Best And Worst of Me - 7. Chapter 7

Quinn sulked the next day at school, keeping an extra sharp eye out for Cameron. Confront him about it? No. But he had to forge something with Cameron. He liked Cameron. A lot. How was Quinn supposed to not see him anymore and be okay with it?

He did manage to find Cameron during lunch. Quinn approached slowly, awkwardly, stomach nervous. “You dropped the class?” He asked, forcing his voice a little louder than the rasp it was in order to be heard over the noise.

Cameron stared at him for a moment before, “You got a problem with that?” He seemed stronger, since he was with friends and decked out in black, violent clothing. A few of the people he sat with shared an exchange of glares with Quinn—some he recognized from Zach’s bullying. And they all knew Cameron was gay, and were still friends with him.

Quinn fumbled to find some excuse as to why he had approached Cameron. Anything he could think of was mean to say—teasing Cameron that he couldn’t handle it, or he would have stayed. But it wasn’t right, and it wasn’t what he wanted to say. Would it be better to confess that it had been him the Friday before? No. Not in front of other people, and… Quinn just couldn’t do it. Honestly, Cameron had every right to spread rumors out of revenge. Quinn couldn’t take that, not like Cameron could. Cameron was stronger that him, in general, even when he was alone it seemed.

“No, I was just… you were my partner,” Quinn answered weakly.

“You don’t like me anyways, you shouldn’t have a problem with it,” Cameron snapped. Another friend looked up from her homework.

“Go fuck your dip shit girlfriend,” She spat.

Now they were ganging up on him. A few more obscenities were flung at him before Quinn took off in a panic. He found an out of the way bathroom and locked himself in one of only two stalls, leaning against the side and holding onto his worry stone. If it got out he was gay, even they might not accept him. He had still been horrible to Cameron and some of the others. They wouldn’t take him in just because Zach would start to treat Quinn the same way. He would be alone.

With his chest that unbearable tightness again, Quinn couldn’t help it. He started crying, though he tried desperately not to. He wiped his eyes over and over again, attempting to slow his frantic breathing. If someone came in and found him like this, what would they think?

He wanted to go home. He wanted to go away again, where no one would bother him. But he couldn’t… it had only been two days since Grand Lake—it was the middle of the school week—and he couldn’t miss any more practice and didn’t want to explain this to his father. Why was he missing so much school?

It was probably because he couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle his own family much better, either. Lizzie had yet to be introduced to them, and he spent most of his time locked in his room or sneaking porn on the laptop late at night.

Quinn slowly started to calm down, and stopped crying before lunch ended. He kept his blonde hair in his eyes, hoping to hide the red and puffiness that gave away he had been crying. People like him weren’t supposed to cry.

He kept to himself the rest of the afternoon, and again was unfocused during practice. He ran his hills, still his punishment from what he had done to Cameron the two weeks before. He had been informed that it would end Thursday now, since he missed a day. That didn’t bother him.

The coach waited until Quinn had finished running his hills, and had collapsed on the grass, trying to catch his breath. The coach came over and squatted down next to the teen, staring at him for a while. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” Quinn wiped sweat from his brow. Why was he being asked this, again?

“I’ve been thinking about it. You’ve missed three practices in two weeks, you haven’t been focused at all, and around school you’re not interacting very much.”

Quinn didn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say? It had been bad enough with his mother, but with his coach, it was simply sports. It wasn’t anything personal they shared. Quinn answered with a shrug instead.

“Do you want to talk?” The coach offered. Quinn shook his head quickly. “No. I… On Saturday, my mom set up… I’m going to go see someone,” He panted out brokenly. “Just don’t tell anyone,” He added quickly.

“Alright, well… I’m still here, and there are plenty of counselors here at school, too.” The coach finished with a firm hand over Quinn’s shoulder and went back to storing things in the shed. Quinn stared after the man for a moment.

He didn’t want to talk to people he knew about anything. Word would get around, somehow. But Saturday sure as hell needed to come faster if he was going to make it without breaking down again.

***

The week didn’t improve. Lizzie insisted on a date over the weekend, and Quinn tried to get out of it, expanding the lie of his Saturday appointment. “I have something to do this weekend.”

“Again?” Lizzie complained. “Alright, fine, how about Thursday, since Friday is the game? And we can hang out after the game, too.”

Why did she want to hang out so much? Well, they were dating. That’s how it was supposed to be when dating someone. But Quinn didn’t want to date her, he didn’t like her, and he didn’t want to spend time with her.

Her sexual aggressiveness was getting worse, and she was always trying to do more. Given two nights in a row, she would definitely do something. “I’ll be tired after the game.” Quinn had to get out of as much as possible. Friday was important. Friday was mental preparation for what ever was going to happen on Saturday, with this so-called Dr. Allen Masson.

Lizzie rolled her eyes and agreed for Thursday. Quinn would have tried to get out of that, too, if it wouldn’t make it so obvious.

