished because maybe that meant that he could get his car back, now, and his dad would stop calling him Charles and things could go back to being kind of how they were before. After all, he didn't have much time left at high school, so he could ride out the rest of this in the backseat where no one gave a damn about him in a good or bad way.
Turning round the corner, he saw that guy standing by his locker. He was wearing a dress, and it made Charlie's sink crawl because, nice not insulting guy or not, it was still really kind of gross. He just didn't get it, but he didn't get it either way; he didn't get why someone would do it, and he didn't get why someone would threaten someone's life about it. He guessed it was a good thing that he was stepping out of this thing all together. He was just going to sit by the side lines and damn what the guy on Youtube had said because if you weren't a friend then you wouldn't feel like that.
"Hey," he said, walking over to him. The guy jerked and backed up against the locker in fear of what Charlie might do to him. He guessed that that was another reason to just get out of this because he didn't want people to look at him and assure that he was going to attack them – that completely went against his dad's no violence rule…sort of.
"What do you want?" he demanded, eyes narrowed. Charlie held up his hands to try and get him to calm down because he didn't want any trouble or for any attention to be drawn to the fact that he was talking to him. He was trying to vanish completely from the social scene.
"I just wanted to say that I don't think what you're doing is, like, right or whatever because it's kind of weird, but I just wanted to say that I'm going to stop…"
"Bullying me?" he demanded, eyebrow arching in a condescending manner. Charlie felt that the words made him feel uncomfortable. He shrugged.
"Whatever, the point is that I'm stopping, and I mean, like I'm not going to stand up for you." He narrowed his eyes, and Charlie rolled his own because this was coming out completely wrong.
"I don't get what you're saying to me? Why are you telling me this? I mean, actually, why did you decide to stop? Just what the hell are you doing?" Charlie sighed and shrugged again.
"I don't know, but, basically, I read some of the comments on Youtube, and I kind of…I got some perspective – plus my parents flipped out – and I saw that…I mean, if you were my little brother then I would stand up and protect just because, and so what I think I'm trying to say is that I get someone probably cares about you whatever you're like." Charlie furrowed his brow, and he remembered what Simon had said to him this morning. His little brother loved him, and he didn't want to tarnish his reputation with that. He guessed, out of everything, that's what he cared about most.
"Okay…" he said, and Charlie just shrugged his shoulders and pushed himself away from the lockers because it didn't have to make sense to anyone but him. He had just suddenly realised that the only thing that really mattered at all in life was family, everybody else's lives were completely irrelevant, and with that comforting thought, he stepped into the crowds that were filling the hallways of McKinley, instantly vanishing into the mix of gillets, jumpers, jeans, skirts and bags that flooded the hallways on their owners.