RAGE (6 page)

I had a close call with Dominic in the cafeteria, but it didn’t develop into anything. He walked past me, slapped me on the forehead as he went by, and called me a shithead. My stomach knotted in anger, but I was glad that’s all he’d done. Maybe he’d done enough to me for the day and would let me be.

Yeah. And maybe frogs would fly out of my butt.

Although the day was going smoothly, I should’ve suspected it wouldn’t end that way. They rarely did.

It was in P.E., and nothing good ever happened in P.E. Case and point, yesterday’s diarrhea incident. I didn’t even ask to sit out this time. I just walked in and sat on the bleachers, near the door. Surely by now, Mr. Laughlin knew that I wasn’t an athlete, and no matter how many laps he made me run I never would be.

I watched the girls play basketball on their half of the court and the boys play on their half. But mostly, I watched Carly. I couldn’t help but notice that her shirt fit tightly across her recently developed chest, or that her shorts were short enough to show more than a little of her legs. I enjoyed watching her. From the tingle I felt in my underwear, I enjoyed it too much.

Quickly, I looked away, trying to take my mind off her. If anyone saw what was going on in my lap, they’d think I was a pervert.

I saw Mr. Laughlin looking at me. I saw him motion to me to follow him, then turn and walk into the locker room area where his office was located.

Slowly, I walked around the court. I didn’t know what he wanted, but it was probably about me sitting out all the time or sitting out today without asking him. I wondered what my punishment would be. A stern lecture about how I needed the exercise and the experience of being on a team? I’d heard it before. Or maybe he would send a note home with me. I had thrown more than a couple of those in the trash. Or maybe he’d threaten to fail me. I’d add it to the list of other classes I was failing.

I turned right at the corner, going from the gym toward his office. I made a left at the next corner. His office was at the end of the short hallway. To the right was the locker room.  That’s where Dominic and Taylor were waiting for me. Unfortunately, I didn’t see them in time.

Dominic stepped behind me and clasped one hand over my mouth and the other around my waist. Taylor jumped in front of me and grabbed my legs.

I looked down the hall to Mr. Laughlin’s office, where he stood with his back to the window, reading a piece of paper. He was of no help to me. He didn’t even know I needed his help.

I yelled for him anyway, though it was muffled by Dominic’s hand. I bit his bitter-tasting fingers as he and Taylor carried me out of the hallway and into the locker room. Dominic cussed at me as they carried me to the far side of the room, behind a row of lockers.

They dropped me onto the cold, hard concrete floor and began kicking me.

I rolled onto my side and tried to protect my face and head. My ribs and back took most of the blows, except for the one that landed squarely in my crotch. Any tingle that had been there because of Carly was definitely gone now, replaced by a deep, throbbing agony that seemed to grow more intense by the second.

“Stop,” I yelled. Of course they didn’t. Why would they? Because I said so?

“Shut up shit for brains,” Dominic yelled, kicking me again. He was aiming for my head but I saw it coming and managed to roll over, blocking it with my shoulder.

“Stop,” I yelled louder.

Dominic stepped around me and sat on my chest, pinning my arms under his legs. It was hard to breathe, but by this time, I wished I’d never breathe again. I wanted him to sit there on my chest, smothering me until I died. It would bring me a sweet relief.

But instead of killing me as I’d hoped, he began slapping me across the face, back and forth. Left cheek, right cheek, left cheek again. Then he spit on me. A big wad of his mouth water landed directly in my left eye.

“You’re such a damn loser, Boozer,” he said. Then, to Taylor he said, “Get his pants.”

Dominic began pulling at my shirt. He yanked it up and over my head, fighting my weak, flailing arms while Taylor unfastened my jeans and pulled them down my legs. I tried to kick him, but it was hard to fight with barely any air. Then, just as my back kissed the cold floor, I felt Taylor take off my shoes.

I looked up at Dominic as he tossed my shirt over his shoulder. Taylor caught it, wadded it up, and tucked it under his arm along with my jeans and shoes.

I sucked in as much air as I could and said, “I hate you.”

Dominic laughed. “You should, Boozer.” Then, he unzipped his jeans.

“What are you doing, Dominic?” Taylor asked.

