Note: This chapter reads really well if you read it while listening to Depeche Mode's "Never Let Me Down Again." Don't watch the video, it's boring.
Carly had, inbetween bouts of drunkenness and cold hard hangovers, passed out on the couch. He’d spent the last few days since the confession in bed, without speaking or eating. Gentry wondered if he was passed out, dead, or just didn’t want to get up. Maybe he wanted to sleep and never wake up again. But upon seeing him sprawled out on the couch, Gentry concluded that he was still alive enough to move and let him sit down.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“What day is it?” Carly rasped out, propping himself up onto his elbows.
“June 1st.”
The TV screen was flickering and illuminating the dark as Gentry took his seat.
The announcer’s voice blared over the television, sharp and haughty. Patronizing taste and hearing in a single bound.
“Ironically, I am able to empathize with some of the individuals I have interviewed today. We have all have faced tragedy and loss in our lives. We all have scars from our personal battles - we have all felt alone and scared. Right now, the people of the Congo are fighting for their very existence.”
“You smell like sex.” Carly muttered.
The TV blared on, uninterrupted.
“We are born into our many beliefs, shapes and colors. We are all different and yet so very similar, and therefore we cannot be silent and accept the torture and murder of our fellow humans. We must tell all those who seek to harm others and specifically now those committing genocide in Africa--- we see your sins. We will stop you and you will pay!”
Gentry sneered back a laugh and chucked a piece of popcorn at the screen.
Carly laughed half-heartedly, “Go live in Africa if you care so much.”
He reached for another beer, then then bitterly grumbled under his breath, “Us fucking Americans can’t even help each other, who are we to stop this? Noooo one helps anyone for free. If I were Africa, Iiiii’d shoot the Americans. Bang, bang…”
His voice slurred off, and he downed another beer.
“Ughhhh… my head hurts. Wanna forget this, but don’t remember what I did last week. Did I say anything interesting?”
“No.” Gentry lied.
“Hm.” Carly sat up, and stumbled to the fridge for another beer. He stopped in his tracks, then heavily spun around and asked, more out of curiosity than concern, “What happened to your face?”
“Got bored.”
“Yeah, don’t you always.”
He slogged off to the kitchen returned flush-faced from the effort, tripped over himself, then groggily pulled himself off the floor and onto the couch.
“Do you want to see me drink myself to death?” he asked up at Gentry.
“I don’t want to see you. But I wouldn’t mind if you did.”
Carly chugged it down then slammed it onto the table, falling back spread-eagled onto the couch.
“Funny.”
Gentry ignored him and continued to watch the TV screen.
Carly leered over at him, taking in with his eyes what his fingers would never touch. What a strange combination. Soft lips and a hard body, boyish freckles and old eyes. That was what disturbed him as well as thrilled him, the eyes of an old man on a young one. And not just any old man. They had the same shape, the same hellish intensity, they were the eyes of a rapist.
And whenever he met their gaze, it sent a little jolt of fear through him; hurt him where nothing else could. But it hurt so good, kindled a flame that took away the numbing cold in his heart.
It flickered contently, slowly spreading until the warmth burned into a manly fury, igniting the will to destroy the monster and transfer his own fear and hatred into those dark amber pits.
He took another swig of beer and wiped his mouth, and spoke up to fill in the ghostly silence where a war should have been.
“I wish you’d drink… don’t know why you don’t. For a while, I thought you were addicted to sex.”
“With what?” Gentry scoffed, shoving him away.
“With… mmpf… Zach. I didn’t think you were into… that kind of thing... black guys.”
“There’s a category for that?”
“No shit there’s a category for everything. He’s black.”
“He’s Estonian.”
“That isn’t a race.”
Gentry paused with a perplexed look on his face, then shrugged and leaned back into the seat, “Who cares?”
“You should know what you’re poking your dick into.”
“I’m poking my dick into a fine piece of ass with a mouth that’s more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Yeah, why don’t you tell him that.”
“He knows.” Gentry took a sip of beer, “That’s the problem. He always knows what I’m thinking.”
That said, he turned his attention to the TV, slouching slightly and reflexively folding his arms over his slouched stomach.
