Blackmailed
by Victor Thomas
Chapter 7
Kenny
I opened my eyes and saw the clinical white board above my bed. I missed the wooden ceiling that the sun and decades had tanned, the walls painted yellow and rich of life, and the gray linoleum floor that creaked under my feet. I would have wanted to wake up in Javier's bedroom because, more than anything, I missed him. And I hated him almost as much; perhaps more.
At this time on Sunday morning, we would have been sleeping in and then making out before breakfast. In the shower, he would have stood behind me, our naked bodies touching each other, with his arms wrapped around me. And then, he would take my cock in his hand.
I need to get him out of my head.
I couldn't have ever imagined I could be so pissed off, so aroused, and so tired at the same time. Even the last one was his fault as I had been rolling on my bed most of the night, thinking of my ex-boyfriend, and now an arising headache tickled my temples. I had never heard of anyone dying of anger, but if I had, it would probably have felt like this.
Ten minutes later, the sharpest edge of my anger had vanished, and I was left with a growing yearning and desire to know why he had broken up with me. I stared at my phone, not sure whether calling him would be such a brilliant idea after all. What if he was already dating someone else, and that was why he had wanted me to move back home. What if I wasn't handsome enough for him?
It had to be both. I put my phone down and my mind darkened. Why would such a hot guy even look at me? I wasn't athletic. I wasn't one of the cool kids at school. I wasn't anything. There were millions of reasons why he shouldn't even cast a glance at me, but I couldn't come up with one reason why he should.
The jerk wanted sex before dumping me like a used condom.
I rose from my bed and walked to the window, holding back my tears. I didn't want to cry; he wasn't worth it. And even if he was, I still didn't want to cry. Why was it so goddamn difficult to know what I actually thought about the guy? It didn't make it any easier that he had been so nice, and so gently, and so loving on our date. And then I had received the text saying he didn't want to date me anymore. Something didn't match, but I couldn't put my finger on it.
"Kenny, come here," mom shouted from the kitchen. "I need help with breakfast."
"Can I take a shower first?"
"I need you to stir the oatmeal while I prepare the omelets."
After my request for a shower was declined, I put on the same sweatpants and t-shirts I wore the previous day and walked to the kitchen. Mom stood by the counter, whisking eggs and milk. I looked inside the shiny stainless-steel pot on the stove and saw the same bubbling gray oatmeal I had eaten my entire life. The healthiest grain on earth, full of vitamins and fiber, and so fucking disgusting.
She atypically gave few instructions on how to use the spoon to stir the oatmeal, and I typically spoke little, so we prepared the breakfast in silence, which was fine. Unfortunately, it lasted only until we sat at the table to eat. It was her who broke the ice.
"How's school?" she asked.
"Fine."
"I'm so proud of you."
She gave a small smile, and even though I couldn't tell how genuine it was, I smiled back. School was a safe topic, nothing that made either of us uncomfortable. She took a sip from her coffer and straightened the neck of her shirt.
"I saw Mark and Pam at the grocery store yesterday," she said. "Jessica was there, too."
"Oh? How are they?"
"Jessica plans to study physics. Do you remember her?"
"I guess so. Vaguely."
I had been eleven or twelve when the Roberts visited us the previous time. Her patents had forced poor Jessica to play with me, which was awkward at first, but we had ended up getting along okay.
"You should apply to the same college."
"Huh?"
"She's beautiful, not to mention intelligent, and comes from a good family."
I froze. The spoon that was lifting oatmeal to my mouth landed back in the bowl, but my mouth stayed open. She had to be kidding, except she wasn't. My mom was the last person in the queue when god had dished out a sense of humor. No, she hadn't even found the queue. So, there she sat with that fucking hypocritical smirk on her face, waiting for me to say something.
"You mean I should start dating her?" I asked.
"Would that be so awful?"
"Yes mom, it would," I said, emphasizing each word. "I don't know how much clearer I can be about this, but I will clarify this with you right now. Ready? I. Am. Gay."
Her smile shrank from her face as her eyes lingered on me, full of disbelief, concern and, worst of all, disapproval. Saying nothing, she took the coffee cup in her hands and stared at the dark liquid like it would jump from the cup at any moment and spill on the pure white table cloth. Finally, she sighed, louder than was necessary, and continued eating her breakfast.
I'll never be enough for her.
I finished the oatmeal and left the half-eaten omelet on my plate. When she left the kitchen, she didn't ask me to finish my breakfast first, she didn't ask me to come back and clean the table, and only when I got to my room did I realize for the first time ever, she hadn't said anything. I didn't know if I should be pleased or scared. I forced my mind to choose the former, but I still closed the door behind me.
