Surprisingly, Blaine doesn't mention Nathan the whole drive home. Instead, he decides to bring up this delicate subject right before I'm about to go to sleep.
"What are you going to do about He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?" he asks, right in the middle of my teeth-brushing routine. It's simple really, scrub the bottom molars, then the outside of the front teeth, top molars, and finally, inside of the front teeth. This is why the dentists like me, because they don't have to do much work to keep my teeth clean.
"You can call him Nathan, Lilly's love has protected us from his magical sense of hearing," I reply. God, I love Harry Potter references.
"Alright then. What are you going to do about Nathan?"
"Nothing. He's just another person standing by while I rule the school," I say, overconfident and proud of it.
"I'll tell you something, though. He sounds like a butt."
I think about it. Yeah, I decide. He is a butt. "I guess he can be. Don't know why I ever liked him. Clearly he doesn't give a crap about me," I say, and spit out a load of toothpaste into the sink.
"And that is what makes him certifiably insane, because you are completely amazing. Don't forget it," he tells me. I grin, glad I'm not one of those people who can honestly say they hate their brother.
"Well, I'm going to bed," he says and moon-walks out of the bathroom.
"When you dream about Kurt, don't forget to tell him I said hi!" I call after him.
He runs back in and tickles me for about half a second, causing me to fall to the floor in a fit of laughter. Then, he runs back to his room. "No fair!" I yell, but Blaine has already shut his door. I clean up the toothpaste I accidentally sprayed on the floor and head to bed, too. I try not to think about Nathan for too long, but fail. My last thought is how jealous he'll be when I'm a famous actress or singer or writer or something, because he had the chance to snag this long ago. I fall asleep quickly after thinking this.
My dream is not even remotely meaningful. I dream that I'm at a party… with brooms, Swiffers, and mops. They form a circle and dance all around me, and for some reason I find this hilarious. Eventually, Dad comes and wakes me up, asking if I was crying. I tell him that, no, I was laughing because the brooms were such funny dancers. Apparently, Blaine finds this funny, too, because I recall him standing at the door, chuckling.
During my return to school the next day, I try to stay as incognito as possible. No doubt the rumor mill has been up and running again, and Nathan and I are at the heart of it. I don't ask questions in class and I don't talk to anyone besides my imaginary friend. His name is George. I made him up yesterday, just in case no one approached me that I could socialize with.
Unfortunately, my plans don't as well as I originally hoped. A recess, I am confronted by Ashley, Nathan's new "girlfriend". She seems pretty pissed off that I cared so much about him hurting me.
"Have fun in Pussy-Land this weekend? I knew you couldn't take a joke," she accuses me.
"Go away, Ashley. I'm really not in the mood."
"I bet you're not. But I am. And I'm here to tell you to back off of my man, okay?" she says, trying to provoke me. It really amazes me that she's so defensive about a guy she's been dating for a day, when she's in eighth grade. I mean really, people. Don't we all know that they'll break up in a month, tops?
"Trust me, I wouldn't dream of hitting on him. I can do better," I tell her, then start walking away.
"Thanks. Good luck being a homo!" she yells at me. I stop in my tracks, fists clenched. I don't care if she insults me, but when she makes a gay joke… Oh, it's on, bitches.
"What?" I say, turning to face her.
"I said, good luck with your homosexuality. If you're nice, I might even sign you up for that Gays Anonymous Club. Just to cure you of your disease," she says, smiling. Of course, she doesn't know that Blaine's gay, so it's not necessarily directed toward him, but my anger is still stronger than ever.
I slowly walk up to her and laugh quietly. "You know, you think being a bitch makes you more, let's see, desirable? Well, it doesn't. It just insures that you will never get anywhere in life. Ever. So I'll see you at Wendy's. Try and get my order right." With that, I turn around and walk away, my gaze held firmly in the direction I'm going, trying to control myself as I push past people to get away from here.
I lock myself in the janitor's closet, which is the nearest hiding place I can find. I sit down, tears forming in the corners of my eyes. I could just beat that sad excuse for a human being senseless right now. I should probably go to a teacher about this, but there's really no point. I don't want to be bullied anymore because I "can't take a joke".
I decide to stay in the closet for the rest of the day, until the janitor finds me when the final bell rings. He almost gets upset and reports me, but see's that my eyes are red and lets me off the hook. He says he'll tell anyone who asks that I was throwing up in there.
I thank him and go quickly to the parking lot, where I see Blaine waiting outside his car for me. At least it's him, not Dad, who's picking me up today. I don't think I could stand anymore homophobia.
"Hey, where've you been? I was waiting for fifteen minutes!" he says light-heartedly. Without answering, I get in the car and slam the door. Blaine comes around into the driver's seat cautiously.
"Are you okay?" he asks, genuinely concerned.
"Someone wished me good luck at being a homo today," I tell him. For the rest of the drive, it is silent.