Nobodies

When I get to school the next day, I don’t see Frank hanging around my locker like he usually does, seeing as he’s a lost puppy. I look around for him a bit before seeing Jamia.
“Hey,” I call.
“Hey yourself,” she responds.
“Have you seen Frank?” I question.
Jamia smirks, “Why, I’m fine thank you.”
God damn it is the girl difficult. “HOW ARE YOU, JAMIA?!”
Jamia grins boastingly. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“So, have you seen him?” I ask.
“Sorry, kiddo,” Jamia replies. “I can’t say I have.”
I lean against my locker, worrying, “I hope he’s okay. I just… he’s so fragile right now. I don’t want him getting into trouble, ya know?”
“Maybe he’s just sick,” Jamia suggests.
“I sure hope so,” I mumble.
I see Frank later at lunch. His shirt is torn at the collar and he seems pretty ruffled.
“What’s wrong?” I ask him.
“What do you mean?” Frank questions. He’s got to be playing dumb.
“You look….” I gaze deeper into Frank’s light green eyes. “You look scared, baby.”
“Can we….” Frank glances over at Jamia, who spits out her food to flash a smile.
“No offense to Jamia, but can we not do this in front of her?” Frank asks.
“Sure,” I agree. I wave bye to Jamia before grabbing Frank’s arm, pulling him to his feet and into a nearby bathroom.
Once we’re in there, I begin,
“Alright, so, what was so bad that you couldn’t say it in front of Jamia?”
Frank sighs and pushes himself up onto the sink. He crosses his arms, allows his head to droop and admits, “Some kids were picking on me.”
“You… you’re getting bullied?” I question, unable to believe it.
“Not bullied! Just… this was a one-time thing,” Frank insists.
“Are you sure? Because you know…” I confess, “When you first called me a dyke, I thought it’d be a one-time thing.”
Frank starts to tear up. He stares at the floor as the tears roll down his face, apologizing, “Gee I…. I’m so sorry I ever did that to you.”
The door swings open, and Frank curls up on top of the sink as I turn my head to see who it is. It’s four boys that look familiar but whose names I don’t know.
“What do we have here?” one of them chuckles. He and his gang move past me, one of them shoving me to the ground, and make their way over to Frank.
“Leave him alone!” I cry from the floor.
A boy with glasses smirks at me before turning his attention back to Frank. He grabs a chunk of Frank’s hair, yanking his head up so his eyes match his. “Why are you crying, fag?”
Frank shrugs, and drops his head as he starts to sob more. His head is snapped up by the hair again, and he yelps out in pain.
“I said, why are you crying?” the boy demands, stressing the last four words.
Frank takes a deep breath before glaring at the boy. “Fuck…. You.”
“Oh! You’re such a pussy!” the boy laughs. “You’re all talk, Frank.” He grips Frank by his torn collar, tearing the hole in it even wider. “Now I’m going to kick your ass. If your little girlfriend doesn’t get out, I’m gonna kick her ass too. And I’d like to see your puny ass do a single thing about it.”
Frank spits straight into the boy’s face. The kid slams Frank’s head against the wall, then throwing him off of the sink and onto the floor. I quickly rise, in time to see the boys form a circle around Frank, all of them kicking him as he covers his head with his arms and wraps himself up in a fetal position.
I break into the circle, throwing myself over Frank and shouting, “If ANY of you cocksuckers touch him one more time I will personally rip your throat out and mail it to your family! So get the FUCK OUT!”
“Say that again, you little shit!” one of them barks.
“I said, ‘Get the fuck, out!’” I repeat. To prove my point, I punch a nearby boy in the crotch. He goes down, and his friends give me icy stares as they help him limp out of the bathroom.
“Frankie! Are you okay?” I ask, cupping my hand around Frank’s jaw and caressing his cheekbone with my thumb.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Frank replies. “But…. Those were the same kids that got me this morning.”
I smile sadly. “So it’s turned into a bullying thing?” Frank nods. “What did they do to you this morning?”
Frank mumbles, “You know, they just punched me in the stomach a whole lot, ripped my shirt in the process, called me a fag…” Frank begins to weep again as he adds, “Nothing worse than what I’d do to you.”
“Oh hon, you have just got to realize that I forgave you,” I respond, hugging Frank and holding his head close to my chest, stringing my fingers through his hair. “All that’s left is for you to forgive yourself.”
“I...” Frank sniffles. He wipes his eyes, exhaling heavily. “Okay.”
I grin at him and help him to his feet.
That night, as I lay in bed, I just feel like shit. I made Frank feel horrible for bullying me. If I would’ve just stood up for myself or moved like he fucking wanted me to all of those years ago…. This… this would’ve never happened.
I end up crying to the point I’m dry heaving. I’m a horrible person. I’m serving as no help in him getting bullied. Hell, I didn’t even tell anyone or try to stop them after the bathroom incident.
WARNING: SELF-HARM TRIGGER
I get my knife out from under my mattress, where it lies concealed in a plastic zip lock bag. I slowly get it out, holding it against my upper arm for a good minute or so until I finally dig it in, dragging it slowly across the width of my limb. Blood seeps out, and I can literally see skin on the end of the knife’s blade if I look closely enough. I go to my attached bathroom, dressing my wound quickly before going to bed.

Notes

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