School of the Damned

-Andy's POV-

I re-applied my makeup while waiting at the bus stop. I already received enough unwanted stares without my face covered in thunderstorm bruises. As the bus pulled up and I climbed on, I kept my eyes down, sensing the uneasiness settle in. Mothers held their children closer to them, old people cast disapproving glances, normal people just tended to do a double take when they saw me. I had grown used to it all, there was a price to pay for dressing like I did in today’s society. I was nearly in the very back of the bus when I realized that it was extremely crowded, leaving the only seat next to a mom with a toddler and a little boy. Oh joy. Note the sarcasm.
“Excuse me, but do you mind if I sit here? There’s nowhere else,” I asked politely, my deep voice startling the woman. Her eyes scanned the bus, searching for another option.
“Feel free,” she sighed, picking up her cell phone and dialing a number as I took my seat. Probably a way of ignoring me in a less awkward fashion.
“Thanks.” I put my earbuds in and blasted Motionless in White, my favorite band that always found a way to make me smile when nothing else did. It was then that I noticed a small clinking noise muffled underneath the guitar solo of their song America. I looked over to find the little boy playing with the chain hanging by my black jeans. I paused the music and took out my earbuds.
“What are you doing?” I asked in my lightest, kid-friendly voice. The kid stared at me with wide eyes.
“What is this?” He questioned, lifting it up. “Why are you wearing it if it’s so heavy?”
“It’s a chain,” I explained, feeling a nice, unfamiliar sensation settle in. This kid wasn’t afraid of me at all; he was curious and talking to me normally. Huh. It was typical for strangers to give me the cold shoulder. His mom was busy on her phone, she most likely wouldn’t have approved of him speaking to me.
“Yeah, but why do you wear it?” He repeated, twisting it in his tiny fingers and examining it quizzically. I shrugged.
“I like the way it looks and it gives a comforting weight.”
“Oh. How old are you?”
“16.”
“Ha, I thought you were a grown up,” he said, thinking for a moment. “I mean, because you’re really tall,” he added. I couldn’t help but chuckle and crack a smile. “What’s your name? I’m Tommy,” the boy introduced himself proudly.
“Andy,” I replied. “How old are you?”
“Five.”
“Well, Tommy,” I said to him truthfully, “you’re more grown up and mature than some adults I know.” A huge grin spread across his cheeks, lighting up his whole face.
“Really?” He asked, unbelieving. I nodded.
“Really. Because you don’t judge people for wearing studded leather jackets, black combat boots, dark clothes, or chains, like most people do when they see someone like me,” I told him as the bus halted to a stop and I stood up to leave.
“Honey, stay away from that man,” Tommy’s mom whispered to him, taking a break from her phone call to pull him closer as Tommy waved goodbye. I shook my head with a sad smile and stepped off the bus.

-Time Skip-

“Andy, you’re home!” My mother cried as soon as I set foot in the doorway, hugging me. “The principal called and told us everything,” she gasped, pulling away and tugging me towards the couch. “Sit down right now so we can talk about this. I want to know everything.” I sighed.
“Kyle and his friends beat me up, that’s all.”
“That’s all? That’s all? Andy, this is serious. I want you to go to the bathroom sink right now and wash off all that makeup so that I can see the damage.”
“Mom…”
“Now!” I mumbled something about just fixing it half an hour ago and wasting cosmetics, but headed to the sink to do as she said. I dabbed a small cotton cloth with some makeup remover and began taking it off, cringing when I checked over the final image. Ouch, that’s worse than I assumed. They really got me badly, I thought. It only took a three second countdown as I entered the room before my mother screamed.
“Andy, you are switching schools, I am contacting those boys’ parents, speaking to the principal again, and complaining to the school board, do you hear me? This is completely unacceptable and I will not tolerate them treating you like this ever again!” She shrieked, grabbing the phone. “And I’m calling your father right now to tell him everything.” But there was one thing I really cared about.
“Can I re-do my makeup now?”
“No, I want him to see it for himself. Hey, darling,” she greeted him, tone changing when he answered. “Look, I need to tell you something about Andy…” I exited the room and started upstairs, not wanting to stick around to listen to any more of it.

