Permanently Black and Blue - 2. Chapter 2

Shaun hit a freshman with his book bag on the way to his locker. The scrawny kid fell into his friend with an undignified squawk. It almost made Shaun feel better. Almost.

“Stupid kid…” he muttered under his breath. He tried to tell himself he was talking about the freshman and about what a goddamn brat he was for getting in the way, but it was the new kid on the bus that came to mind.

Jesse, or whatever his name was… He was an asshole. He’d started off all friendly and chatty, but the second someone else paid him a little attention, it was like Shaun didn’t exist!

It was always the fucking same. People were always doing that. Either ignoring him or making fun of him. It had used to hurt his feelings—not that he would ever admit to that—but now it just pissed him off.

Shaun reached his locker. He opened it angrily as he thought about killing himself.

That’d make them fucking sorry, he thought bitterly.

But he wouldn’t do that. Deep down, he knew suicide was exactly what his asshole classmates wanted from him. So, he’d stick around, fucking with them, and making them uncomfortable. It was the next best thing.

He gathered his books for first period and then slammed his locker shut.

“Watch it, loser!” yelled some jock a few lockers over.

“Fuck off,” Shaun called over his shoulder and stormed off down the hall. He was pleased when the jock didn’t come after him. In his opinion, that meant the dumb meathead was too afraid to do anything.

He’d fought with the jocks a lot over the years. He didn’t always win, but he always made sure his hits and kicks and bites were felt long after the fight was over. In Shaun’s book, if the asshole could still feel your punches a week after the fight was over, it was just as good as a victory.

He made it to English without further incident. First period was Shaun’s least favorite class. And that was saying something.

He despised every class he had.

His teacher, Miss Stevens, was always trying to get them to put more emotion into their writing. More feeling.

Shaun had seriously considered slitting his wrists and bleeding all over a piece of paper for the stupid bitch. “Here you go,” he’d say. “This emotional enough for you?”

Emotions were fucking stupid and gay.

New kids trying to be friendly were stupid and gay, as well.

Thinking of Jesse once more, little jerk, he took his customary seat in the back of the room and stacked his books around the edges of the desk like a makeshift barrier.

Class started soon after. They were reading poetry again. Some fucked up faggy shit from the 1800s. Somehow, even a straight guy writing about a chick came off sounding incredibly gay when it was written in poetry.

“Shaun? Would you like to read for the class?”

Miss Stevens was a gorgeous woman, young, blonde, and straight out of college. The other boys fantasized about her, Shaun heard them talking sometimes, but he hated Miss Stevens. The bitch had gotten it into her head that he needed to be more active in class and had started forcing him to participate. On his last writing assignment, Miss Stevens had written that she thought Shaun was a great writer, but she knew he could do even better.

Shaun hated her.

Apparently, humiliating him and forcing him to read poetry was her great idea to help him improve.

“No,” he said through his teeth.

The entire class turned around to stare at him. He could see that fucker Kenny, the jerk who had stolen Jesse’s attention on the bus, looking at him and smirking.

“I’d appreciate it, Shaun,” Miss Stevens said politely, but she wasn’t backing down. Her stare was unwavering. There was no way out.

Clenching his hands into fists, Shaun forced himself to begin reading. Eric, another jock he had problems with, snickered from the front, but Shaun ignored him. He forced himself through the fucked-up poem and then glared menacingly at his English teacher.

Miss Stevens smiled at him, totally immune to his death stare at this point. She moved on with the lecture about rhyme scheme and wrote something on the chalkboard.

Fuming, Shaun pulled a pen out of his pocket. He’d sharpened the plastic end to a point with his bowie knife, and now, he touched it gingerly with the tip of his finger. He looked up over the barrier of his textbooks, glaring bitterly across the room at Kenny and Eric.

Slowly, he pulled his shirt sleeve up to his elbow. The skin was pale and scarred. With a steady hand, he jammed the sharp end of his pen into his arm and dragged it across the brutalized flesh. It didn’t break the skin, but it hurt.

Sometimes, Shaun liked being in pain.

Miss Stevens stopped blabbing. She called on another student to read the next literary example.

Shaun relaxed a bit. He dropped the pen harmlessly onto the desktop. He had a long, red furrow up his arm now, amongst the other, older self-inflicted scars. He dug a nail into the red irritated skin but soon grew tired of his self-torture. He felt weary for no reason, and he put his head down on the desk.

