Page 101 of This is Me

An Unexpected Confession

“Peter!” Cooper yelled.

His voice echoing around the bathroom as my cheek pressed against the cold tile floor and Mitchell stood over me.

“You queers think you can walk around the school as if you’re not worthless,” he growled and took another step toward Cooper.

As Mitchell stepped over me, he made sure to dig his foot into my gut again, causing me to curl up in pain.

“We’re not,” I managed to mumble, and I heard Cooper whimper.

“What was that, fag?” Mitchell snarled, and I heard him shuffle, no doubt turning around to look at me.

“We’re not worthless.” My voice shook as I spoke, along with my body, but I wasn’t going to let that stop me.

For once in my life, I wanted to stand up for who I was. I wasn’t going to let people turn away from me. Even if it ended in me getting my ass kicked even more.

“Say’s the bitch crying on the shitty bathroom floor.”

“Say what you want,” I muttered, shakily pushing myself up from the ground. Pain rushed through my body and rippled up the side of my face. “Throw another punch if it makes you feel better about yourself. But I’m going to keep getting up. Because there is nothing you can say or do that will make me feel any less of myself. Because I’m not the one who has to find his worth in demeaning others. I don’t have to drag others down because I’ll never be at their level. Just like you.”

As the last word came out of my mouth, Mitchell’s fist connected with my face again, though this time I didn’t fall to the ground. I felt a pair of arms wrap around me and heard the loud bang of the bathroom door.

“Pete!”

Leroy’s voice washed over me as he leant me down against one of the toilet stalls, and I felt a trickle of warm blood run down my face.

I clenched my eyes shut as pain scattered over my face, and I tried to move out of Leroy’s arms, but I couldn’t work up the strength. I didn’t need him.

Forcing my eyelids open, I looked at the boy who had stopped me from falling to the ground and looked into his eyes. The sparkle that used to be so prominent in them had all but faded, and dark circles rested under them. The brightness he once held on his face was gone.

He was almost unrecognisable, and the pit in my stomach grew. No matter the anger, or other feelings I had toward Leroy, I hated seeing him like this. I was feeling a pain in my chest that wasn’t from what Mitchell did to me. It was from looking at Leroy.

What happened?

Leroy turned away from me, and for a moment, I missed looking into his eyes. Quickly realising what I was doing, I shook my head, regretting it instantly as pain circled it. I didn’t think I could hold myself up, and against my better judgment and throwing all willpower out the window, I leant into Leroy’s embrace.

I don’t know if it was because I leant into him or not, but Leroy gently propped me up against the door and moved away from me. I was now sitting alone on the bathroom floor. My head resting on the toilet stall instead of Leroy’s shoulder.

Looking to where Leroy had gone to, I saw him standing in front of Mitchell, who had taken a step back.

“You don’t want to be a part of this—” Mitchell started but was cut off by his own scream, as Leroy’s fist connected with his nose.

“Touch him again. Or anyone else, and your nose won’t be the only thing I break,” Leroy growled, shaking his hand, which now had splatters of blood on it.

“What the fuck!” Mitchell screeched, and I saw tears roll down his face to mix with the blood as he rushed past Leroy and out of the bathroom.

Leroy took in a shaky breath and turned back to me, slowly taking a step toward me. From the look on his face, I could tell that he was unsure about his movements, and I didn’t blame him. After all, he was the reason we hadn’t spoken in over a month.

“Are you okay?” He asked, taking another step forward and kneeling by my side.

His hand hovered in front of him as if he were fighting the urge to touch my face where there was no doubt a bruise forming. Part of me wanted him to finish the moment. To let me feel the warmth of his hand and the softness of his touch.

Leroy didn’t finish it though and, instead, he dropped his hand, resting it on the tile floor, helping to steady himself as he looked at me trying to hold myself up against the toilet stall.

The other part of me—that didn’t want him to touch me—was yelling at me to tell him to leave me alone. That I didn’t need him or his help. It was telling me to ask Cooper to help me up and get me out of the bathroom and away from Leroy. But I didn’t.

As I looked into Leroy’s eyes, I couldn’t stop myself from feeling sad for him. Even after everything he had done, I couldn’t stop thinking that I was the bad guy. What if Andy and Blaire had been right this whole time? What if everything I had been thinking was wrong?