AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She helped me sit up. I felt like shit and told her so. She wiped at her cheeks, then patted my shoulder. Mom handed me the ice bag, which I placed on my face as she rubbed small circles on my back.
“Jonah, can you tell us what happened?” Principal Foster asked, hovering behind the nurse. I’d met Principal Foster when I first came here. There had been some sort of PR thing where I’d posed in my new uniform, smiling, while shaking hands with the principal. He was an older White guy with snowy hair and dark-framed glasses.
I relayed what had taken place. Mom rubbed my back harder when I repeated what had been said to me and Tyler right before Tyler had fired back at Miles. Then, the punch had come. After that, things were kind of hazy.
Principal Foster looked pissed. “It’s unforgiveable that you were hurt on school grounds. Mr. Brooks and the other young men who were with him are in my office awaiting their parents. We’ll deal with them appropriately, make no mistake. We do not allow fighting on school grounds, nor do we condone verbal attacks based on race, gender, or sexuality. I wish this issue had been brought to our attention before it escalated, but now that the school knows, it will be dealt with swiftly. Mrs. Robinson, please take Jonah home. He’s excused for the rest of the week to recover. If he needs to be out next week, we will require a doctor’s note. Again, on behalf of the staff and management of Chesterford Academy, you have my deepest apologies.”
Mom said nothing. I mumbled a thanks. Principal Foster hustled out, his back stiff, his gait purposeful. I hoped he laid into Miles big time.
“Well, at least they have the incident recorded and several dozen witnesses,” Mom whispered while trying to help me into a bulky sweater she had brought from home. It was my favorite one, a thick blue cardigan my grandmother had knitted for me before she passed away. It had a few holes here and there, but it was my sick sweater. And man, was I feeling sick all over. Every inch of me ached. “They won’t be able to blame it on the Black boy this time.”
“Mom, I did the things the school blamed on me,” I tried to get out, but my words were garbled. I’d done the crime with Tyler, and I’d deserved the time, or suspension, or whatever. I knew she was probably referring to the wider picture, but I felt compelled to say something.
For what it was worth.
Nurse Wright made a sound in the corner while filling out forms. I eased my arm into the right sleeve, then the left, then tenderly got to my feet. The room didn’t spin this time, and my stomach didn’t heave, so that was good. If I never threw up in front of half the student body again, that would be awesome. Nothing says cool dude like a man with his head in a trash can making sounds like a cat coughing up a hairball.
Mom signed me out, and we trudged down the silent halls. We stopped at my locker. My eyes were so swollen that I couldn’t see the lock well, so Mom had to enter the combination. Once we had my books and my coat, she walked me outside. The cold air smacked me in the face with the force of a right hook from Miles the Meathead.
“We’re parked in front,” Mom said gently, toting my backpack and my books. I felt like hammered shit, to quote my father. “We’re going to the walk-in clinic to get some X-rays of your nose.”
“It’s fine,” I replied as I huffed icy cold air into my lungs. I hated breathing through my mouth. “Give me… character,” I added to, hopefully, stop her from spending more cash on my face. If it was broken and crooked, who cared? Chicks and dudes dig scars and busted noses. “I’ll tell people… I was in a bar fight.”
She snorted sadly. Someone called my name. I glanced to the left to see Tyler racing at me, fully geared for hockey aside from his skates, with my camera in his hand. How had I not noticed it was missing?!
“Hey, oh man, you look like you got punched by Adler Lockhart,” Tyler whispered as he skidded to a halt on the frosty sidewalk. “Emily Lynch had it. She picked it up in the hallway after Miles hit you. She gave it to me because…” He scratched at his head, mussing up his bright pink hair. “I don’t know why. She thought we were friends since you took that punch for me. Why did youdothat?”
Mom took my camera before looking from Tyler to me. I shrugged. “I didn’t want him to hit you, I guess.”
My mother pressed a tiny kiss to my hair. Tyler stared at me as if I were a troll that had just recitedHamlet. I totally felt like a troll right now. My face had to be frightening as hell.
“Thanks,” Tyler said softly, his expression murky with confusion. “If there’s anything that I can do to pay you back just—”
“Come visit me?”
Tyler’s green eyes flared. “You mean like at home?”
“Yeah, please. I don’t really have any other friends.”
Tyler stared openly.
“We better get you to the clinic. Tyler, thank you for looking out for Jonah’s camera while he was incapacitated. And please, come visit him while he rests up from the attack.” She gave Tyler a warm, but oh-so weary smile.
Mom steered me to our car, opening the door for me, then tucking me into the passenger seat as if I were Polly’s age or something. Not going to lie, her fussing felt good. Tyler stood on the sidewalk, wind blowing his bubblegum hair as the naked trees on the quad shook and shuddered, watching me trying to watch him. My vision was now nothing more than slits. When the car started, Tyler raised a hand. I did the same.
Mom pulled away from the school. I let my head fall back to the rest, sighed, and prayed Tyler would drop by while I was home, even though I was sure he wouldn’t.
ChapterEight
Tyler
“Mr. Corrigan?”
I didn’t have to turn to know that Principal Foster was right behind me—no one else called me Mr.anythingin quite the same way, and it was usually before he explained boys had a lot of energy and that, maybe, if I didn’t have pink hair andeverything else,I might not have been a target for the moreboisterouskids. I can’t say he excused everything and left me hanging—there was always a punishment for anyone caught intimidating me or others—but there was always the warning that the only way to stay safe was to maybe,possibly if I wantedto, conform.
He was all talk about no fights on school grounds and apologizing to my mom about something that happened to me, but after that, it was always that casual warning to keep my head down. I didn’t know if he was being sympathetic or not.
“Tyler?” he asked, and this time, stuck to just my first name.