It was a cute, childish way to sit, something that Carly was quietly charmed by. Those little things held him back. They reminded him that if he destroyed the monster, he would also destroy a part of himself.
Gentry wasn’t thinking of anything except for what he said. He thought in sensations rather than words, understanding the subtleties of speech and eye contact over anything else. What him a good liar also made him distant and preoccupied, distracted by his own awareness. He felt words, he didn’t hear them. And when he wasn’t talking, he let the warm, hazy glow of emotions wash over him, nothing else in his mind except for an occasional image or a large word that stretched and pulled, morphing, shifting, growing larger and larger until it fucked something hard, fast...
He didn’t know or care to know what Carly was thinking. Probably that was for the better.
“Have you ever seen anyone from Estonia,” Carly murmured, downing the can, “besides Zach?”
“One Estonian’s enough.”
“Do you know where Estonia is?”
“I don’t care.”
“You should. It’s between Russia and Sweden.”
“Who cares,” Gentry sighed irritably, “it’s all a big blob of land, and I’ve never been to South America or wherever Estonia is. I don’t care about people here, why should I care about people there?”
Carly thought for a moment, then laughed dimly, “South America? What the fuck? Estonia, Russia, and Sweden aren’t in South America. They’re in Eastern Europe. Even I know that, and I’m drunk.”
“Fine. I don’t care, I’m not going there.”
“Man, how can you be from Alabama and not know what a black guy looks like? Do you even know which side the Pacific Ocean’s on?”
Gentry ignored him.
“Come on Gentry, tell me. What continent’s China on?”
Gentry didn’t reply to this either, preferring the awkward peace that lingered. Carly moved close to him, and Gentry scooted away.
“Where’s Alabama? The North or the South?”
He maintained his sheepish silence, until Carly pulled away and declared,
“You don’t know, do you?”
“Why should I know. It’s all just dirt.”
“How did you even pass geography?”
“I cheated.”
Friday, May 9, 2008
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 15: Part 6
They hadn’t exchanged a word, just a feeling and some body fluids.
The mess was gone now, but in a way it wasn’t. The memory was sticky inbetween his thoughts, a mess in his mind. Unlike a word, this was something unforgettable, uninterruptible, inexcusable… and the only two witnesses were locked in an unspoken understanding of silence.
Silence. He’d hoped for it, peering down at the other’s dark eyes while uncomfortably perched up against the sink. Where a lively amber had once been, there was now just shineless, unearthly dark. Natural and unnatural at the same time, and as perplexing as a black hole.
Then it was gone.
Zach toyed around with what they might have said if the breath hadn’t been knocked from their lungs, maybe something like,
I have a boyfriend.
Yeah? Where’s he now?
Well.
He was outside of the boys lockeroom, waiting. Hand on one hip, sleek pink-and-blue gift bag on the other, the sunlight glinting off his smooth auburn hair. The sole of one of his red sneakers was, unsconsciously, grinding into the dirt. Class had ended an hour ago, swim practice had too, any minute now…
Grinding a hole into the dirt.
He stopped the moment Zach strode through the double doors, promenading over to pull him into a long, hot-blooded kiss.
A few girls giggled and one guy yelled out “faggot!”
Still others peered onwards, Kylie in particular. The members of the Senior Swim team walked by with averted eyes and disgusted scowls.
“I got something for you.” Mikey announced loudly, pulling out a glossy gift bag.
Zach received it with a warily arched eyebrow, visibly unnerved.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked, pulling out a stuffed animal--- a fluffy pink blob that resembled a pig. It was amazing what passed for a stuffed animal these days.
“I’m too old for stuffed animals.”
Mikey laughed his hesitant, tired-eyed laugh and drawled, “Hey, yeah. I’m sorry you didn’t win, and I heard you were having a bad day.”
Zach gave a wordless nod, turning the pig over in his hands. What good was this nonsense?
“They say men are pigs. I am… I'm intelligent when you don't expect it, cleaner than most people think, but most of all... I really want to be your plushie."
“You want to be a toy I play with and toss aside?”
