Folder X - 2. Chapter 2

The math problems were displayed centerboard, yet, the distraction of Jonah on the far side of the room rendered me completely useless. I never understood how that boy could be so captivating, but I never questioned it for long. There was a fear of losing any cute interactions he'd have with his friends, or in the odd chance, he got hotter than he was when he turned up for school. I’ll admit that maybe my staring got a little creepy at times, but how could you not look? Jonah was wearing that cute getup I love; the blue denim shirt and ripped skinny jeans. The black and white NASA jacket he brought to school hung over the back of his seat, and he sat slumped doodling with his pen on his copy, all the while simultaneously talking to his best friend, Dallas. Anytime he smiled, it made my heart expand, and it even made breathing a difficult task.

However, when Dallas peered around the room, I reverted my attention to the whiteboard, I hated him, and I never understood how Jonah could be friends with such a dickhead. I’ll admit, I was afraid of Dallas, but Jonah always scolded Dallas if he saw him picking on me, but that never stopped Dallas from actively pursuing me. I got the feeling that although Jonah cared enough to stop the bullying, he never decided to put an end to it permanently. Understandably, Dallas was his best friend, so I recognized how difficult it would be to do.

The teacher announced the homework line-up, and I dutifully scribbled in shorthand the page numbers and the question in my journal. I had gotten into a habit of not completing my homework when I felt like shit, and the funny thing was… my teacher said they cared, but they didn't. Yet, on automation, I still jotted down the information.

Moments later, the final bell for lunch chimed; everyone was on their feet, pushing, shoving with chairs screeching and heavy chatter. I raced to pack my stuff away, as sometimes Jonah would nip off to the restroom before going to break, and I liked bumping into him for some strange reason.

The fear of losing Jonah in crowded hallways among sweaty, hormonal abominations caught up to me. Forcing my way through class peers, I closed the distance to the exit. Jonah was already pushing his way out the door, his Nike bag slung over his shoulder with one strap, and I kept my distance. Dallas was making him laugh, it was hurtful, but somehow I always forgave Jonah. I wished it were me who made him chuckle at my jokes, though the likelihood of that happening was slim to none.

As always, Dallas diverted at the T-junction and entered the cafeteria. Jonah kept walking toward the bathrooms, yet instead of entering, he kept going.

It was a new routine.

As much as it thrilled me spying on him and seeing something different, it made me anxious. My mind started racing to all these wild and crazy conclusions. It made me wonder what in hell was going on. After all, I knew Jonah since 3rd grade, and he set his routine in stone in the last few months.

'Did he have a secret rendezvous I didn't know about?'

'Despite that, my Jonah was single… at least that's how it looked.'

'Did Jonah intend to skip school for the rest of the day?'

'Did he have a secret hangout in the boiler room like in all those cheesy 2000’s movies?'

The first real hint of an adventure was cut short when he stopped at his locker, opened it, and lightened the load of his backpack. I'll admit, I expected something more entertaining; this was Jonah Martel, for Christ's sake.

What I wasn’t expecting, however, is when Jonah zipped up his bag and shut the locker. I assumed he’d take longer to do his thing. Quickly he spun in my direction and approached me. I thought Jonah knew what I was doing; he had to have an idea; I stalked him every day. I imagined if I looked in a mirror, my face would have been a subtle sheen of white, and my shirt would have been soaked with wet stains under the arms.

But Jonah's step was swift and determined, and when he reached me, he didn't blink; he drove past without noticing and ducked into the restroom. My lungs deflated with relief, and it felt incredible. Knowing I wouldn't be able to control myself, I snuck to the door, slithering along the wall, attempting to not make it noticeable.

Yet, I always had a way of doing something inconspicuously and drawing attention all at the same time.

I called my little friend 'bad luck.'

However, if you saw a fat tub of lard hugging a wall, I think you'd see it stand out also.

The next thing I knew, the door was opened, and I was inside. There were a few boys about, two at the sinks and one at the urinals, and automatically everyone's attention shifted to me, making me feel incredibly awkward.

Jonah had to have been in one of the two cubicles, so I sauntered along. My throat was dry, and my knees were beginning to knock, but I tried to ignore the boys who saw me. I could have been in here for any reason; after all, it was a bathroom, for crying out loud. Ducking into the nearest cubicle, I secured the latch on the back of the door, dropped the toilet seat, and sat on the lid. Leaning into the wooden partition, my ear pressed against the cool surface, and I listened. It was hard to hear, but I could make out some sounds.

I didn't catch much as the boys outside were making an incredible amount of racket. Yet, some of the boys left the room, and I could hear the distinctive bop-bop-bop of the iPhone keyboard. It made me wonder what was going on next door. The wall ran to the floor, leaving no space to catch a view of his sneakers. I was tempted to peer over the top of the divider to see what Jonah was doing. Yet, I felt anxious and weirded out by the thought.