“Shut up. Come around here and hold his arms.” Taylor did as he was told, as usual. “Watch and learn,” Dominic said. He laughed as he pulled out his wiener and aimed it at my face. Just as I realized what he was going to do, a yellow stream emerged from the tip and quickly made its way to my face.

I turned my head quickly to the left. He aimed that way. I jerked my head to the right. He aimed that way too. I laid there, arms trapped under him as he sat on my chest, barely getting any air to begin with, as he peed on my face from only inches away. All I could do was hold what little breath I had in me and keep turning my head from side to side, trying to avoid his urine as much as I could.

When I told him I hated him, it had been an understatement.

I felt the anger inside me swell, and could feel the heat of my boiling blood. My fists were clenched so tightly my knuckles throbbed.

And the pee continued.

I was starting to think that he would pee forever. But before I could find out, the darkness found me.

When it left me, I was alone. I opened my eyes, smelled pee, and suddenly remembered everything that had happened. I was furious with those two, but the feeling wasn’t as strong as it had been earlier. I no longer felt the heat of my blood, no longer felt it pumping through my veins with every beat of my heart, no longer heard the whooshing sound as it rushed past my ears.

I sat up slowly. My face stung from Dominic’s slaps. My ribs ached from his punches and kicks. It didn’t feel like they’d broken any bones, but I wasn’t in top shape.

I crawled over to the corner, every muscle in my body aching, and leaned against the cold wall. I drew my knees up to my chest, leaned my head back, and closed my eyes and cried. Not the tears-running-down-my-face-silently crying either. This was full-on soul-shaking, bone-rattling sobs that made my throat and chest hurt. And I couldn’t stop it once it started.

The worst of the crying was over by the time the rest of the boys came into the locker room to change back into their regular clothes. Tears were still rolling down my cheeks, falling onto my naked legs but the sobs were over.

No one had a locker on this side, so no one had a reason to come back here.

But one boy did.

His name was Jacob. He’d never bullied me, but he wasn’t a friend of mine. In fact, I couldn’t remember a time I’d ever talked to him or him to me.

He walked around to the end of the row of lockers to retrieve a shoe someone had tossed. He picked up the shoe and upon standing, saw me. He froze for one, maybe two seconds, and then went back to his life.

I must’ve been a sight to see. A naked boy, curled up into a ball in the corner, crying, bruised and battered, and covered is someone else’s pee.

I didn’t blame him. I would’ve walked away from me too.

I sat there for a while not thinking of anything. As my anger faded, so did my strength. I was drained. I wanted to sleep, but couldn’t sleep where I was so I got up. Barefoot and wearing only my underwear, I slowly walked around the end of the row of lockers.

The locker room was now empty, but for the heavy smell of sweat and urine and developing testosterone. I looked around the room for my clothes, but didn’t find them. I certainly couldn’t walk around the way I was, so I opened the nearest locker and took out the clothes and shoes. I put them on and left the locker room, holding up the shorts with my hand so they didn’t fall down. I didn’t know whose clothes they were, but the guy must’ve been huge.

No one was in Mr. Laughlin’s office. No one was in the gym. I walked out the side door of the gymnasium and saw that no one was in the parking lot, either. I must’ve sat in that corner much longer than I’d thought.

I walked slowly with a fistful of waistband and my head down, not wanting to go home. I never wanted to go home, but I had nowhere else to go.

The first thing I noticed when I walked into the house was my mother sitting at the kitchen table drinking a glass of water and eating crackers. It surprised me so much I stopped in my tracks.

She glanced at me quickly, and then looked away.

“Hey, Mom.”

“Hey.”

“What are you doing home?”

“Power’s out at the diner. There’s something wrong with the line. It flickered for about an hour before going off completely. Electric company’s coming to look at it. Jack closed down until tomorrow.”

I looked around. “Where’s Travis?”

“He went to the bar with Dale and Mike. You hungry?” she asked, offering me some crackers.

I walked over to the table and sat across from her. She slid the package of crackers toward me. I took one and nibbled on it, more for the time with her than for the food. I didn’t have much of an appetite at the moment.

“I can make you something else if you want,” she said.

“No. That’s okay.” I really wasn’t hungry, but I also didn’t want to make her do anything. She worked so hard, she deserved to just sit there. Besides that, we didn’t have much else.