He glanced boredly at the at the grinning boy with the outstretched arms. The expected hug followed soon after, with Mikey pulling Zach to his chest, and Zach accepting it stiffly, reluctantly raising his arms to meet him. And when it was over, Kylie swayed over to their side and raised her voice in pitch,
“Hiiiii Mikey. Zach.”
She reached out to pet the pig, “This is sooo cute. Where did you find that?”
“It’s a secret.”
“Casey thinks you’re taking him to the prom.”
“Yeah,” Mikey slung his arm over Zach’s shoulders, “If he wants to. But you better show up, I’m helping out.”
“No, really? What’s the theme?”
“It’s a secret. But hey, who are you bringing with you to the prom, Kylie?”
She smiled, and the sunlight flickered over her thick, crusty concealer to unforgivingly reveal the freckles underneath.
“I’m thinking of asking Gentry.”
Zach went rigid at the very mention of the name. This went unnoticed by both parties.
“Gentry?” Mikey asked while leering at her, glossy-green eyes glazing over. He looked her up and down, and smiled hesitantly at the first glimpse of the stark brown dots underneath her make-up, “Ohh. Interesting.”
“Interesting? Is there something you’re not telling me?” she laughed nervously.
“Oh. No, no, nothing at all... he has so many freckles.”
Kylie self-consciously turned her face, and laughed a bit too loudly, “He does. But I think it’s because he doesn’t wear sunscreen. You know, it’s kind of cool that he’s a redhead and a swimmer. Redheads burn up in sunlight.” She turned to Zach, “If at all, you’ve got the natural advantage. I just want to find out if Gentry’s gay or straight. If he’s straight, people should know. And if he’s gay, he could use a confidante.”
“Yeahhh.” Zach smiled at her limply.
Mikey added, “Okay, bye Kylie.”
He took Zach’s hand and walked away just as Kylie shouted after them, “Bye lovebirds!”
The mess was gone now, but in a way it wasn’t. The memory was sticky inbetween his thoughts, a mess in his mind. Unlike a word, this was something unforgettable, uninterruptible, inexcusable… and the only two witnesses were locked in an unspoken understanding of silence.
Silence. He’d hoped for it, peering down at the other’s dark eyes while uncomfortably perched up against the sink. Where a lively amber had once been, there was now just shineless, unearthly dark. Natural and unnatural at the same time, and as perplexing as a black hole.
Then it was gone.
Zach toyed around with what they might have said if the breath hadn’t been knocked from their lungs, maybe something like,
I have a boyfriend.
Yeah? Where’s he now?
Well.
He was outside of the boys lockeroom, waiting. Hand on one hip, sleek pink-and-blue gift bag on the other, the sunlight glinting off his smooth auburn hair. The sole of one of his red sneakers was, unsconsciously, grinding into the dirt. Class had ended an hour ago, swim practice had too, any minute now…
Grinding a hole into the dirt.
He stopped the moment Zach strode through the double doors, promenading over to pull him into a long, hot-blooded kiss.
A few girls giggled and one guy yelled out “faggot!”
Still others peered onwards, Kylie in particular. The members of the Senior Swim team walked by with averted eyes and disgusted scowls.
“I got something for you.” Mikey announced loudly, pulling out a glossy gift bag.
Zach received it with a warily arched eyebrow, visibly unnerved.
“What’s the occasion?” he asked, pulling out a stuffed animal--- a fluffy pink blob that resembled a pig. It was amazing what passed for a stuffed animal these days.
“I’m too old for stuffed animals.”
Mikey laughed his hesitant, tired-eyed laugh and drawled, “Hey, yeah. I’m sorry you didn’t win, and I heard you were having a bad day.”
Zach gave a wordless nod, turning the pig over in his hands. What good was this nonsense?
“They say men are pigs. I am… I'm intelligent when you don't expect it, cleaner than most people think, but most of all... I really want to be your plushie."
“You want to be a toy I play with and toss aside?”
He glanced boredly at the at the grinning boy with the outstretched arms. The expected hug followed soon after, with Mikey pulling Zach to his chest, and Zach accepting it stiffly, reluctantly raising his arms to meet him. And when it was over, Kylie swayed over to their side and raised her voice in pitch,
“Hiiiii Mikey. Zach.”