-Time Skip-

I don’t remember falling asleep, or even going to bed, for that matter, but I woke up still in my clothes from yesterday the next morning with blankets tossed loosely over me. Through muddled vision, I rubbed my eyes and stared at the clock until it blinked into focus.
“10:00?” I gasped, leaping out of bed. “I’m like three and a half hours late for school, why didn’t you guys get me up?” I yelled down the stairs to my parents, slightly annoyed but grateful for the extra sleep.
“You’re not going to school today, Andy. Come down here,” my mother called back. Well, who was I to question no school? I made my way down the stairs, still dazed from just waking up.
“What is it?” I yawned, stopping by the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee before plopping down on the living room couch, where my parents sat across from me.
“Yikes, you look horrible, Andy. What’d those guys do to you?” My father asked with a wince, yet unable to take his eyes off my blemished face.
“Beat me up,” I shrugged indifferently.
“I swear, back in my day-”
“Charlie, not now,” mom reminded him, sparing me of another story. “So, Andy, we’ve found you a new school,” she continued, surprising me.
“Already? It’s been less than half a day. How’d you do it?” I inquired, taking a sip of my coffee and burning my tongue on it.
“Well, it’s a private school that one, wasn’t too pricey, and two, had enough extra space left over from the beginning of the year slots, so we actually enrolled you last night.” I was impressed. Way to go and get me out of that hell, mom! I chanted mentally.
“Wow, thanks!” I thanked them happily. “What school is it?”
“Well, um,” she started, glancing at dad for help. “Why don’t you tell him, dear?” He took a deep breath.
“It’s called Young Disciples Catholic Boarding School,” he said, breaking the news while managing to hold eye contact. I choked on my coffee, spitting it back into the cup and coughing, trying to breathe through nervous laughter.
“You’re kidding, right? Me, in Catholic boarding school? That’s a good one, guys. Funny joke and all, but where am I actually going?” They stared at me with blank expressions, and my face fell. Oh god. Oh god no. No, no, no, they had to be joking, that couldn’t be right, they wouldn’t do that to me, oh my god, would they?! “Guys, guys, you’re-you’re not serious, right?” I asked softly.
“Afraid we are, Andy. Your check in day is this Sunday.” This couldn’t be real. This wasn’t happening. A deep silence crept into the room, like a leaky boat slowly flooding with water.
“Well, thank you very much, but I think I’d actually prefer to stay where I am,” I told them nicely, setting the coffee down on the table and tucking my knees into my chest and wrapping my arms around them, putting my head down.
“It’s too late to take you out now, once you’re in, you’re in. Sorry, dear,” my mother responded. “Do you want to see the website?” She offered. My head shot up.
“Are they homophobic?”
“Are you planning to publicly come out?”
“No.”
“Then why should it matter?”
“It matters because even if they don’t know about me, I’ll still feel their hatred. What was it called again?”
“Young Disciples Catholic Boarding School.”
“Oh my god, I know that one!” I cried, hopping up from the couch and typing in the website on the computer. “It’s said to be an LGBT nightmare from people who’ve been-” I cut myself off, suddenly speechless. I had many words to say a moment ago, but now I had lost them. I had a voice mere seconds ago, but my throat had run drier than a lifeless desert. “There,” I finally managed to finish. This was it. The exact picture that a girl had posted online a couple months ago, sharing her horrible experience there. Of course, there was nothing on the website about how they treated LGBT students, but I remembered very clearly her words of warning, making a mental note and promise to avoid it. What had my parents just signed me up for? I turned around to face them.
“Are you aware of the way this school really works?”

Notes