“Suit yourself,” she said. “Where’d you get those clothes?”

“Somebody’s locker at school.”

She drew her eyebrows together and squinted her eyes a bit like she always did when she was confused or suspicious.

“Whose locker? And where are your clothes?”

“Some kids took them.”

“Who took them, and how’d they get them?”

I told her about the dead cat, the diarrhea incident, the poop in my backpack, and the taking of my clothes. I didn’t even leave out the part about Dominic peeing on me. I hadn’t wanted to tell her. I didn’t want her to worry. But once I started, I told her all of it. Well, all the stuff that happened at school. I still couldn’t bring myself to tell her about Travis.

After hearing the story, she shook her head. “That’s all part of growing up, Brian. Things like that make us the people we grow up to be. It makes us strong. You’ll see. Going through these things may seem horrible now, but it’ll benefit you in the end. You’ll grow up to be a strong, independent man.” She nodded, winked, and took a drink of water.

I wondered if she was right. I surely wasn’t the only person who’d been picked on and teased and bullied at school. And I probably wasn’t the only kid who’d been raped by his step-father. But it sure felt that way to me.

“Mom, there’s other bad stuff happening to me.” I wasn’t sure how to tell her, or if I even should. But I thought I’d give it a shot. After all, it wasn’t often I got an opportunity like this, where it was just her and me. Travis wasn’t here to lie to her and cover up what he was doing.

“Oh? Like what?” she asked, starting on another cracker.

“Well, stuff with Travis.” I wasn’t sure how to say it.

“What kind of stuff, Brian? I have a headache and don’t feel like playing these guessing games with you.” She finished her cracker and stood. I watched her take her glass to the sink. She walked back over to the table and stood, with her hands on her hips, looking at me expectantly.

“Well?” she asked again. This time, I thought I detected some annoyance in her voice. But I could’ve imagined it.

I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. “He’s mean to me.”

“He may be strict, Brian, but like I said, it’ll make you a better person. You may not see it now, but believe me. It’s for your own good. Besides, you’ll be grown in a few years and move out. It’ll all be forgotten then.”

I thought of telling her the rest, making her see that it wasn’t just that he was strict. It was that he beat me and raped me. And even if it was over in a few years, it would never be forgotten.

But before I could say anything else, she rubbed her temples and walked away, heading to the bedroom to undoubtedly collapse onto the bed and sleep the rest of the night. I decided to let it go. I didn’t want to bother her with my problems anyway.

I showered and dressed in my own clothes. I thought of a way to return the ones I’d borrowed. I didn’t have a backpack so I’d have to carry them to school under my arm. If I left home early and put them back before everyone else got to school, no one would ever notice that I’d borrowed them, and no one would see me walking around with a load of laundry under my arm. I threw them in the washer and washed them, along with my clothes from the week so far.

With Travis at the bar, I went into the living room to watch television. When he was home, I stayed in my room. I didn’t want him to notice me. If he did, one of two things would happen, and I hated them both. So I rarely watched anything on television. But he was gone, and I was watching a sitcom I found pretty funny. I kept the volume low so I wouldn’t wake my mother.

I had finished that sitcom and another, and was halfway through the third when I heard Travis pull into the driveway. I quickly turned off the television and ran to my room. I listened as he stumbled his way down the hall toward his room, sighing with relief when he passed my door.

But now I had a dilemma. I needed to dry the clothes, but I didn’t want to draw his attention. I had no false beliefs that he forgot about me until I made noise or until he saw me. But I knew that the less I made him notice me, the better I was able to fly under his radar. It was like being in a crowded room. Everyone knew you were there, but until you screamed, no one paid you any attention.

So I waited a while, giving Travis plenty of time to fall asleep. I crept from my room to the laundry room. I didn’t want to run the dryer because that would be loud enough to wake him. And more importantly, my mother. So I hugged all the clothes to my chest, making my t-shirt damp, and headed back to my room.

I hung clothes over the curtain rods, over the closet door, over the lamp, and anything else I could find. They wouldn’t be as soft as if they’d been dried in a dryer, but they would at least be dry.

I quietly crawled into bed and curled up on my side, which was still sore from the kicking. I fell asleep thinking about what my mother had said, and wondering if all this would make me a better person.