Chapter Two: Making Enemies.
One day in the ninth grade I wore this white blouse. It wasn't anything special. A thin material in which you needed an undershirt to wear so nothing was showing. What I did was similar to such, but not by much.
My mom had this sort of sports bra she would wear while she went to her aerobics class. It was basically this wrap she wore around her breasts. Just a plain black. No straps included. Before I went to bed the previous night, I snuck into the laundry room and stole it to bring back to mine. (Sniffing it to make sure it didn't reek of sweat. Actually spraying a bit of my cologne to it.) I put the wrap on that morning followed by the white blouse then immediately threw a jacket on top of that. Hiding the fact that I was wearing the articles.
See my parents, like previously mentioned, didn't agree with what I'd been wearing for the past year. I would often find myself only dressing this way on school days or when I'd sneak away to Tweek's house. So most of the time I had to hide what I was wearing as I left the house to go to school. Often it simply by applying my overlarged jacket I've grown to love. But in some instances it wasn't as easy. Like when I'd wear big, fluffy leg warmers over ankle booties or shorts with tights. (Which was one of my favourites.)
Getting the clothes was one of the hardest things for me. Around this time I didn't have a job yet. Only being about fourteen or so. The issue of having money was one of my biggest problems. Rebecca or as everyone else liked to call her, Red, was another girl who didn't mind my choice in fashion.
Being related to her was probably one of the best things in my favour. She would often give me hand-me-downs of her own or go to second-hand stores; buying simple things for me. Red never spoke to me in public though. At school she'd act like we weren't even related. But outside of the social environment, she would sometimes appear at my house. Bringing over plastic bags filled with whatever she didn't want anymore. I was always grateful for Red. If it wasn't for her, I would have an even harder time doing these tasks myself.
Tweek's mother always drove him and I to school. Living not too far away from each other, they never found a problem picking me up on their way there. That day, as I climbed into the backseat, Tweek turned around from the front to smile largely at me. We were IMing the previous night and I told him all about how I was taking a big risk with today's ensemble. The way he smiled at me was like a signal for letting me know everything was going to be all right. Which I could only hope was true.
As the year went by in eighth grade the taunting slowly died down. Sure there were the occasional verbal abuse I would receive but nothing too heart-wrenching. But freshmen year… That was a whole nother story.
I had to deal with facing a new bunch of students whom hadn't taken witness to my revelation the year before. Most of them not taking lightly to it.
When we rode up to the front entrance of the high school, Tweek and I exited the vehicle. Him automatically taking my hand in his as we walked to the building.
Somehow we were becoming closer. Wasn't quite sure how it was happening; but it was. Constantly I found Tweek holding my hand as we walked down the halls. He would hold me within his arms whenever I cried after school about something some jerk said to me that day. I would receive little kisses placed upon my cheek, or on my bang-covered forehead. Mainly at the most random of instances. I never questioned why he was beginning to do so more. Didn't ever think I needed to. I figured if I was all right with what was happening and didn't once ask him to stop, I shouldn't worry about it.
Our lockers were placed right next to each other. Having our last names so close in the alphabet, we were often next to one another either it be our lockers or the few classes we actually shared. As I opened mine, dropping my messenger bag to ground, I hesitantly unzipped my jacket. Looking around to see if anyone was watching to witness what Craig Tucker was wearing today. Luckily, hardly anyone was around (More than likely most of them being within the cafeteria where a lot of the students hung out before school started.) so I wrapped my jacket up placing it on the top shelf the locker provided, closed the metal contraption and strapped my messenger bag back on my shoulder.
The thin material of the blouse felt strange on the area of skin that wasn't covered by my mom's wrap. I wasn't used to wearing something as light as it was and I was a bit unsure on if I should grab my jacket and put it back on. Tweek must have caught me questioning my motives because after he was done collecting the supplies he needed for first period, his eyes met mine. His free hand wrapping me into a half hug, with a kiss set on my temple.
"You're gonna be fine, C." He whispered in my ear. "Just don't worry about it. You look pretty adorable, all right?"
I nodded even though I really just wanted to curl into a ball right where I was. As soon as the school bell rang, Tweek pulled me along to our class we shared together. I wasn't quite sure what to expect.
If I were ever to have thought of having an enemy, it would be Wendy Testaburger. The bitch who caused a scene in Algebra I. She was constantly on my case. Even though Bebe, who was probably her closest friend since the third grade, tried to get her to stop bitching at me; it never worked. Wendy was one of those people who were difficult to persuade from what they felt was right. Once she had her mind set on a simple idea, she was sticking to it. And being the hardcore feminist Wendy was, it was often for topics containing the female rights.
I was pretty much convinced Wendy was the only feminist in the entire small town we lived in, so preaching (in my opinion), would be considered useless. On the other hand, telling her otherwise was also useless.