Shaun didn’t sit up again until the bell rang. He got up quickly and started gathering his things when a hand fell on his shoulder. He whirled around. “What?” he growled.

Miss Stevens crossed her arms and said nothing. Shaun glared at her and the two of them waited tensely as the room emptied.

“If you weren’t such a great writer, Shaun, I’d give you a detention,” she said as the last kid left the room. She was smiling though and seemed more amused than anything.

“Go ahead and give me one,” It wasn’t like it mattered anyway. “I don’t care.”

“Shaun…” Miss Stevens sighed, looking like she wanted to say something important. She opened her mouth, her eyes gleaming intently, but then she deflated and shook her head. “Never mind.”

Shaun raised a bushy brow. “Yeah. Never mind.” He grabbed up the last of his things and headed towards the door.

“Don’t forget about the poem due at the end of the month,” she called after him. “It’s worth a lot of points and I’m expecting something special from you.”

Shaun turned back to see her grinning at him like a crazy person. She must really be getting a kick out of whatever it was she thought she was doing.

He sneered at her. “Whatever.” He hated teachers who tried to be nice all the time. He’d much rather they be honest and hate him like everyone else did. He stepped out into the hall and ended the uncomfortable conversation.

He made it to second period a little later than usual. He walked into the science room to see everyone was already seated.

The lab tables held two people each, but as there was an odd number of students and Shaun had sat alone in the back since the beginning of the year.

He liked it better that way. Alone. He was without distraction and stupid idiots making fun of him. He hated science, and his solo lab work sucked, but he didn’t care about school anyway. It didn’t matter if he failed.

Except, there was someone sitting at his table today…a very familiar someone.

“Hey,” Jesse smiled at him as Shaun slid into his seat against the wall. “I guess we’re lab partners now.”

Shaun was a little stunned and thus resorted to his usual form of interaction. He scowled at the new boy and slumped further into his seat.

Jesse wasn’t affected by the scowl. He continued to peer at Shaun with an intense level of interest and Shaun glared harder at him. He folded his arms tightly across his chest and snapped, “What?”

“Y-you never finished telling me about your band.”

Shaun blinked at him.

He was impressed.

Jesse was interested and still remembered their interrupted conversation.

His glare softened, and he looked Jesse over slowly, feeling a strange stirring of…something tickling in his belly.

He was embarrassed to even think it, but…Jesse was cute. Not that Shaun was gay or anything! It was nothing like that! It was just hard not to notice…

Jesse had a beautiful smile and there was something incredibly…sweet about the way he kept trying to chat Shaun up. The messy auburn hair and sun-kissed freckles were nice, as well. Though Shaun, being completely straight and all, didn’t give a shit.

“C’mon dude, don’t be so modest,” Jesse said playfully. He elbowed Shaun in the side, leaning over much farther than was necessary to whisper in his ear. “It’s so boring out here. If you don’t tell me where your band plays next, I’ll have to start stalking you.”

Shaun pulled away immediately. He stared wide-eyed at Jesse, wondering wildly if he was being serious or not. Of course, when Jesse started laughing Shaun figured he was only joking around.

Oddly, he was a tad disappointed.

Before either boy could say anything else, class started, and Mr. Barnes began the lecture on alkali metals.

Most people were taking notes.

Jesse hurried to pull out some paper and follow their example, but Shaun didn’t bother. He watched Jesse from the corner of his eye as he jotted down some notes. His face was close to the page and his freckled button-nose was wrinkled in thought.

Shaun hated him for being so endearing… He had an aching need to hurt himself again.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

Jesse would definitely see him, and there was no way Shaun was explaining his scars.

So, he resorted to drawing idle shapes on the inside cover of his textbook. He got so absorbed in his scribblings that when Jesse shoved a piece of paper at him, he was a little startled.

He glanced over at Jesse, scowling automatically at his cheerful expression. Jesse didn’t react one way or the other though. He just went back to writing in his notebook.

Shaun glanced at Jesse’s piece of paper.

It was a note.

Gimme your number so we can text.

Shaun huffed and jotted a reply. His writing was much messier than Jesse’s. It was an ugly, childish sort of scrawl.

I don’t have a phone.

Jesse stared at the piece of paper for a minute, squinting. But after a minute, he quickly wrote back.

That’s kind of weird.

