Underneath This Skin - 3. My face gave him a handshake.

I strolled into my next class late again, with a repeat of what happened the previous time.

Cue awkwardness.

As I sat through this lovely seminar of advanced mathematics (AKA Bullshit I will never need to know), I couldn't stop my mind from drifting back to that boy. The unnaturally redheaded one. What was he getting at? How the hell was hitting on me, of all people, going to benefit him in any way whatsoever? I sighed inaudibly. It wasn't. Even briefly associating with the 'poor-as-bloody-fuck' kid wasn't going to get anyone anywhere. I just wasn't important.

Enough with the emo shit. I don't like my inner turmoils, so I'm guessing you don't either.

Just as I actually decided to pay attention, the bell rang. So much for learning whatever formula was scribbled up on the board. To hell with it. Standing out of my desk, I languidly moved with the flow of people making their way out of the classroom and to their lockers. I didn't have a locker though. I refused the secretary when she had asked.

Knowing my luck, I'd probably lock myself out of it. Instead, I decided to venture out of the school, and to the school grounds. After a few minutes of searching, I discovered a nice patch of trees to shade/hide myself in. Anymore human contact than necessary was hardly what I was looking for. I set the junky watch on my wrist's alarm to go off in 45 minutes (AKA 5 minutes before lunch ended), before situating my bag of school stuff behind my head. Rather uncomfortable pillow, but it did the trick. Pretty soon I had curled myself against the tree, catching up on those lovely z's I tended to miss out on.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Just same old teaching shit every teenager goes through. No need for me to vent about that to you. I threw my pack over my shoulder boredly, as I set out towards home. Of course, who would expect a trip home on the first day of school to be so... peaceful? Well, usually anyone. But of course, it wasn't for me.

Matt and his lackeys (the beastly men, if you do not recall), had spotted me on my way out the side door. I of course, did not spot them, or even feel their presence, until I felt Matt's rough hand on my shoulder.

"Hey faggot." he greeted me from behind. I didn't reply, and just kept staring ahead. Maybe if I stared hard enough in the direction of my house, I could magically teleport there.

Wait.

Where'd the nickname 'faggot' come from again? I was in no means gay. Or straight.

Asexual for life. Insert peace symbol.

Anyway, back to the 'dilemma' at hand. Matt had at some point, swung me around so I could look into his eyes. Probably trying to scare the shit out of me. Didn't work. Nothing could scare me after what I'd been through already. I stared directly into his eyes, with a bored look.

"I'll punch that blank look off your face, you emotionless freak." he snarled, drawing his fist back. I couldn't argue. I was pretty blank, boring, and uninhibited. At least, I appeared uninhibited to the rest of the world. Defense mechanisms for the win. As I let myself drift far away, I could remotely feel pressure on various points of my body. I was being beaten up. And I really didn't mind.

In fact, I probably deserved it.

After a while, I guess they got bored with me and left. Matt snarled something to me. I didn't really hear. I just forced myself to my feet, despite the pain, and walked home. I was in somewhat of a daze when I walked home, so I didn't realize when I'd past the redheaded boy from before as he exited a variety store, until I felt another hand grab my shoulder. I must have flinched or something, I'm not sure. But he spun me around to face him.

Of course, spinning someone who had been severely beaten probably wasn't the best idea, considering I fell flat on my face, out cold, completely vulnerable in front of the man who had tried to hit on me earlier.

Fuck.