'Did I genuinely realize how creepy I allowed myself to get?'

'Yes.'

However, I usually controlled my desperate urges, and today as much as it burned at my heart to see what was transpiring in the next stall, I chose not to peek.

Soon after the last person exited the bathroom, it fell silent, meaning only Jonah and me remained. I assumed he wasn't aware of my presence, and it heightened my uncontrollable erotic obsession. When it got hushed, two clicks flooded through the room, and then the silence drifted back in. Jonah had taken a picture, my head systematically glanced up to the gap between the barrier and the ceiling; I wanted to look, I really did.

Jonah took a picture of something, and I bet it was his dick. He’d never done this before, so it was exciting. Yet, the thought of Jonah being naked so close made me horny. It was uncalled for, but before I knew it, my erection throbbed against my jeans, and I knew I'd have a big problem.

As much as I got upset to hear Jonah vacate the stall and leave the bathroom, my straining boner stopped me from following him to the cafeteria. I willed for the arousal to go away, but seeing the only course of action, I took the incentive, unbuttoned, and jerked it. When I blew my load, I put my wet, deflating dick away and cracked open the door.

I had the cum plastered on my palm. All I desired now was to get rid of my naughty evidence.

When I saw that the coast was clear, I dashed from my stall to the cubicle Jonah had been occupying and abruptly shut the door. Once inside, my mind went wild, thinking about all the possibilities we could have done if we were a couple. Plus, figuring this was the toilet Jonah always used, and this stall was his one, I reached out and splayed my hand on the back of the door, smearing my white seed across the rear of the gate. I had done this once before, and it thrilled me, so here I was doing it again. This time, I wiped the coating until it was barely visible, and then I ran my hand across the bolt. The deed was incredibly hot since I knew Jonah had touched it moments beforehand.

Feeling satisfied, I stood back to admire my creation, with my sticky hand held away from my body; the remnants of the ejaculate were turning to crispy paste- almost like dried craft glue.

I viewed my spoil spread across the back of the door with a glossy sheen, and it brought about a smile for a second. Then the thought of what I had done caught up, and I felt guilty for doing such a sick thing. I launched out of the stall and scampered for the sink bank. Washing my hand thoroughly, I returned to the booth with a bundle of paper towels to try to clean my sick fantasy; and, after that, hurried to lunch.

Lunch was like normal; I sat alone on the outer parameter, afraid to look anywhere else other than my tray. I stopped taking more money than I need to school as it would always get robbed by Dallas, and eventually, I began to start putting the equivalent of what I required in my sock, stop by the bathroom and remove it when I wanted to use it. The thing is, Dallas also caught onto my little ploy, and he started removing my shoes or asking me to strip just for the sake of embarrassing me. My clothes ended up in the toilet so many times, I have officially lost count.

So, at lunch, I toy-fully nudged around the carrots on the plate, I ate the mash, but all I wanted was a cookie, though I had no more cash. It was probably smart of me to think of ahead of time, and like usual, Dallas and two other boys he hangs around with turned up at my table. What made it more saddening is not the fact I sat alone at an eight-seater table but that Jonah talked with a girl in the distance. I hadn't regarded Dallas until he unloaded a bottle of gunk all across my shirt, and he did it mockingly as if he sneezed. Whatever it was, it stunk to high heavens, and that was the end of it. Dallas and his posse strolled off without further confrontation.

Wiping myself, clumps of mash potato stuck to my fingers until I flicked it on my lunch tray. The bullying never stopped; plus, I'll agree that I was getting sick of the habit. Who didn't want to live the same cycle, day in/day out? Me. The constant bombardment put me off from turning up to school, and even if the teachers were semi-conscious and noticed what's going on, I'm sure they'd have found a way to still plague me.

I brought my lunch tray to the bin, emptied its contents, and got a few napkins to clean my shirt. After, I went to my locker, picked up a hoodie I kept there for emergencies, and wore it for the rest of the day.

When school let out, I raced for the bus, but since I got held back by Ms. Gatto, I bumped into Jonah and Dallas in the hallway on the way to the pickup point. I moved over on the corridor toward the lockers as I wanted to put distance between Dallas and me. I figured that he wouldn't have done anything when Jonah was close by. But when Dallas and Jonah approached, Dallas charged at me like a bull and crashed into me, slamming me against the locker bank. The sharp crack swamped the empty hallway, and air rushed from my lungs.

Falling to the floor, the pair kept walking; everything hurt so bad. Dallas laughed, and Jonah peered over his shoulder. It wasn't the first time he stood idly by, yet as always, he could never do a wrong thing. He could have said something if he wanted to, but that seemed to be getting lesser these days. Both of them walked on, eventually disappearing through a fire door toward the art rooms.

Crawling forward, I hobbled up and fixed my crumpled clothes, and made my way to the exit, holding my tender shoulder.