Warnings for this chapter: bullying, fighting, dissociation, slurs.
The annoying buzz of his alarm clock ripped John from his dream. Nightmare, really. He had dreamt that his schoolmates were beating him up; only that was more reality than fiction. With a huff, John grabbed his glasses and carefully put them on. It seemed he moved slowly in the mornings, too sleep deprived despite his long hours of rest to function properly. All of his added wounds from yesterday weren't helping either.
Yawning, John stood and crossed the room to his computer. He waited for it to turn on, pesterchum immediately blinking to life.
- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 17:28 -
TT: Happy Birthday, John.
TT: I wish you the best on your 16th.
TT: John?
TT: Oh dear. It appears as though you are offline.
TT: Next time, sign out before you go to bed.
TT: I'll try to message you again later.
TT: Goodnight, John.
- tentacleTherapist [TT] ceased pestering ectoBiologist [EB] at 17:41 -
John felt his heart twist. He was so done with everything yesterday that he ended up blatantly ignoring one of his only friends! How could he let this happen? Now fully awake, he quickly opened up a new chat.
- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 6:12 -
EB: rose!
TT: Good morning, John.
TT: Happy belated birthday I suppose.
EB: sorry for not replying earlier.
John held his breath. He hoped she wasn't mad or anything…
TT: It's quite alright. I'm sure you were occupied with something else.
TT: I'm only glad that you are here now.
EB: good! :B though i can't be here long, i have to get ready for school.
TT: I understand. Go ahead, we can catch up another time.
EB: ok. bye!
- ectoBiologist [EB] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 6:23 -
Exiting the chat screen, John threw on some clothes–black skinny jeans and a sweater– and grabbed his bag. Although his school started at 7:40, John had to walk there. His father had refused to take him long ago, and John didn't have any friends to carpool with. Even worse, it's a long walk.
Everything in hand, John slipped quietly out of his room and headed down the stairs. The house was silent, but John knew that his dad would be getting ready for work right about now. And he would rather avoid his father than try to be like other kids who would say goodbye to their parents before leaving. John wasn't like them. He knew he wasn't like normal kids, so he didn't feel bothered to try and make peace with his dad. It was a useless effort, as John had discovered a while back. Yesterday's events had confirmed this once again. His father was too set in his ways to change and accept John.
John paused at the door. With his father nowhere in sight, he had a chance to go to the kitchen and check the trash for his present. His fingers hesitated on the doorknob before John decided fuck it and headed towards the kitchen. His plans were immediately crushed as he found the trash gone; a new, empty bag in place. It appeared that his dad had already taken the garbage out.
Whatever. John turned away briskly and left his house in an irritated huff. A million 'what if's clouded his mind. What if he had alerted his dad to his presence yesterday instead of hiding in the living room? What if he had gone back downstairs to retrieve his present earlier? What if he had told Dave the truth, that he hadn't gotten his present because his dad threw it away?
John shook his head to rid himself of these pointless thoughts. What happened happened, and there was no use dwelling on past events. Instead, John pulled out his headphones, plugged them into his phone, and turned up the music. Loud.
It was colder outside than John thought it would be, and John cursed himself for not bringing a sweatshirt. Little puffs of his breath hovered in front of him. Everything around him was covered in a thin layer of frost, despite it already being April. He supposed that's what made Washington Washington.
John gripped his backpack straps tightly, knuckles turning white from the force. With an extra heavy sigh, John continued on his way to school, knowing he would make it in another half hour.
Ω Ω Ω
By the time he had gotten to school, it was already 7:20. He entered the building, sighing in relief to be out of the morning chill. He had gotten to school a little too early, so no one was really there yet. Most students got their parents to drop them off or just drove themselves. Even though John was already a junior, he wouldn't be getting his license anytime soon. He didn't even have his permit yet, and besides, his dad would never sign him up for a driving school. There was no extra car for him to drive, and he sincerely doubted that his dad would buy him a car.
Rather than lingering in the hallways like other students chatting up their friends, John headed straight to his first period class to defrost and warm up. His teacher was a kind man who let John sit in the classroom even when class hadn't started. John found that this was the best way to avoid his bullies. Bullies. John hated that word. It sounded so elementary and childish that he rarely used it. He doesn't consider himself bullied by his classmates, more like targeted by them. Victimized by them. Bullied though, no way.
Besides, teachers and staff wouldn't let bullying happen in this school. So when they turn a blind eye to the troubles John goes through because of the jocks, it can't possibly be bullying.
Trying to push these thoughts to the back of his mind, John opens the door to his first period class. His English teacher is seated at their desk, doing what looks to be grading papers.
"Ah, John. Good morning," his teacher says upon noticing him.
"Good morning," John repeats as he moves to take his seat at the back of the classroom.
"One sec, John," his teacher says, making John freeze in place. "I wanted to talk to you about your latest essay."
"Oh… that…" John begins nervously.
Mr. Jones sets aside his papers to face John properly. "I can tell that your quality of writing has gone down. Your grades for this class have been dropping as well."
Oh. So that's what this is about, John thinks to himself. He really shouldn't be surprised that a teacher is sitting him down to talk about his terrible grades, yet he is. None of his other teachers have done this yet, and his own father knows nothing about what John does in school. John expected his teachers to do something like this, hell, he wanted them to, just to show that they cared. That he, John Egbert, actually mattered in their classes. Or at all.
"Is everything alright at home?" Mr. Jones continues when he receives no verbal response from John.
His tongue suddenly feels like it's glued to the roof of his mouth. Rather than speaking, John nods dumbly at his words.