The whole date was horrible, in Quinn’s mind. She just wanted to hang out at her house, in which her parent’s weren’t home. He had trouble turning her down and telling her no to sex. She either complained about it or didn’t stop advancing.

During the game on Friday, Lizzie made an extra hard attempt to make it clear that they were dating, by cupping him on the sidelines. Luckily the coach had intervened on that one, reprimanding her for vulgar behavior. Quinn stuck to the coach the rest of the game, which was a loss.

Lizzie’s act had made the drive home awkward. “How far have you and Lizzie gone? Do you need condoms?” Was the interrogation from his parents, absent his younger sister.

Getting home, Quinn showered before eating dinner with his family, but retreated into his room again. He put on his iPod with headphones in and let the music drift into his head—Bring Me The Horizon’s Chelsea Smile.

I got a secret,

it’s on the tip of my tongue it’s on the back of my lungs,

And,

I’m gonna keep it!

I know something you don’t know!

Before the song even got much further, Quinn jumped when his mother knocked on the door. He paused the song, and sat up guiltily.

“Sweetie?” His mother stepped in carefully. “You okay?”

He seemed to be getting asked that question a lot lately. “Fine.” Quinn shrugged and slunk down onto his stomach, bunching the pillow up under his chin. Claire came over and sat on the edge of the bed.

“You’re set for tomorrow at nine. I’ll take you, okay?”

Quinn nodded and clutched onto his iPod out of sight. He felt his mother’s hand start to rub his back. “Things will work out. I talked to Masson a little on the phone when I set up the appointment. He’s very friendly… even giving us a discount for the first time visit. We'll see how it goes, and if you want to continue going, we can set up a schedule.”

“And he doesn’t talk to anyone else about it, right?” Quinn asked quietly. His mother’s hand slowed on his back. “Right. Unless it might be something dangerous and needs to be prevented.”

“Okay,” [IH1] Quinn mumbled.

“…Okay.” His mother finished and left. Quinn sighed and hit the play button his iPod again.

This disease is getting worse.

I counted my blessings,

now I'll count this curse.

The only thing I really know:

I can't sleep at night.

I'm buried but breathing in regret.

Yeah!

I've got a secret.

It's on the tip of my tongue,

it's on the back of my lungs.

And I'm gonna keep it.

I know something you don't know.

I may look happy, but honestly dear,

the only way I'll really smile

is if you cut me ear to ear.

I see the vultures,

they watch me bleed.

They lick their lips,

as all the shame spills out of me.

We all carry these things inside

that no one else can see.

They hold us down like anchors. They drown us out at sea.

I look up to the sky,

there may be nothing there to see.

But if I don't believe in him,

Why would he believe in me?

(Lyrics belong to Bring Me the Horizon, Chelsea Smile)

***

Quinn stood around, taking in the lavish lobby of the office. The place was in a small, four story building and took up the better part of the third floor. There were little waterfalls, bamboo shoots, and mini-rock gardens all over the place. It had all black and chrome furnishings, going for a modern look.

Claire signed him in and signed some waivers, before Quinn was led back into one of the offices. Inside was much more homely, with warm amber colored walls and yellow honeysuckle plush chairs and couches.

The man—Dr. Allen Masson—was young for someone of his title, maybe young thirties with dark brown hair and a clean-shaven face. He smiled and shook hands with Quinn with a “You can just call me Allen or Masson.”

Quinn sunk into one of the single seat chairs, sprawling out on the cushions. “So,” Allen began. “You’re seventeen, right?”

Quinn nodded. “I’ll be eighteen in the spring.”

“So a senior in high school?” Allen continued casually. Quinn just nodded again. “Tell me some about yourself.”

Quinn felt for the worry stone in his pocket. “Uh, 3.3 GPA… I’ve been on Varsity football since my sophomore year. I have a girlfriend, Lizzie, she’s a cheerleader.” Quinn held his hand out, demonstrating her height, as if it would help convey her. “I like music…” He stopped at that. That was as much as he shared with most people.

Allen nodded. “What kind of music?”

“…Anything. A lot.” Quinn answered awkwardly.

“Name some bands or what’s on your iPod right now,” Allen pressed, smiling openly.

Quinn glanced down at his iPod, looking at the song that had been on repeat since the night before. “Bring Me the Horizon’s Chelsea Smile… uh, I listen to them, some… Blood on the Dance Floor. Mostly those two, lately.” He hadn’t listened too much of anything else in a while.

“Some pretty different stuff,” Allen commented.

“You’ve heard of them?” Quinn asked shyly. He wasn’t expecting that much.

“Yeah,” Allen answered simply. “So tell me more about your girlfriend, Lizzie.”

Quinn looked away. “She talks a lot. Pretty self absorbed, I guess.”

“Do you like her?”

“She’s okay,” Quinn mumbled.