Whatever, Shaun wrote sullenly. He’d always thought passing notes was stupid. Not that anyone had ever passed him notes before. Jesse didn’t seem to think so though. He changed the subject.

Do you understand any of this stuff? I suck at science. Underneath the message, Jesse drew a stick figure being blown up by a beaker full of chemicals.

Shaun couldn’t help himself. He smirked.

Nope, he scrawled below Jesse’s line of text. After a moment of consideration, he drew a picture next to Jesse’s. A brutal fire monster coming out of a Bunsen burner.

Jesse studied Shaun’s newest addition with a smile. Guess I’m fucked then, he wrote.

Shaun didn’t respond. He took the note back and continued to doodle death and destruction under their lines of correspondence.

Jesse leaned over Shaun’s shoulder with his pencil. He made Shaun’s fire monster throw little fizzing beakers of deadly chemicals. Shaun vindictively added some dead classmates being burned by the acid.

Shaun grinned menacingly at their drawing. This was kind of fun.

I hope we don’t end up like that, Jesse wrote. He drew an arrow to the burning stick figure wearing a Leatherman jacket.

Didn’t you hear Mr. Barnes? Chemistry is dangerous, Shaun wrote with a smirk. Jesse added a smiley face next to his words in response.

Shaun gave the happy face evil looking horns and vampire fangs and Jesse drew in a hand making the peace sign. Shaun promptly leaned over him and erased the first finger, so it was flipping them the bird.

Jesse threw a hand over his mouth as he started to laugh in earnest. He looked up from their drawing to meet Shaun’s cautious gaze, amusement shining in his blue eyes.

Shaun stared back at him in utter amazement. It was the first time he’d ever made someone laugh. But then he realized he was gawking and he shut his slack jaw.

He glared down at the lab table, affixing his gaze on the black, lusterless surface. He kept his eyes down for the remainder of the lesson.

When the bell rang, Shaun snatched up the paper with their drawings. He folded it into a tiny square and stuffed it in his bag.

Jesse didn’t notice. He slid his notebook into his bag and picked up his pencil. “What’s your next class?” he asked.

“History,” Shaun grunted. He hated history. Almost as much as he hated English and science.

“Oh! Me too,” Jesse said. “Want to show me where it is?”

Shaun felt like he didn’t have a choice. He was sure Jesse would easily follow him even if he said no. Not that he had a burning desire to refuse.

“I ah…sure.” Shaun shouldered his bag and gestured for Jesse to follow him. He did and started up a bubbly conversation about something nonsensical. Shaun was still a little shell shocked about the whole situation. He didn’t catch much of what Jesse was saying unfortunately, and he wondered if maybe Jesse would give him some kind of quiz later on, on his memory. He kept waiting for Jesse to abandon him, but it seemed he was interested in Shaun now.

Most people weren’t interested in getting past his rough exterior, to actually get to know him. Shaun wondered hesitantly if maybe that was Jesse’s intention.

Whatever his intentions, Jesse and Shaun were separated in their next class together. The history teacher had strict seating arrangements and Shaun had been stuck in the front row since the first day of class. He was irritated when Jesse was instructed to sit in the last row, right next to that goodie-two-shoes bitch, Emily Taylor.

“I’ll see you after class, OK?” Jesse asked, but he couldn’t even wait for a reply. Emily snagged him around the waist, whispering about class starting.

Shaun glared violently after the two of them, but Jesse didn’t look his way. He started chatting with Emily, just like he had with Shaun.

He felt a horrible wave of jealousy tear through him as he watched Emily and Jesse together. His whole body vibrated with anger. Watching them felt like some sort of cruel and unusual punishment.

After class, Jesse left history without speaking to Shaun at all. He ran after Emily and the two of them disappeared down the crowded hall.

There was another class before lunch and Jesse wasn’t in it. Shaun tried not to think about it. He was getting a headache and the wound on his arm itched.

Lunch was more of the same though. Shaun took his usual table near the back of the room, eating his packed lunch alone with a grimace on his face.

There was no hope in forgetting about Jesse. He was the center of everyone’s attention. Across the room, the entire eleventh grade mobbed his table. Shaun was feeling bitter, but he couldn’t help watching Jesse laugh and talk excitedly with his classmates.