She reached out to pet the pig, “This is sooo cute. Where did you find that?”
“It’s a secret.”
“Casey thinks you’re taking him to the prom.”
“Yeah,” Mikey slung his arm over Zach’s shoulders, “If he wants to. But you better show up, I’m helping out.”
“No, really? What’s the theme?”
“It’s a secret. But hey, who are you bringing with you to the prom, Kylie?”
She smiled, and the sunlight flickered over her thick, crusty concealer to unforgivingly reveal the freckles underneath.
“I’m thinking of asking Gentry.”
Zach went rigid at the very mention of the name. This went unnoticed by both parties.
“Gentry?” Mikey asked while leering at her, glossy-green eyes glazing over. He looked her up and down, and smiled hesitantly at the first glimpse of the stark brown dots underneath her make-up, “Ohh. Interesting.”
“Interesting? Is there something you’re not telling me?” she laughed nervously.
“Oh. No, no, nothing at all... he has so many freckles.”
Kylie self-consciously turned her face, and laughed a bit too loudly, “He does. But I think it’s because he doesn’t wear sunscreen. You know, it’s kind of cool that he’s a redhead and a swimmer. Redheads burn up in sunlight.” She turned to Zach, “If at all, you’ve got the natural advantage. I just want to find out if Gentry’s gay or straight. If he’s straight, people should know. And if he’s gay, he could use a confidante.”
“Yeahhh.” Zach smiled at her limply.
Mikey added, “Okay, bye Kylie.”
He took Zach’s hand and walked away just as Kylie shouted after them, “Bye lovebirds!”
Sunday, May 4, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 15: Part 5
Sydney stood in the doorway with the lost, confused, and wide-eyed look of a choirboy in hell.
“Mr.Handson said…” his voice trailed off, and Gentry limply dropped his hand.
“Fuck off.” he murmured in grim reply.
“… What are you guys doing in here?”
Sydney boiled for an explanation, yearned for some kind manly denial… anything but what the throbbing feeling in his gut told him was true.
Real men didn’t just… had he seen right? Normal guys didn’t do those things… did they? That was gay.
“Not your business.” Zach shot brazenly, yet pulling away for good measure.
“Leave.” Gentry echoed firmly, pulling him back against him.
Sydney looked them both over, then wordlessly stormed out the door.
Zach sighed in unsteady relief and tensely murmured an apology, his heart throbbing as Gentry slowly looked him over, dark eyes taking in a clenched fist and wary expression. Strong enough to stay, but weak enough to betray fear.
They exchanged anxious, lingering stares, but didn’t say a word as the silence spoke for them. It was hard to talk when your brain and your heart were fighting over your mouth, and the excited ringing in your ears blocked out any coherent thought.
Without a word, Gentry dropped to his knees and hooked his thumbs into the waistline of Zach’s jeans. He undid the belt and fly, tensely listening for the soft, nervous hitch of Zach’s breath. Instead he gave him an awkward shove, only to be forcefully pushed back against the sink.
“Mr.Handson said…” his voice trailed off, and Gentry limply dropped his hand.
“Fuck off.” he murmured in grim reply.
“… What are you guys doing in here?”
Sydney boiled for an explanation, yearned for some kind manly denial… anything but what the throbbing feeling in his gut told him was true.
Real men didn’t just… had he seen right? Normal guys didn’t do those things… did they? That was gay.
“Not your business.” Zach shot brazenly, yet pulling away for good measure.
“Leave.” Gentry echoed firmly, pulling him back against him.
Sydney looked them both over, then wordlessly stormed out the door.
Zach sighed in unsteady relief and tensely murmured an apology, his heart throbbing as Gentry slowly looked him over, dark eyes taking in a clenched fist and wary expression. Strong enough to stay, but weak enough to betray fear.
They exchanged anxious, lingering stares, but didn’t say a word as the silence spoke for them. It was hard to talk when your brain and your heart were fighting over your mouth, and the excited ringing in your ears blocked out any coherent thought.