She just so happened to be in our class as well. (Go figure, right?) And I swear, as soon as Tweek and I walked through the doorway, hand-in-hand with Tweek blabbing about whatever he thought was important, the fucking whole room grew silent.
We were granted the chance of being in a mixed classroom full of students from all four years. Many of them not quite used to my going against conformity. Wendy Testaburger happened to be the first one to speak aloud.
"Craig Tucker, you have yet to amaze me. Just what the hell is this?! What the hell do you think you're wearing today? Yet another female article you're taking away from us girls. We don't appreciate it. I speak for every girl in this room. You're belittling us! What message are you trying to state?! It doesn't make any sense!"
Wendy has this thing where whenever she gets enraged, she decides to stand up from her seat. Acting like it makes so much more of a difference.
Lazily, I replied with the middle finger then pulled Tweek along behind me as we made our way to the back of the room. "Fuck off, Wendy."
"Language Mr. Tucker." The teacher intervened.
Another thing I hate is the gender labeling I receive. Tweek is probably the only one who participates in keeping the pronouns neutral. I've tried asking my teachers beforehand, tried reasoning with my parents, but they still use the pronouns for the sex I was given. Tweek is also the only one who's accepted shortening my name to the single letter, C. Another way of giving myself that neutral aspect.
The way one perceives gender is always through sex. Try reasoning with a person to attempt explaining why you feel the way you do and they just don't understand. Often they think it's a phase. (Which goes hand-in-hand with sexuailty as well.) Or they think you're doing this for attention. The only ones who truly understand what you're going through being yourself and others similar to you.
Like I mentioned earlier, my town is pretty small. A small dot on the map of Colorado no one ever paid attention to. So the likelihood of having diversity within it is pretty scarce. Many of the residents not taking lightly to a subject that shouldn't mean a thing.
Although, one of the nice things the teacher actually did for me was place me in the back of the room where I wasn't as easy as a target. So she did have sympathy for me on some level.
I pulled my seat out, quietly sitting down while Tweek did the same in front of me. Wendy was still spewing her bullshit but was doing so in a softer manor. Occasionally, I'd receive a death glare from where she sat all the way across the room. Trying my damnedest to ignore her, but it was kind of difficult when I dealt with this plenty of times in this class.
I never quite understood her reasoning. Even to this day. It just seemed Wendy Testaburger had a personal grudge going out against me and it wouldn't die until she felt justice was served.
Sweat was just pouring out of me. Coating the pits of my thin white blouse. At this rate, I'd be smelling the same way my mom did after she finished a workout. It was only fifteen minutes into the period, and I already wanted to go home. We were learning about the civil war in America. A topic I already knew about and wasn't much in the mood to go over it once again. Instead of jotting down the notes like everyone in class, I leaned back in my seat. Crossing my arms over my covered chest, then closing my eyes; listening to the teacher drone on.
I wish I could say this day of my ninth grade went easy going. But it wasn't anything of the likes. Which I guess I should have expected.
I was lying on the ground. It was cold and hard against my naked skin. Nothing covered my chest at all, not the white blouse nor the wrap my mother owned. In fact, the wrap was ripped in two lying beside me. I clutched the thin blouse between frail fingers. Staring straight forward at a dull wall as the lights kept flickering slightly. The smell of blood reeked. I needed to get out of here, but in all honestly I didn't want to. Didn't want to walk out and automatically have multiple sets of eyes my way. The time was coming anyway. It was only third period. Another class would be making their way down here soon enough.
I wanted to cry. Wanted to feel the comfort of tears running down my cheeks, land on the floor next to me, to become a part of the grime. But I couldn't even bring myself to do a simple task like that. I'm pathetic; that's all there is to it.
A door opening could be heard against the silence I was consumed by. This was the moment I was waiting for. Some unruly bastard would come to the decision on whether they wanted to help my pathetic ass or not. This person just so happened to be Kenny McCormick.
I've never really associated with him before then. He was one of those individuals that kept quiet for the most part. All I knew about Kenny was that he was still pretty good friends with Stan Marsh. The two of them a part of his four-man group.
Today Kenny wore a simple white t-shirt and acid wash jeans. Blonde hair just grazing his shoulders covered in natural grease. Acne covered the rounds of his cheeks giving them an overall red tint. Baby blue eyes shined down at me, they smiled without his mouth doing the extra work. All I could do was stare back at him. Hoping the plea in my own dark brown eyes was enough of a message for him.
"Well if it isn't Craig Tucker. What the hell happened to you?" His voice was too loud for the silence I was used to. I closed my eyes while her spoke to me then opened them again once the blonde finished.
My fingers gripped tighter on the fabric in hand. Not knowing much about Kenny, I worried about the kind of person he was.
