The Guitar Tutor

When I was done I couldn’t believe what I had just said. I sat there, dazed, until I had to go to my next lesson.
Music.
With Mr Way.
I walked into the classroom ten minutes late. I sat down at the remaining keyboard and got my sheet music out. He came up to me straight away and I started fidgeting nervously.
“Hi, you’re the one that I'm teaching guitar from now on, right?” he asked. I nodded, my cheeks going crimson. I looked down at the keyboard to hide my face. He sat down next to me.
“So can I hear your piece?” he asked, putting on the headphones. I stuttered. My mind went blank, I couldn’t remember anything. I couldn’t remember my piece, I couldn’t remember anything about myself. All I could think about was him.
His eyes.
His fucking hazel eyes and his bright red fucking hair.
“Are you ok?” he asked. I just realised I had been completely silent for ten seconds.
“oh, yeah, sorry I just zoned out.”
He chuckled “you do that often?” he asked, brushing his hair back with his hands.
Fuck he looked cute doing that.
I laughed “I try not to.”
My hands miraculously started working and I played my piece again. He watched my fingers glide over the keys carefully with an intense concentration glazed over his eyes. I finished my piece and he took the headphones off and handed them to me.
“I thought that was very good, I can definitely see the improvements. Well done.” He started to get up, but laid eyes on my burn, which had now been reduced to a small pink patch.
“oh, and how’s your hand?” he asked, tentatively taking it and stroking his thumb along the mark. I tensed up. He looked me in the eyes. I couldn’t even tell what he was thinking. All I could feel was his skin on mine for what seemed like forever. I just wanted to be stuck in that moment for the rest of my life, without having to worry about anything else.
“Anyway,” he said, snapping out of it quickly “I'm looking forward to seeing what you can do with a guitar on Monday.” He smiled and left.
I let out the breath I was holding for that whole time.

The bell rang for lunch and I automatically walked to the back of the canteen, then I remembered I was pissed with Jamia. I turned the corner and saw her. I immediately turned the other way.
“Frank, don’t be like this.” She said, running after me. I stopped.
“No Jamia, don’t act like you’re the wounded one. Don’t act like you were doing me a fucking favour.”
“Frank, please, I'm sorry. I was stupid. I just wanted it to stop. I don’t like seeing you unhappy like this.”
“yeah well done, you really taught them.”
“Frank, please forgive me. I’ll get down on my fucking knees and beg if I have to.” She hitched up her grey regulation skirt and got down to her knees.
“Frank, I'm literally on my fucking knees. Please forgive me. I just want them to stop. I don’t want you to feel like this anymore.”
“WHY SHOULD I FUCKING FORGIVE YOU?! I’ve forgiven you so many fucking times already and you haven’t stopped! You haven’t given a shit! Saying sorry means you’ll never do it again, Jamia. And I know how much bullshit that means.”
“Frankie, please, I will stick up for you to the end of the earth. I would crawl through the very fucking depths of hell if it meant I could make you happy. God-fucking-damn it Frank, I would sell my soul to the devil. Just fucking forgive me.”
I dropped to the ground and started crying, leaning against the back wall of the canteen. The tears left my eyes in a mass exodus of salt water. The floodgate had just been completely demolished and now every single shitty little emotion came flooding out of my eyes. She immediately dropped to the ground and embraced me.
“I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.” She whispered into my ear repeatedly. We stayed like that until the end of lunch.

The last two lessons of the day flew by and I had almost forgotten about me telling Mrs Fischer about Brandon. I walked out of my classroom and just got past the courtyard outside the music block until I fell face-first onto the concrete. I got released quite late, it was fifteen minutes after we were meant to be released so the courtyard was completely empty.
Empty except from the pricks that had tripped me up.
Brandon and his whores.
“Did you go crying to your mummy, fag? You fucking grassed us up and you’re gonna fucking pay for this shit.” Brandon screeched, him and his whores repeatedly kicking me in my already bruised ribs. I screamed out in pain and Brandon grabbed the top of my hair and pulled me up to my feet, my hair ripping out in this grip.
“let’s see if you can cry for your mummy now, fag.” He gritted his teeth, cracked his knuckles and his fist met my nose in a painful punch. Pain shot through my face and I heard a crack. Hot blood streamed out of my nose and I fell to the ground. My eyesight had considerably darkened and my ears were ringing. I suddenly felt an immense blow to the back of the head. They kept repeatedly kicking me in the back of the head and by now, my eyesight had completely gone and I could only see coloured splotches in front of me. I was almost unconscious.
“GET THE FUCK OFF OF HIM!” I heard someone scream past the ringing in my ears. The boys immediately dispersed and the blows to my head stopped. I couldn’t move. My head was throbbing like a bitch and I could barely see or hear anything. All I could focus on was the ridiculous amount of pain I was in. my ribs felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing them with a barbed knife and my head felt like a cracked egg shell. I had no idea how I didn’t pass out.
I saw someone out of the corner of my eye approach me. I tried to cry out but my lungs were full of knives and my head was cracked in two. I felt the vibrations of his steps through the concrete. He knelt down to me and tapped me lightly on the shoulder.
“Can you hear me Frank?” he said, urgently. I tried to make a noise, the effort killing me.
He scooped me up in his arms, carefully trying not to hurt my ribs.
All I saw was a flash of fiery red hair and worried hazel eyes before I passed out completely.

Notes

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