Not My Hero

It’s only then I notice everyone is leaving. I gather my stuff while willing my heartbeat to slow down.

At this rate, I’ll die of a heart attack long before I can end things myself.COLTONBrie’s a mess, and it makes me worry that I made things worse for her at home.

The way she reacted when I woke her after math has been haunting me all day long. Growing up with an abusive father, I’ve felt my fair share of fear and saw it living in Brady’s eyes every day, but the look on Brie’s face… that was something else.

When I take my seat in history, I tear a page from my notebook and write the math homework down for Brie, in case she didn’t get it. Folding the paper in half, I stretch over and place it on Brie’s desk.

Her eyes dart to me for a split-second before they turn to the paper, staring at it as if it’s a snake. She sucks in a deep breath then reads it. A frown forms on her forehead, and she seems confused.

Maybe she struggles with math?

Mr. Donati walks down the aisle, dropping the graded papers on our desks. When he gets to mine, he says, “Great essay, Colton. Come see me after class.”

I expected as much. I nod, and when he moves on to the next aisle, I glance at the A+ in bold red at the top of the paper, but it offers me no satisfaction.

An A+ for the hell I went through.

A bitter sigh escapes my lips.

An A+ for Brady killing himself.

I’ll never understand how things work in this world.

My gaze drifts over to Brie’s desk, and I see she got a B- right before she slips the paper under her sketchpad.

Once Mr. Donati is done handing back all the essays, he gives us our homework for the day then starts with the lesson.

Brie’s knee starts to jump under her desk, and it once again distracts me. I turn my head slightly in her direction and see that she’s tense as hell. There so much anxiety pouring off of her.

I remember feeling like that, knowing the school day was at an end, and I had to go home and face him.

An overwhelming need to help her grows in my chest.

The bell rings, and I’m ripped back to the present. I gather my stuff and make my way to the front of the class while the other students clear out.

Mr. Donati waits until we’re alone, then he takes a seat on the edge of his desk and smiles at me. I’ve heard the girls talking, and I’m pretty sure half the class has a crush on him.

“How are you holding up?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” I give the automatic response everyone expects.

His blue eyes sharpen on me as he nods, and it gives me the impression he sees right through the lie. “My door is open any time you need to talk, Colton.”

“Thanks.”

I turn away to leave, but then he says, “None of that should have happened. I’m sorry it did.”

His words hit so hard, I struggle to get air into my lungs. It’s the first time anyone said sorry, and I didn’t expect the words to hurt so much.

It’s because they’re from the wrong person.

I nod and rush out of the class. I need to be alone, so I can shove all the emotions back down from where they’re creeping out of the darkest parts of me.

As soon as I step out of the building, someone grabs the paper out of my hand.

“What do we have here?” Michael says, an egotistical smirk plastered on his face as he begins to read my essay out loud, “I chose history because it’s easy.” He lets out a bark of laughter and gives me a condescending look. “Wow, I think my IQ dropped from reading that,” he taunts.

The second his eyes turn back to the paper, I lunge forward. I grab the essay back, and at the same time, my fist connects with his jaw.

I do my best to avoid violence because I fucking abhor it. Still, for this parasite, I’m willing to make an exception.

Michael falls to the side from the blow and grips his jaw as he climbs back to his feet. He lets out a chuckle that sounds more like a warning. “Now you’ve pissed me off.”

Stepping into his personal space, I growl. “I already have blood on my hands. Want me to add yours as well?” I see the hesitation creep into his eyes and spit out, “You’re nothing but a joke.”

Mr. Donati comes out, and I expect to be sent to the office, but instead, he snaps, “Break it up, guys. Go home.”

I bump my shoulder against Michael’s as I push by him and clench my jaw while I fight to regain control over the rage boiling in my chest.