Mr. Jones raises a brow, prompting John to elaborate. John can tell that there's no getting out of this discussion now.
John clears his throat, and forces his tongue to work properly. "Everything's… fine." His words sound strained, even to himself.
His teacher doesn't look too convinced. But instead of pressing the matter further, he sits back in his chair with a sigh, fixing John with a hard stare. "You know, if anything's troubling you, you can always come to me to talk."
John's eyes widened slightly. This was the offer, the one chance he had to talk and tell someone everything. This was what he'd been secretly waiting and hoping for.
"Thanks, Mr. Jones," John says before he can stop himself. "I'll keep that in mind." He turns away from his teacher and goes to the back of the class, finally sitting as the bell for first period sounds.
John pulls out his textbook and notebook, ready to pretend to pay attention to the lecture as noisy students file through the door. Some of the jocks that John shares this class with make dumb faces at him while Mr. Jones isn't looking, and John merely sighs and turns his head down to the open textbook in front of him. It's open to a random page, not even the chapter they're studying, but John doesn't care. He wasn't planning on paying attention to this class. Or any class, for that matter.
He isn't quite sure why he turned down his teacher's offer to talk. It was his chance to confide in someone, to release all of his fears and frustrations. Yet he bit his tongue, and kept his silence.
I don't need to talk to someone. I can handle this own my own.
Ω Ω Ω
A shrill ring of the bell ended first period, and John, like every other student, quickly grabbed his things to head to their next class. Despite being seated in the back of the class, John was the first one out the door to avoid his… er… persecutors.
"Hey, faggot!"
He wasn't fast enough today, apparently.
John stopped dead in his tracks. He knew that if he ran to avoid them, they would only make it hurt that much more.
"Look, he responds to it now!"
One of the jocks laughed, others joining in. Nearby students gave them a disappointed look, and scurried away. Despite them not approving of what was happening, they would rather ignore it and go to their next class rather than intervene. John hated them.
He didn't know where his sudden defiance came from, but John found himself moving forward, and continuing on down the hall.
"Hey, where you going, Egderp?"
John internally yelled at his feet to stop. They wouldn't listen. He kept walking.
"Hey! I'm talking to you!"
A hand was placed on his left shoulder, violently wrenching him around to face the jock. Nathan. His pimpled face was twisted in anger.
"You listen to me when I'm talking, you fucking faggot," Nathan sneered.
"He's gonna get it today," Brandon added from Nathan's side, stepping up to grab John by the front of his sweater.
John just stood there, avoiding eye contact. His expression was blank and unfocused. He didn't feel as if he could control his body. Was this even his body? They can't be talking to him, right?
The first punch didn't even hurt. Yet John was thrown backwards by the force. He clutched his jaw, where Brandon had struck him.
The rest was a blur. There was movement, and John was silent throughout it. He wasn't too sure what was happening.
"Come on, he's no fun today," a voice faded in, sounding disappointed.
"Yeah. He's no fun when he doesn't scream," another continued with a bark of a laugh.
The tapping of receding footsteps registered in John's mind, and he finally started piecing things back together. He was aware that he was curled up in a ball in the middle of the hall, tears wetting his cheeks and blurring his vision. His backpack had been thrown to the side; notebooks and textbooks strewn everywhere. His sack lunch was trampled and squashed; inedible. He was alone in the hall.
He tried getting up, moving lethargically as if trying to get used to being in motion again. John sniffled, the sharp pains from his new wounds stabbing his body with each movement. Finally he stood, adjusted his glasses, and went to retrieve his belongings. He didn't bother with the lunch, opting to leave it on the floor. John could survive and go another day without lunch. He took his time sorting his papers, just aware enough to know that he was already late for his next class, so there was no point in rushing.
The weight of his bag resting on his back felt weird.
Walking to the bathroom to clean up felt weird.
His own expression in the mirror was weird. Almost unrecognizable.
Taking of his glasses and shaking his head, John splashed cold water on his face to try and wake up. He grabbed a paper towel, wiping the water and tears away to gain some sense of normalcy. He looked in the mirror again; his small eyes were red and puffy at the edges, bangs damp and sticking to his forehead.
He felt normal.
John put his glasses back on and headed to class.
Ω Ω Ω
Mr. Kerr gave John a short look when he entered the room. "Thank you for finally joining us, Mr. Egbert. Now, please take your seat."
Some students laughed. John kept his head down and moved to his usual spot: back row, closest to the door. He liked to make a quick exit.
Class went on as it normally did, John pulling out his history textbook and pretending to follow along like he usually did. He didn't have to think during this time. He just had to go through the motions. It felt normal.
The next class passed in a similarly uneventful fashion.
Lunch was the same as it usually was. John didn't have a lunch, again, so he sat at a table in the corner alone. He pulled out his phone and signed into pesterchum. Time to see what his chums were up to.
- ectoBiologist [EB] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 12:03 -
EB: hey rose.
TT: John, I didn't expect to hear from you so soon.
TT: You are at lunch, I assume?
EB: yep!
TT: Well, looks like you have some time then. How is your day going?
EB: eh, you know. the usual.
John was proud of himself for not hesitating the reply.
EB: nothing too special. how about you?
The two went on, Rose telling John about the kitten she found that morning on the way to school that she and her cousin rescued. The two girls skipped school, taking the little kitten home to feed and shelter from the rain. John smiled at that, happy to know that Rose and Roxy were so kind to others who needed help.
Maybe he could…
No.
John didn't need help from them.
He didn't need help from anyone.
Need help? From what?
I can handle it.
