Stupid Little Blue Haired Boy (boyxboy)

Vier.

One and a half more years, you can make it through.

High school is a nightmare.

I need a smoke.

My fingers twitch in my pockets. Two more days of this seems too much to deal with.  I should go home.

If you go home, I tell myself, then you can't visit Justin later.

I don't know why I force myself here when there's no visible reward. Getting my head shoved into a set of blue locker doors isn't exactly the first thing on my mind in terms of pleasure. In fact, it's not even on my list.

If Justin were here...

But he's not. He's six feet under the ground.

A flash of blue darts by my left, stops, and darts back at me.

"Heeeeeeey! It's you again!" Timmy grins up at me. He's a good head shorter than me, and bursting with energy.

It's unnatural for eight o' clock on the morning.

A couple of kids sneer, but most of them just leave us alone. One has the generosity of yelling, "the fag don't speak, scene-queen," before heading on his way.

"Do you know where the office is? I'm supposed to be there before first period but I got kind of lost."

And nobody had the decency to ask him if he needed some help finding his way. Unbelievable.

I point in no specific direction. His nose wrinkles up in confusion.

Just.

Like.

Justin's.

"That's the ceiling," he states, and then tugs my sleeve. "How about you show me? You look like you could do with getting out of this hallway."

I can't argue with that. I lead him towards the outside courtyard and across the mist soaked grass. The office is on the far side of school, out of place and sticking out at an awkward angle off the side of the gym. The artificially happy light glows out the windows, foggy on the inside and dripping with condensation.

I point again, hoping he won't insist that I enter, but he has other ideas.

I allow myself to be pulled through the door. It seems any fight I had left disintegrates with his contact on my skin.

"How can I help you?" The woman behind the desk smiles falsely over the counter.

"Hi," Timmy starts, "I'm Timmy McKinn-"

"McKinnon," she finishes for him. "The new student."

"Yup! That's me."

She turns to face me before recognizing the just inches of face visible behind shaggy bangs. "Hello Damian."

I give her a nod.

"Damian." Timmy rolls my name around in his mouth. "Is that your name?"

Sure kid.

"I like that."

The lady returns with his schedule. "So, these are the classes you have been enrolled in here, and the room numbers are right next to the period." She points out where each class is on a printout map. By the time she's finished, it's well past the late bell.

"I suppose I'll have to write you both late passes. Damian, you have...?"

I don't answer her. Jackman.

"Psst.." the boy beside me whispers. "Who's your first period?"

"It's alright," she assures Timmy, "he hasn't spoken for quite some time now. I'll just look it up on the computer."