Without a word, Gentry dropped to his knees and hooked his thumbs into the waistline of Zach’s jeans. He undid the belt and fly, tensely listening for the soft, nervous hitch of Zach’s breath. Instead he gave him an awkward shove, only to be forcefully pushed back against the sink.
Friday, May 2, 2008
Because You Suck: Chapter 15: Part 4
The faucet dripped into the sink, soundlessly falling against gray fiberglass.
So, Gentry thought to himself, he’d guessed correctly. It was the stall on the far-left side--- pushed right into the corner. The kind of stall you’d overlook at first glance, since most people used the middle ones. It was, however, the most obvious choice if you knew what you were looking for.
“If you’re going to stay here, Handson said he’ll mark you as a cut.”
With a loud bang the bathroom door swung open and Zach charged on out. He turned the faucet, and cupped his hands under it.
As the door loudly dribbled shut, Gentry watched as Zach glumly splashed his face with the cold water and frantically rubbed his eyes.
“You were so cocky in the classroom. Why are you hiding in the bathroom?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you came here to hide, too.”
“I don’t need a bathroom stall to hide.”
No reply. Just the sound of a faucet running and paper towels being ripped from the dispenser. Rushed and angry, but not as self-indulgent as slamming the stall door.
Gentry subtly tilted his his head to steal a glance at his eyes, to discern what words could not say. He knew Zach wouldn’t supply an answer if asked, and that he wasn’t in any position to demand one.
So in frustration, he gripped Zach’s shoulders and brazenly slid a hand up one cheek.
“You better not be crying. Do you have any idea who’s out there?”
He finally had him where he wanted, that proud angry face turned to him. But he barely swiped a glance when a fist connected to his jaw, hurling him back against the bathroom door he just barely caught on to. His heart was pounding and his face searing red as a cold sweat drenched the back of his neck.
He cursed.
Rubbed the side of his face as it swelled up, and glared reproachfully as Zach, who was standing open-mouthed and wide-eyed in the corner. Shaken but not submissive.
Their heavy breathing came in wary intervals, then just barely in unison.
The only other sound came from the slowly dripping faucet, the hollow trickle slowly turning into a pencil-thin stream against the plexiglass. Zach closed his mouth firmly, and Gentry stormed up to him. He menacingly fixed his eyes on him and tersely raised a hand, only to drop it again when Zach flinched.
Enough already.
He gave him a firm hard look. There were so many things he could say, so many things on his mind, but none fit, none worked. Here was this cornered, angry, frightened, boyish wonder, watching him as if waiting for the slap he deserved. What could you say to that?
So he kept his silence and raised that same hand, using the moment Zach flinched to instead carress the side of his face, and cup it before gently placing a kiss on his lips.
Bang!
The door suddenly thrust open, and light flooded in.
So, Gentry thought to himself, he’d guessed correctly. It was the stall on the far-left side--- pushed right into the corner. The kind of stall you’d overlook at first glance, since most people used the middle ones. It was, however, the most obvious choice if you knew what you were looking for.
“If you’re going to stay here, Handson said he’ll mark you as a cut.”
With a loud bang the bathroom door swung open and Zach charged on out. He turned the faucet, and cupped his hands under it.
As the door loudly dribbled shut, Gentry watched as Zach glumly splashed his face with the cold water and frantically rubbed his eyes.
“You were so cocky in the classroom. Why are you hiding in the bathroom?”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you came here to hide, too.”
“I don’t need a bathroom stall to hide.”
No reply. Just the sound of a faucet running and paper towels being ripped from the dispenser. Rushed and angry, but not as self-indulgent as slamming the stall door.
Gentry subtly tilted his his head to steal a glance at his eyes, to discern what words could not say. He knew Zach wouldn’t supply an answer if asked, and that he wasn’t in any position to demand one.
So in frustration, he gripped Zach’s shoulders and brazenly slid a hand up one cheek.
“You better not be crying. Do you have any idea who’s out there?”
He finally had him where he wanted, that proud angry face turned to him. But he barely swiped a glance when a fist connected to his jaw, hurling him back against the bathroom door he just barely caught on to. His heart was pounding and his face searing red as a cold sweat drenched the back of his neck.
He cursed.
