Page 24 of Ginjuh

“I’m sorry I haven’t really talked to you all week.” He said. “I just…I feel…um, I like spending time with you, Zach.”

I turned to him, the smile immediately coming to my face.

“Ginjuh!” Matt sidled up on the other side of me. “How many dicks are we up to this week?”

“Fuck off, Matt,” I responded, my eyes still on Austin.

Austin swallowed hard, his eyes darting around.

“Watch out, Mankins.” Matt chided. “It’ll be the worst five bucks you ever spent. He doesn’t even give change.”

Austin blushed deeply.

“Matt,” I growled, finally turning to look at him, “fuck off, dude. Before I have to tell you again.”

“Defending the weirdos, eh?” Matt nodded, his grin like the Cheshire Cat. “I’m sure you can find a much better donor than Satan there.”

For the third time in a week, my fists were gripping handfuls of shirt tightly—and I was slamming Matt into the locker he was leaned against.

“Watch your goddamn mouth.” I snarled in his face.

Matt was looking at me with wide, fearful eyes as I held him against the lockers, my hands gripping his shirt violently.

“Fuck ‘im up, Ginjuh!”

I wasn’t sure who had screamed it from the other end of the hall, but apparently, I wasn’t being discreet. Then again, how does one slam another person against a locker in a crowded high school hallway in a discreet way?

“Dude!” Matt squeaked. “What is your problem, Ginjuh?”

“I’m so fucking tired of your mouth.” I snarled again.

Austin was suddenly at my side, pulling at my arms, urging me to let go of Matt, to let him away from the lockers. In Matt’s face, I saw my dad, my cousin who had branded me “Ginjuh”, everyone who made gay jokes, redhead jokes, speech impediment jokes. I wanted to hurt him and I wanted to feel good as I hurt him. In the back of my mind, I knew that Matt was harmless, if nor crass and ignorant, but in that moment, he represented everything over my lifetime that had caused me grief. Having just been essentially called a “queer” by my own father, there was nothing I wanted to do more than feel my fist slam into someone’s…anyone’s…face.

“That’s enough, Zachary.” I heard Mrs. Feldman’s voice from behind me.

Austin’s hands were still on my forearms and Matt was still in my grip, looking at me with fear and wonder, but I let my grip loosen up slightly.

“Let him go now, Zachary.” She said calmly. “You know this is wrong and I expect better of you.”

Mrs. Feldman. Our ever-patient, ever-calm, omnipresent principal. Her voice never went to a register above a normal speaking volume. She never had a bad word to say about anyone. She never once called me “Ginjuh”. Of course, she called me “Zachary” instead of “Zach”, but at least it was my actual name instead of some nickname I had been branded with due to a speech impediment. My hands fell away and Matt quickly stepped away from me, getting further away than I could reach if I chose to grab at him again.

“All right.” Mrs. Feldman said as I turned and Austin let go of my forearms. “You boys should be ashamed of yourselves. You know that?”

Her arms were folded over her chest and she was peering over the rims of her glasses at me. She wasn’t talking to the boys, plural, she was talking to me. Other students passed by us, snickering and pointing as Mrs. Feldman admonished us.

“I didn’t do anything,” Matt stated, dumbfounded.

“I highly doubt that, Matthew.” Mrs. Feldman’s eyebrow raised precipitously. “Now, all of you get to class.”

“Get to class?” Matt asked with an incredulous tone. “Ginjuh assaulted me, Mrs. Feldman!”

The bell rang and Mrs. Feldman looked around as students disappeared into classrooms. Once the hallway was empty, she leveled her eyes on Matt.

“He won’t be the last if you don’t get yourself to first period, Matthew.” She warned him. “And I suggest you stop harassing people in the hallways. I’m hearing things about you, young man.”

“But…but…”

“First period.” She pointed down the hallway with a sharp nail. “If I have to tell you again, you’ll get more than a talking to, Matthew.”