“No,” Allen sat forward slightly. “I mean like her, like her. You’re dating her, so you must like her, right?”

Quinn bit the inside of his lip. “Not really,” He breathed out.

“How long have you two been going out?” Allen asked. “A… few weeks, maybe around a month. First week of school or something,” Quinn answered.

“You don’t know? Girls are pretty big on anniversaries, aren’t they?” Allen teased, watching the look of horror that came over Quinn.

“Seriously? Shit.”

“Why are you going out with her if you don’t like her?” Allen quickly switched topics. Quinn paused to answer. “My friend’s girlfriend introduced us.”

“But you don’t have to go out with her.” Allen wagged his pen at Quinn. “Or you could just break up with her.”

“Then people will ask why, and that’s a pain,” Quinn sighed.

“Well then, why don’t you like her?” Allen tilted his head off to the side. Quinn just stared at him.

“Another time, then.” Allen waved a dismissive hand up. “So if you’ve been dating her as long as your mother says you’ve been in this bad mood, do you think she’s the reason?”

“No,” His mother had mentioned that, apparently. “It’s… always been like that. Just worse lately.”

“Because of Lizzie?” Allen pressed.

Quinn shifted. He really didn’t want to talk about that much with Allen. Not yet. “No,” He mumbled vaguely. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“About the reason why, or the bad feeling all together?” Allen had dubbed the whole mood “the bad feeling”.

“About why.” Quinn did want to talk about getting over it, or at least lessening it.

“So then what does it feel like?” Allen leaned back. Quinn fidgeted and looked down to his lap.

“My chest hurts, my stomach feels sick and my throat feels tight… and I feel paranoid or something. Like people are watching me, waiting for me to slip up or… and I panic inside. I can’t focus a lot, in class or on Lizzie or football… I do what everyone else does even if I hate doing it.”

“What kind of things do you do?” Allen flicked his pen around.

“Date Lizzie,” Quinn chuckled. “And… there’s this kid. Cameron,” He lowered his voice.

“What about him?” Allen pushed the subject.

“He’s… gay. My friends like to give him a hard time. Bully, I guess. I kind of just go with it…”

“What kind of things do you do to him?”

Quinn sucked in a breath. “Talk mean. One time they soaked his shirt in the locker room showers. That wasn’t me. But… we sprayed him with silly string. Zach put it down his pants. They put women’s underwear in his locker after Zach got suspended for the silly string. He dropped the class Monday.” The real reason for him dropping it could come later.

Allen nodded sullenly. “And that’s what makes it worse for you?”

“Mostly. But still… if I’m alone, without any friends, I feel paranoid. I feel like I need to be acting a certain way… but without my friends, I don’t really have anyone to follow.” Quinn tried not to make it seem like it was all because of Cameron.

“And so then why do you go on little trips?” How much did his mother tell Allen already?

“When I feel like I need to be alone. Not pretend so much,” Quinn sighed.

“Pretend so much about what?” Allen wasn’t going to drop the reason why. That was his job, after all. Quinn chewed on the inside of his lip for a few minutes. “You don’t tell anyone, right?”

“As long as it’s not a threat to anything.” Allen explained. The same thing Claire had said. Quinn sucked in another deep breath, glancing down to the worry stone in his hand.

“Pretend about being straight,” He whispered quietly.

Allen didn’t ask him to repeat. “And so you go on your trips, what do you do? Date?”

Quinn shook his head. “No. I… lay around a lot. When it gets that bad, I just feel heavy and exhausted. Don’t feel like eating or doing anything, just… nothing. I don’t have to do anything.”

“And you see what they do to Cameron as what they do to you.” Allen kept switching topics. It was hard to focus, but it was keeping Quinn from getting to stuck on one thing.

“That scares me, and it makes Cameron hate me. He won’t talk to me.”

“You like him,” Allen stated. Quinn didn’t answer. Allen’s eyes flickered to the clock. “I think your mom should be here to pick you up.” That meant their time was up. Quinn frowned and didn’t move right away.

“You won’t tell her, right?”

“Right.” Allen assured. “But I do want to speak to her, alone, okay?”

Quinn didn't want that. What if he really did tell his mother something? Quinn swallowed it down and shuffled out of the office. He had shared a lot more than he wanted to, and while he didn’t say the words, someone knew he was fucking gay for once.

He sat out in the lobby, waiting on his mother from having her word with Allen. What was he telling her, really?

She came out after a few minutes, a little obviously down, but she forced a smile. They walked out to the car in silence, but it didn’t last long once inside. “What did he tell you?” Quinn asked quickly.

Claire shrugged. “He thinks you might be depressed.”

Quinn faltered. “Depressed?” He repeated.

“The anxiousness, the pressure and feeling tired,” She clarified. “He says those are common signs of depression for teens. He wants you to come in again.”

Quinn sulked back into his seat. He was supposed to be happy with his life, not… depressed.