Rubbed the side of his face as it swelled up, and glared reproachfully as Zach, who was standing open-mouthed and wide-eyed in the corner. Shaken but not submissive.
Their heavy breathing came in wary intervals, then just barely in unison.
The only other sound came from the slowly dripping faucet, the hollow trickle slowly turning into a pencil-thin stream against the plexiglass. Zach closed his mouth firmly, and Gentry stormed up to him. He menacingly fixed his eyes on him and tersely raised a hand, only to drop it again when Zach flinched.
Enough already.
He gave him a firm hard look. There were so many things he could say, so many things on his mind, but none fit, none worked. Here was this cornered, angry, frightened, boyish wonder, watching him as if waiting for the slap he deserved. What could you say to that?
So he kept his silence and raised that same hand, using the moment Zach flinched to instead carress the side of his face, and cup it before gently placing a kiss on his lips.
Bang!
The door suddenly thrust open, and light flooded in.
Because You Suck: Chapter 15: Part 3
The rows of identical buildings fell behind him, and if it weren’t for the sky and the cracks in the asphalt, it would have been hard to tell if he was moving at all. The sun stood at high noon, gleaming with a drowsy yet feverish intensity.
The sun gleamed at high noon, hot and sallow as a fever. Occasionally a seagull would soar across the horizon, swooping onto the rooftops to perch on the ledge and peer down.
Gentry wasn’t sure why he’d volunteered to go, or what he’d expect. The only thing he was certain of was that it was god damn hot.
He sauntered through the identical rows of flat, blue-brick classrooms that made up the school, keeping his eyes glued to his feet to check if he was moving.
Everything went by too slowly.
Occasionally a lone student or an office worker would patrol by with a walky-talkie in hand, making their rounds to ensure order. Some girl shuffled by, head and shoulders lowered as she nudged a textbook across the dusty ground with the tip of her shoe. It wasn’t long before Nasty stormed to her, roughly pulled her shoulders back bellowing “No no no,” and demanded to know why she was mistreating a piece of school property, sternly reminding her that the fine for a textbook was eighty dollars and, if those were not paid, a Delinquency on her permanent record.
Gentry walked past her, sharply turning into the cafeteria and pushing open the bathroom door. The neat blue stalls all lined up, spotless, lifeless and clean.
He swiped a look underneath the doors, before figuring that Zach probably had his feet on the seat.
“I know you’re in here.”
This was stupid.
Leaning against the door of the far-left stall, he let the seconds roll by.Then, he exhaled forcefully. Crossed his arms impatiently, debating with himself over word choice, before deciding that there was no particularily subtle way to put this.
“I have better things to do than fish you out of here.”
The answer came briskly, a soft yet strained attempt at a comeback:
“… then why did you come?”
“Would you prefer Sydney?”
The sun gleamed at high noon, hot and sallow as a fever. Occasionally a seagull would soar across the horizon, swooping onto the rooftops to perch on the ledge and peer down.
Gentry wasn’t sure why he’d volunteered to go, or what he’d expect. The only thing he was certain of was that it was god damn hot.
He sauntered through the identical rows of flat, blue-brick classrooms that made up the school, keeping his eyes glued to his feet to check if he was moving.
Everything went by too slowly.
Occasionally a lone student or an office worker would patrol by with a walky-talkie in hand, making their rounds to ensure order. Some girl shuffled by, head and shoulders lowered as she nudged a textbook across the dusty ground with the tip of her shoe. It wasn’t long before Nasty stormed to her, roughly pulled her shoulders back bellowing “No no no,” and demanded to know why she was mistreating a piece of school property, sternly reminding her that the fine for a textbook was eighty dollars and, if those were not paid, a Delinquency on her permanent record.
Gentry walked past her, sharply turning into the cafeteria and pushing open the bathroom door. The neat blue stalls all lined up, spotless, lifeless and clean.
He swiped a look underneath the doors, before figuring that Zach probably had his feet on the seat.
“I know you’re in here.”
This was stupid.
Leaning against the door of the far-left stall, he let the seconds roll by.Then, he exhaled forcefully. Crossed his arms impatiently, debating with himself over word choice, before deciding that there was no particularily subtle way to put this.
