Chapter Seven

Chapter SevenI drive home quickly and check my reflection before I go in to the house. The bruise across my face is a dark purple. All the hours of being out in the field has caused my sneakers to become caked in dirt and my clothes to be an unruly mess. My gelled hair has fallen out of place as well. Mother won't be happy with my appearance. I suck in a breath and grab my things out of my car, making my way to the house. I open the door and let myself in, peeking around the frame in case my mother is in view. I need to change before she sees my clothing. I take my chance and bolt up the stairs and into my room. I can hear cooking going on in the kitchen and I let out a breath of release. She won't see me until I come down. In my room, I shut the door behind me and stack my bag and binder on my desk. I grab some clean clothes and make my way to the bathroom. I strip down and jump into the shower, rubbing off all signs of dirt from my body. I'll have to wash my clothes myself or mother will get upset at their current state of filth. I shower quickly then dry off and hastily throw on my clothes. I'm already home later than usual and that will upset mother. I can't afford to waste any more time. I grab a small comb and run it through my hair, slicking it back to presentation. A knock on the door has me jumping in fright. "Harry," mother calls me, her knuckles tapping against the door. "Why are you home so late?" I panic knowing that she will not want to hear about how I'm being punished and forced to stay after school from now on. I glance at myself in the mirror, catching sight of the giant bruise. "Harry Styles," mother warns, rattling the doorknob. I feel relieved there's a lock. I sigh and open the door. There's no way I can hide this from her. Mother immediately gasps and grabs my face in her hand, tilting my head for a better view. "Who did this to you?!" She demands angrily. I step away from her, moving out of her hold. I reach back into the bathroom and retrieve my glasses. "Don't make me repeat myself," she threatens. I frown. Might as well get it over with. "This kid in class. It's no big deal." I try to move around her but she blocks me with her hand on the wall. "Mother I would like to go to my room, please." "No! No, you don't get to go to your room. I want an explanation as to what happened to your face! Have you even looked in a mirror?! Have you seen that giant purple-black-""Yes," I breathe out and cross my arms over my argyle sweater that I had thrown on. "I've seen it." Mother's eyes narrow and I know she's angry at me for getting in a fight. She never listens when it comes to me being involved in anything violent. In her mind, if I come home beat up, it was because I somehow started it. Every time I try to explain that they hit me, not the other way around, she doesn't listen. So I stopped trying to convince her it isn't my fault. "Go to your room," she says calmly but I know she's mad. "I will bring you your dinner." That's the last thing she says before walking down the stairs. I sigh. Looks like I'm not allowed to eat at the table tonight. Serves me right too. I've got a giant nasty bruise on my face and I've been sentenced punishment. I don't deserve to eat a table and eat dinner. I go to my room and sit on my bed, waiting for mother to bring me my food. I grab my bag and binder and dump it on my bed. Might as well start some homework. Mother shows up ten minutes later with a fruit salad cup. She hands it to me, takes another look at my bruise, and leaves my room. I eat in silence and work as well. The only sound is my pen against paper. I go to bed at ten after I've finished my work. I lay in bed and stare at the ceiling, willing myself to sleep. Veronica flashes across my mind and I shift in my bed. When I close my eyes I find myself picturing her brown waves and brown eyes. My thoughts keep me up.~~~~ The next morning I get to class at the same time as I always do and wait for everyone to file in. I adjust my dark green tie around my neck and examine my black and white argyle sweater. I pick a piece of lint off my black slacks and make sure my black dress shoes are spotless. Satisfied with my clothing, I touch my hair to make sure the gel has set in right. It has. Everyone takes their seats and Veronica sways in at the last second, giving Professor James a wink that I would happily interject. She takes a seat to my right and I glance over. I literally feel my mouth open at the sight of her exposed legs. Her denim shorts are cut really high with a lot of strings hanging off the openings. My mother would have a mental breakdown at how destroyed the denim is. Veronica's black shirt is plain and a normal tee, but somehow fits her form so well that her curves are screaming out for me. God what I would do if-"Marcel! Faggot! Quit staring at her and answer the questions, freak!" Something hits me in the back of the head and I look at the crinkled up ball of paper by my feet. Students snicker throughout the class. I dip my head down and feel my cheeks flush. "That's enough of that class. We all know how teenage boys are at your age!" I groan and put my head on the desk. Professor James has just made it infinitely worse. Veronica laughs and I watch her retold a note, holding it in her hand as she gets up and walks to the back of the class. I embarrassed her. I know I did. And now one of her friends called her away and she went. Because I'm so embarrassing. Good job, Harry. The rest of class we discuss To Kill a Mockingbird. I keep my opinions out since I can't seem to find my tongue. It's only a Tuesday. I'll have to wait for the weekend till everyone forgets about my actions. And even then, people will still be talking about it. That's how things went in high school. Especially when it came to me. I rush out of class as soon as the bell rings and ignore the shouts and hollers of the students making fun of me. I clutch my binder to my chest and quickly go to my locker. I have to be at my next class in five minutes but I feel like dropping off my unneeded belongings. A foot suddenly sticks out in the middle of the hallway and I fall, my binder tossing out of my hands and opening, releasing my pages from within. Everyone laughs, pointing down at me as I crawl around grabbing my papers. I feel my glasses fogging up and I bite down on my tongue hard, refusing to cry. I need to stop crying on school grounds. I grab all my papers, not a single person offering to help me. If this was a cliche story written in a parallel universe, I'm pretty sure Veronica would have shown up. But no, this is reality. Once I've gotten all my papers I just shove them back into my binder, not bothering to put them in the rings. I've wasted four minutes picking up the mess and I've only got one left to make it to class. I won't be able to drop things off in my locker after all. I groan and rush to class, holding my glasses up with one hand and everything else with the other. Tuesday is not looking good so far.