Jesse looked extremely happy as he joked around with Kenny and Eric and the other shit-head jocks. They were doubtlessly talking about sports or some other shit Shaun could never relate to. Shaun them a dirty look.

The two most popular girls in school, Sara and Alicia, watched Jesse with smiles on their faces. They giggled like idiots and Emily, who sat directly to Jesse’s right, kept giving the two girls territorial looks.

Shaun ate in lunch in a terrible mood. Jesse said he was single? Well, by Shaun’s estimation, he wouldn’t be for long…

He saw Jesse only one more time that day.

After lunch, half the eleventh graders had gym, so it wasn’t a surprise when Jesse showed up in Shaun’s class.

Shaun was already in the locker room when Jesse invaded the area.

Kenny and Eric followed him in like puppies. It seemed Jesse was telling one of his football stories and the two jocks behind him listened raptly as they found spots to dress for class.

Nobody noticed Shaun changing in the corner.

Jesse threw his arms in the air as he made an impossible catch with an invisible ball. Everyone laughed at the stupid look of victory on his face directly after, and Jesse glowed with the acceptance.

Shaun jerked his hoodie over his head and hurriedly stuffed his arms through the holes. He stabbed his feet in his tennis shoes and then stormed from the room with a growl.

Today, they were playing kickball outside.

Shaun was grateful he wasn’t put on the same team as Jesse. He honestly didn’t think he could have played if he’d had to be teammates with that jerk. And Jesse was a fucking jerk…

During the first round, Shaun could feel Jesse’s eyes on him. Kenny had forced him into the outfield with a single mean look. Shaun was used to it. He didn’t argue or cause a fuss. He was still furious though and Jesse’s pretty blue eyes on him increased his anger exponentially.

Why couldn’t Jesse make up his mind already? Why was he bothering to waste his time staring at Shaun when he was oh-so-happy with his new bullshit friends? Why couldn’t he just leave well enough alone!?

Shaun didn’t move from his spot in the outfield. He ground his teeth to dust as he watched Eric and Jesse run the bases.

Jesse kept sneaking looks at Shaun. He just couldn’t seem to stop for some reason.

The teams switched positions after twenty minutes. Everyone was getting the chance to kick the ball.

Shaun was shoved to the back of the line; he was used to that too, but he waited patiently for his turn.

Jesse was on third base. Eric was pitching the ball. Shaun hated how well they played together. This game sucked.

When it was Shaun’s turn to kick, Eric gave him a bored look. Shaun stood far behind the plate, but no one bothered to correct him.

Eric smirked meanly. He wound up his arm and threw the ball low and hard.

Shaun had been waiting for this. His eyes narrowed on the ball. He took a running leap, angled his foot, and kicked it as hard as he could back at the unsuspecting jock. Shaun had the pleasure of watching the smile slide from Eric’s face seconds before the ball struck him square in the nose.

Everyone fell silent as Eric yelled in pain. He staggered and pressed his hands to his nose as it began to spurt blood. The coach sprinted from the dugout to help. As he passed, the coach banged his shoulder into Shaun’s. The cold look he threw over his shoulder proved it had been on purpose.

Whatever. Eric deserved a broken nose. They all deserved to bleed and die.

Baring his teeth in a vicious smile, Shaun looked Jesse’s way.

Jesse was still on third base. He seemed to be frozen in place. His face had paled and, his eyes were wide with fright.

Slowly, Shaun’s smile grew wider and more terrifying. He felt he wouldn’t have to worry about Jesse trying to be friendly anymore.

*****

Shaun couldn’t play anymore kickball that day. Like he cared.

After gym, he had math class by himself, just the way he liked it. Study hall was the last class of the day, but Shaun never stuck around. As usual, he skipped out early and walked home. It wasn’t strictly allowed, but nobody really gave a crap either.

He spent the walk home listening to his CD player and compiling the day’s many injustices. By the time he got to the house, only a few minutes before the bus would be driving past, he was angry again and decided he’d make a new cut on his arm. The last one he’d made was already scabbed over and digging at a scab wasn’t as satisfying as a bleeding wound.

Ruth, Shaun’s grandma, was in the kitchen when Shaun walked through the door radiating gloom.

“Shaun?” she called from the back, her voice shrill and irritating.

Shaun didn’t bother to answer. He trekked through the kitchen in silence. As soon as he entered the living room, Ruth poked her head out of the back room.