“I have better things to do than fish you out of here.”
The answer came briskly, a soft yet strained attempt at a comeback:
“… then why did you come?”
“Would you prefer Sydney?”
Because You Suck: Chapter 15: Part 2
Gentry flinched as the door slammed shut.
If the class wasn’t talking about him before, they were now.
Well. That was stupid. You might as well draw a big red circle with an arrow saying ‘kick me’ on your Achilles heel. Was he nuts?
The corners of his mouth turned up into a barely-there smirk.
Well, yes. You’d have to be crazy to jump on Mr.Handson’s table.
“Does anybody know if he’s coming back?” Mr.Handson asked dully over the barrage of conversation, religiously spraying and scrubbing his beloved desk, only pausing to pick his attendance sheet up with one of his meaty hands. One student yelled out:
“Nahh, he’s friggin’ crazy!”
The class roared with laughter.
Gentry felt an odd, sinking feeling in his chest, and averted his eyes to the floor. They didn’t get it, chances are they never would.
“Well… If anyone knows where he is, let him know that I’ve marked him down as a cut.”
“He’s probably in the bathroom,” guffawed Sydney, “I saw him eat in there once. Want me to get ‘em?”
Mr.Handson opened his mouth to reply, just as Gentry promptly rose to his feet and said,
“I’ll get him.”
If the class wasn’t talking about him before, they were now.
Well. That was stupid. You might as well draw a big red circle with an arrow saying ‘kick me’ on your Achilles heel. Was he nuts?
The corners of his mouth turned up into a barely-there smirk.
Well, yes. You’d have to be crazy to jump on Mr.Handson’s table.
“Does anybody know if he’s coming back?” Mr.Handson asked dully over the barrage of conversation, religiously spraying and scrubbing his beloved desk, only pausing to pick his attendance sheet up with one of his meaty hands. One student yelled out:
“Nahh, he’s friggin’ crazy!”
The class roared with laughter.
Gentry felt an odd, sinking feeling in his chest, and averted his eyes to the floor. They didn’t get it, chances are they never would.
“Well… If anyone knows where he is, let him know that I’ve marked him down as a cut.”
“He’s probably in the bathroom,” guffawed Sydney, “I saw him eat in there once. Want me to get ‘em?”
Mr.Handson opened his mouth to reply, just as Gentry promptly rose to his feet and said,
“I’ll get him.”
Because You Suck: Chapter 15: Part 1
F was a horrible letter.
Fuck. Fat. Flippant. Zach couldn’t think of one good word that started with F. F was the Monday of letters, necessary but disliked. Especially when it glared at him off his report card, printed crisp and clear:
F.
Literature: 59%! Fifty-nine percent also started with an F, and was exactly five letters away from L. L looked a bit like an upside down F, and Literture was like a longer way to say “fuck you!” Zach sighed quietly and turned the report card face down, glaring at the girl who had been leaning in to steal a glance.
What a great day this was turning out to be. Earlier he’d seen some chick cry in the hallway, surrounded by friends. He was filled with the grim realization that there would be no one around if he cried. No, you couldn’t bleed amongst the sharks, you couldn’t afford to show frustration. Especially now, when report cards got in. They always passed them out in Geometry. Every quarter, a new one, straight from the office printer, stamped with a watermark of the Kennedy Knight. The moment those slips of paper landed in the eager hands of their owners, pandemonium broke loose. If they didn’t ask, they stole a glance. Sometimes both. If they were bold enough, they pulled it from your grip and exclaimed something like,
“Wow Gentry! A-!”
The grade determined the hierchy of the classroom. A, B, C, D, F, graded your self-worth and potential as a human being. Your destiny hinged on a code of various letters, and currently that letter was F. Fucking fantabulous.
He leaned back and played it cool, watching the clock. The GSA poster he’d hung there stared back at him mockingly, but his face didn’t show any sign of agitation. That was because showing any sign of frustration, another F word, could be interpreted as a visible side-effect of an F. Then everyone would know.
“Hey Jenny, what do you have… OH! All A’s. You’re so smart! I want to be you!”
“I want to be me too. What do you have? … ohh.”