"Cat gotcha' tongue?" He laughed lightly then kneeled down by my face. "You look battered and you're half naked. Couldn't have been anything good, I'm guessin'. C'mon, how bout I help you out…"
I nodded, trying to smile as well but failed in the end.
Kenny's hand touched the small of my back rubbing it softly. I could feel the roughness of his calloused fingers running along my skin. He grabbed my waist rolling me over so I was now lying on my back. Staring at one of the flickering overhead lights. The blonde was trying to pry my fingers of the torn shirt, trying to take my hands in his own so he could pull me up to my feet.
My ribs ached. Pain was strongly on my left side. The movements I was making only made the pain worst. I cried out. My voice cracking and piercing my ear drums. The door was heard opening again. Footsteps followed as they made their way towards Kenny and I. Once in our view I noticed one person being the P.E teacher; the other a student I didn't recognize.
"Jesus Christ, what happened to you, Tucker?" The teacher belted. Normally I was afraid of him. He towered over most students and was built in a strong fashion. Standing next to me he looked like a giant. Which was what I referred to him as most of the time. (Although never to his face, because I was still scared.)
"They haven't said a word, Sir." Kenny replied. He was now attempting to walk me out of the locker room. One arm held around my waist guiding me and giving the support I needed.
My skin was freezing. I looked down to where Kenny's fingers wrapped around my small waist. His skin was so much whiter than mine. Looking like porcelain China next to my caramel coloured skin. I took notice of two small freckles on his knuckles which I became interested in and focused most of my attention to try to take away from the pain.
"He's gonna have to talk sooner or later." The Giant said. Trailing behind me and the blonde. I realized the student wasn't anywhere in sight, but that was the least of my worries.
What The Giant said echoed in my eardrums. 'Talk sooner or later.' I didn't want to say a word about what happened. I wanted to keep the incident to myself. I didn't want trouble and that's exactly what would happen if I came out and told who kicked my ass in the boys' locker room. They would have a personal vendetta against me and my life would become worse than it already is.
Opening my mouth, I gasped then tried to speak. "I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I just… tripped on one of the benches while trying to get dressed." All I could surface was a whisper, but I still got my voice to where it was heard.
"Tripped? Boy, don't go spewing lies. That's unlikely, and besides your fruity little shirt is torn apart. Care to explain that one?"
I couldn't. Didn't even try to. Instead I sighed and set my head on Kenny's shoulder. My cheek was lying on a few strands of his greasy blonde hair and I had to fight the urge to cringe.
"We can worry about it later, Craig. Bet your happy I found you though ain't cha?" I couldn't see it, but I'm pretty sure Kenny was smiling.
So I went ahead and smiled back, even though I'm sure Kenny couldn't see mine as well.
I didn't tell my parents about the incident. I went home in a simple polo I was given by the school's office covered by my favourite jacket. As soon as I entered the front door, I went straight up to my room. Turning the lock so no one could enter, then stripped myself of my top articles. A full length mirror was on my closet door, as I walked over to it, I noticed purple bruising beginning to form on my light brown ribcage.
I didn't ask for what happened. I was minding my own business, happy to have gotten over the hell known as physical education. I had just slipped on my mother's black wrap and was starting to put on the blouse I adored. My eyes were set on trying to button the piece when a harsh strike was hit at my back. Pushing me down right away. I didn't get a good look at the person who then began kicking at my body as it laid helplessly on the cold, locker room ground. Another, who decided to use their hands instead, grabbed for the clothing on my chest and torn them at first grasp. I cried out as I heard the fabric tear so easily. I was going to have to buy mom another wrap for her workouts.
Not once did I try to protest as the event happened, nor did the others who were down there with us. They pretended it wasn't happening. They acted like they didn't hear my cries as another kick was thrust into my ribs, a soft cracking bouncing off the lockers. What they thought was if they intervened they'd be beat themselves. And that wouldn't be fair in their eyes. So I watched as one-by-one, bodies left the locker room. Ignoring my silent pleas and acting as though it wasn't happening to begin with.
Fingers grabbing my hair right at the scalp was the last deed that would be done. My head left the ground for a spilt second only to meet it once again. My teeth catching my bottom lip in the process, biting down as it hit the tile. Blood spewing into my mouth followed by leaking out slowly.
I can't even bring myself to repeat what they said to me during the whole process. I normally try not to. It's worse than the physically part. Wasn't the phrase: "Stick and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me."? Whoever came up with that saying was a straight laced bullshitter. Words were what hurt the most. They were far worse than any other damage done to me.
Tweek called me that night. Multiple times. But I never answered. I couldn't bring myself to do so. I didn't even talk to him before I left school early when the nurse said I could go home. I knew Tweek was worried about me and I was only feeding the emotion. But I needed time to myself. Time to relive the incident over and over again. Until I fell asleep crying fresh tears onto my pillow.