“What are you doing home so early?” she asked, narrowing her squinty eyes. She and Shaun looked a lot alike. They both had the same frizzy hair, though lately Ruth’s was getting more gray than brown. They had the same scowl and the same narrow unpleasant eyes. Ruth did have about fifty pounds on Shaun, though, and had a hard time moving around the tiny, cluttered house. She was wearing a faded house dress and slippers.

“I’m home on time,” Shaun sneered. He usually waited until the bus passed the house because Ruth was annoying enough to actually care if he skipped study hall.

To distract her, he stepped around the armchair and grabbed the TV remote. He turned it up as loud as it would go and pretended to watch the boring western program.

Ruth rolled her eyes and disappeared back into the other room. It took a few minutes, but he eventually saw the bus go past the front window. Ruth didn’t hear it over the sound of the TV. Thinking himself rather clever, Shaun waited another minute, watching the lame movie on TV, before he shut it off and ventured down the hall to his bedroom.

“Shaun?” Ruth called from the master suite.

“What? I’m going to start on homework.”

Ruth said nothing more and Shaun shrugged his way into his messy bedroom.

It smelled musty, a mix of sweat, dried jizz, and pot. It didn’t bother Shaun though, he barely even noticed. He threw his school shit down and picked his way over a pile of accumulated clothes, some dirty and some clean—not that he could tell them apart—and fucked around with his stereo system. He smiled grimly when Iron Maiden came on.

As the music filled the room, Shaun sat down on the edge of his bed. He opened his bedside table drawer and drew out his bowie knife.

It had been his father’s hunting knife, but Shaun had owned it since he was six years old. It wasn’t flashy or anything. It was a simple, curved blade with a dull, black grip. Shaun had sharpened the hell out of it though, and that’s all that really mattered to him.

Shaun didn’t cry or think about how horrified his stupid classmates would be if they could see him. Physically, he didn’t even feel much as the knife pressed into the crook of his arm. It hurt, but the pain was a delicious feeling. He cut deeper, forcing the tip into his scarred flesh. He followed the line his pen had taken earlier that morning and opened his skin for real.

As dark-red blood welled from the wound and slid down into the palm of his hand, all the stupid thoughts about Jesse disappeared.

Later, Shaun cleaned his arm and bandaged it tightly to stop the bleeding. He put on a long-sleeved shirt to hide the evidence. He didn’t own many short sleeved tops.

He rolled a joint and smoked out his bedroom window. He clutched his wounded arm as he stared sightlessly at the unending landscape of fields and trees. He decided when he felt the pain the next day, it’d be his reminder not to get too close to anyone—specifically Jesse.

He reasoned that if he could hurt himself this much, Jesse would hurt him worse.

Shaun smoked for an hour. He always felt relaxed after he fucked himself up, but the pot made it even better. He was so calm that when Eli entered his room without knocking, he only gave the man a slightly offended look.

“Dinner’s ready,” Eli said. He snatched the joint from Shaun and took a hit.

“I’m not hungry.” Shaun patiently waited until Eli gave him his pot back, absently digging his fingers into his new cut. It had a calming effect.

“Come tell your grandma that, son,” Eli said, smiling.

Shaun sighed and took one last deep pull on the roach before he threw it into the dead bushes below his window. He wondered dreamily if all the joints he’d thrown down there had killed them.

Reluctantly, he followed Eli back to the kitchen. Ruth was just pulling a roast out of the oven.

“How was your day?” Eli asked as Shaun slid into his seat.

“Fucked up,” Shaun said easily.

“Watch your language, young man,” Ruth screeched. She hurried to set the roast on the table so she could hit Shaun upside the head. He scowled.

Ruth plopped into her seat across from Eli. The chair creaked ominously under her weight. “Who wants to say grace?” she asked loudly as she folded her pudgy fingers together.

“I will,” Shaun sneered.

Ruth narrowed her eyes. “Do it right,” she insisted. “Jesus is watching.”

“Fine,” Shaun sighed. He waited for his grandparents to bow their heads. He ducked his and began. “Bless this food, Lord, that my grandma made and that my grandpa paid for. We are helpless without your wonderful bounty. Jesus Christ, thank you. So, fucking much.

“Amen.” Eli said, sounding amused.

Ruth smacked the back of Shaun’s head again, but he was in way too good a mood to let that bother him.

Insulting Jesus always put him in a good mood.