Zach crumpled the report and slam-dunked it into the trash.
No sooner had he heard the satisfying ker-plunk than Mr.Handson stirred from his seat and promptly exclaimed, “Zach.”
“What.”
The burly discreetly motioned Zach to him.
“I saw you throw away your report card.”
“You have good vision.”
“I want you to see me after class. I have to notify your parents of this as well.”
“Yes sir.” Zach grumbled.
They were staring by now. Ohhh who failed now? Who got owned?
“All right.” Mr.Handson nodded, “Because your grade is not acceptable.”
Now that did it. Zach wondered in vexed frustration whether Mr.Handson had ever been in high school or if he just emerged from his mother’s womb a fat balding guy with a combover and a bad attitude, red F-marking pen clutched in one greasy hand.
“Hey, Mr.Handson. Why don’t you yell it out?”
“Yell what out?”
Zach jumped on the table, “Excuse me everyone! I have an F!”
He jumped back down, and motioned to the trash, “Just like that. By the way, everyone! The rest of my report card is in the trash, where it belongs. Go ahead, look at it!”The class stared at him open-mouthed, murmuring amongst themselves. Zach didn’t linger any longer, storming out the door before Mr.Handson could raise his voice in protest.
Fuck. Fat. Flippant. Zach couldn’t think of one good word that started with F. F was the Monday of letters, necessary but disliked. Especially when it glared at him off his report card, printed crisp and clear:
F.
Literature: 59%! Fifty-nine percent also started with an F, and was exactly five letters away from L. L looked a bit like an upside down F, and Literture was like a longer way to say “fuck you!” Zach sighed quietly and turned the report card face down, glaring at the girl who had been leaning in to steal a glance.
What a great day this was turning out to be. Earlier he’d seen some chick cry in the hallway, surrounded by friends. He was filled with the grim realization that there would be no one around if he cried. No, you couldn’t bleed amongst the sharks, you couldn’t afford to show frustration. Especially now, when report cards got in. They always passed them out in Geometry. Every quarter, a new one, straight from the office printer, stamped with a watermark of the Kennedy Knight. The moment those slips of paper landed in the eager hands of their owners, pandemonium broke loose. If they didn’t ask, they stole a glance. Sometimes both. If they were bold enough, they pulled it from your grip and exclaimed something like,
“Wow Gentry! A-!”
The grade determined the hierchy of the classroom. A, B, C, D, F, graded your self-worth and potential as a human being. Your destiny hinged on a code of various letters, and currently that letter was F. Fucking fantabulous.
He leaned back and played it cool, watching the clock. The GSA poster he’d hung there stared back at him mockingly, but his face didn’t show any sign of agitation. That was because showing any sign of frustration, another F word, could be interpreted as a visible side-effect of an F. Then everyone would know.
“Hey Jenny, what do you have… OH! All A’s. You’re so smart! I want to be you!”
“I want to be me too. What do you have? … ohh.”
Zach crumpled the report and slam-dunked it into the trash.
No sooner had he heard the satisfying ker-plunk than Mr.Handson stirred from his seat and promptly exclaimed, “Zach.”
“What.”
The burly discreetly motioned Zach to him.
“I saw you throw away your report card.”
“You have good vision.”
“I want you to see me after class. I have to notify your parents of this as well.”
“Yes sir.” Zach grumbled.
They were staring by now. Ohhh who failed now? Who got owned?
“All right.” Mr.Handson nodded, “Because your grade is not acceptable.”
Now that did it. Zach wondered in vexed frustration whether Mr.Handson had ever been in high school or if he just emerged from his mother’s womb a fat balding guy with a combover and a bad attitude, red F-marking pen clutched in one greasy hand.
“Hey, Mr.Handson. Why don’t you yell it out?”
“Yell what out?”
Zach jumped on the table, “Excuse me everyone! I have an F!”
He jumped back down, and motioned to the trash, “Just like that. By the way, everyone! The rest of my report card is in the trash, where it belongs. Go ahead, look at it!”The class stared at him open-mouthed, murmuring amongst themselves. Zach didn’t linger any longer, storming out the door before Mr.Handson could raise his voice in protest.
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