Going to class, I think: This is my fault. None of this would have happened if I hadn’t hugged her. Who gave the report before Thunder? Becca!
She was pissed I refused her continuously and took it out on Naomi. She never liked her to begin with.
This is my fault.
Everything is my fault.
As I walk by the staff office corridor, I see Naomi packing her things in her office. I look around to ensure no one’s watching and then I go inside.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
She turns around. She doesn’t look like someone that’s just being fired. “It’s not your fault.”
“I should never have hugged you. Now you’re going to have to repeat your IT,” I say sadly.
“You were mourning. You needed comfort. It’s not your fault that’s not how they see it. You can’t control how people choose to see things, just as you can’t control what they do. Don’t blame yourself, okay?” She sighs sadly. “I won’t fail my T.P. I’ll find another school. I still have time.”
“How are you so calm?”
“Because I’ve been through worse… and I believe in Serendipity.”
“What’s that?”
“Remember when you wrote about Murphy’s Law?” I nod. “That was to teach you that you cannot control what happens in life. But that doesn’t mean you can’t have hope. Serendipity offers that. It means that anything that happens in life, whether they’re related or not, good or bad, lead to the same end, a good end. So no matter what happens in life, the end will be great. Isn’t that what matters, how it all ends?”
“That’s like saying everything is fated to end well.” She nods. “So you’re saying that Rich’s death, you leaving and the other problems I have in life will eventually lead to something good?”
“It may not look like it now, but yes. You just have to have faith. Because what else can you do but have faith?”
“But I don’t want you to go. You’re the only friend I have left.”
“You’re young. You’ll make more friends. Don’t worry.”
“What are you doing here?” someone asks behind me.
I turn around. The principal’s standing there. “Go back to class.” I hesitate. “Now!” he screams. I oblige. He enters into the office as I go out. He’s talking with Naomi, but I don’t hear anything.
I get to class. Becca is talking to Max outside our class. Other students are outside, but they’re blurred by my anger. I’m focused only on Becca.
I push her to the wall behind her and hold her there. “What did you do?”
“What is wrong with you!” she shouts, trying to wring free, drawing attention to us.
“You lied against her… again!”
Max tries to pull me away. He has the strength of a kitten.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Naomi! I’m talking about Naomi. You made the report. What did she ever do to you? Or were you just jealous and vengeful because I rejected you?”
She pushes me and breaks free with Max’s help. “I didn’t do shit.”
“She didn’t do anything,” Max assures me. “I did.”
I’m thrown aback. “What?”
“You’re my friend. Did you think I wouldn’t notice when something is wrong? I…”
Blinded by rage, I ram my fist against his face, sending him straight to the ground. I climb on top of him and punch the side of his face. Someone much stronger than Max pulls me off him. “You piss of shit!” I scream.
The next time I’m in the principal’s office, he tells me I’ve been suspended for the week. He asks me to remain in his office while he calls my mom. It’s an hour before she comes and she isn’t happy for having to rush out of work.
The principal excuses me to talk to her. I already know what they want to talk about, why is he excusing me? I stand outside the office, waiting. They talk for nearly thirty minutes, but if felt like forever.
When she comes out she doesn’t talk to me, she just walks to her car. I don’t need an angel to tell me to follow.
“I’m sorry for fighting,” I say, trying to catch up to her.
She doesn’t say anything until we’re on the road. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I want to ask ‘tell you what?’ but I know exactly what she’s asking. “She never harassed me. You have to believe me. She’s my friend. She’s helped me… a lot.”
“That’s what they do to make you trust them so much you don’t know when you’re being harassed!”
“I’m sixteen, if I was being harassed I’d know!” I scream at her.
I’m tired of always been treated as a child. I’m pissed that my own mom doesn’t believe me. And I’m pissed that I might never see Naomi anymore. All she wanted to do was help me.
“Fighting in school, keeping things from your parents, and now you’re shouting at your own mother… what is wrong with you?”
I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing to say. I’m guilty of all those things, only not in the way she thinks.
She takes me back to her office, but asks that I remain in the reception. For over five hours I remain there, no food, no fun, and no mom. She’s too busy to have time for me. I’m bored out of my soul. I use my lunch money to buy something to eat when the hunger becomes unbearable. I was hoping mom would offer, but I guess she’s still pissed.
We get home nearly thirty minutes past three, the earliest I’ve ever been home on a school day. Mom still hasn’t said anything to me since telling me to remain in the reception of her office.
When my father comes he calls me down. I know she’s already told him when I see the look on his face. “Fighting, really?” I’m in no mood for his criticism right now. Mom can criticize me all she wants, not him. “Why didn’t you tell us about your teacher?”
I’m getting real tired of this question. “Because there is nothing to tell!”
“So your friend lied against her?”
“He’s not my friend.”
“Your teacher was preying on you and your friend reported her for you, now you’re saying he isn’t your friend? Do you have any one you consider your friend?”
“Yes. He’s dead.”
“Is it because of Rich?” mom asks, really sad. “Is that why you’re acting out? Are you depressed? Help me understand please.”
“There’s nothing to understand. I’m telling the truth but you’ve made up your mind. Naomi cared about me. She tried to help me through Rich’s death. She helped me in my studies. She was there for me. Did she do something wrong caring for the welfare of your child?”
“She’s a predator and I’ll make sure she pays for violating my child,” my father promises. It’s like a metal is clogging his ears.
“Maybe he’s telling the truth,” mom proposes. “Maybe she really cared about him. The fight cannot be excused, but maybe she was misunderstood.”
“She wasn’t. I had a feeling the first time I met her, I don’t know why I ignored it. He’s too foolish to know when he’s been brainwashed.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” I find myself asking. “What did I ever do to you? No, what did we ever do to you? Why do you hate us so much?”
“What are you talking about?”
I wave him off and start going upstairs.
“I’m talking to you!”
I don’t stop. I can’t look at him, not when I know how much of a liar he is. I don’t know why I’ve been keeping his secret for him all these while, destroying myself in the process.
I don’t sense the pull until I feel it. Someone grabs my hand and yanks me backwards. I fall down. My father’s standing over me. “I’m sick of your disrespect.”
Mom comes to his side. “Calm down, please.”
He pushes her away, but she doesn’t fall. I stand up immediately and scream at the top of my voice, “Leave her alone! Haven’t you hurt her enough? If you hate us so much, park out of the house already. Go live with your girlfriend.”
He stops short. “What?”
“Go and live with your girlfriend and leave us in peace. Wouldn’t you love that?”
There, I’ve said it.