My phone was on the bed and I couldn't help checking whether there were any new messages from Javier. My hopes jumped high when I clicked the screen, and as quickly my mind turned dark when I saw the home screen with no sign of him trying to contact me. I fell down on my bed, closed my eyes, and squeezed the phone in my hand. And then it hit me. Perhaps there was still hope after all.
I fast forwarded everything that had happened between us, especially how he had picked me up from the gas station and saved me from being kidnapped to a ragged ranch in the middle of nowhere western Kansas, and what had happened in the restroom at the movie theater. What if he hadn't sent the message? What if it was Jorge?
With a broad smile on my face, I pressed the button on the screen. I heard the ringing tone and immediately decreased the volume so mom wouldn't find out we were talking. The longer I waited, the faster my heart was beating. I wanted so desperately to hear my boyfriend's sexy voice, but I only got the discouraging endless series of long beeps.
Please pick up.
I waited until it went to his voicemail. I tried again but the result was the same. Maybe he was somewhere and didn't notice his phone ringing. What if it was on silent? Maybe he was driving and couldn't answer. It required effort to block my mind from the alternative, that he didn't want to answer the call.
It was no longer my heart. Now it was my head that was pounding, and my skin felt too small for my bones. Just in case mom came into continue her monologue about Jessica, I closed myself in the bathroom and got in the shower, just to notice that even the warm water couldn't relax my restless mind. I already regretted that I had left my phone in my room. What if he called me back?
I squeezed a quarter sized amount of body wash onto a wash cloth and rubbed my arms. The shower did nothing to calm me down, nor did I feel refreshed. The stifling fatigue followed me everywhere and drilled deeper into my head when I walked back to my room, the towel wrapped around my waist. I however forgot it the moment I saw the good news on the home screen of my phone. There was a new message from Javier.
Eager and excited, I opened the message. My eyes had hardly scanned the first three words before my mind went numb. Had the message been any longer, I wouldn't have made it to the end.
'Don't call me again. It's better that we don't see each other anymore.'
My hand was shaking as I typed a single word that held all the weight in the world.
'Why?'
For an hour, I lay on the bed, starting at the same clinical white ceiling above my head and waited for an explanation. I needed some word; some small hope that he wasn't completely cutting me out of his life.
But he never replied.
I stuffed all the loose papers and books into my arms. I unlocked my phone and checked the time. My first class would start in ten minutes. Javier's locker, standing alone like a tombstone on the other side of the hallway, was locked and silent.
It's over. I never want to see you again.
The words were too hard to say aloud, even thinking them hurt too much. The front door opened, but I forced my gaze back to my own locker and the books I tried to stuff inside. It was irrationally difficult, either the locker had shrunk or my books had grown. I pushed the door closed, knowing that the pile of books and papers on the top shelf would collapse the moment I opened the door again.
It didn't matter. There was no reason to give a shit about some stupid school books when the entire universe had just collapsed, a black hole sucking my shining star. The physics teacher, Mr. Dobbs, apparently a wise man, had said that nothing came back from a black hole. Even though the gravitational attraction pulled particles together, those fucking holes were the end of everything, even light and now, hope.
I glanced at my phone again, then at Javier's locker, and finally at my phone again. I still had eight minutes so I should get going, but my legs didn't move. I needed a minute or two to weave my way through the crowded hallway. Would today be the first time ever I was late for a class? And why?
I exhaled slowly, turned around even slower, and took the slowest steps toward the classroom, checking that I had everything I needed. I only needed one book for English class, but I made sure I still had it in my backpack. After all, I had put it there over a minute ago and sometimes books just disappeared, didn't they?
It was still there, along with my notebook, obediently waiting for me at the bottom of my back pack. I cast a last lingering look at the locker, which belonged to the boy I had forgotten already. I was past him, the guy was ancient history to me, if even that.
I got halfway through the hallway when the front doors opened, letting the sunlight in, and there he was, more handsome than ever, if that were even possible. My feet stopped, like they were glued to the worn floor tiles. My head wanted to turn away, but my eyes followed his every movement.
"Oh, hi… sorry," he said.
The typical grin was gone as he passed me and rushed to his locker.
I nodded dryly and took a few more steps before I stopped in my tracks, my eyes glued on the wall in front of me. A horrible, sick feeling formed in my gut. I was over him, I really was, or at least I had been for a few minutes. And now he was there, so close that to kiss him I hardly had to do more than turn around.
Clearing my throat, I called, "Javier."
I didn't see him, but I could sense his body stiffen. There was no answer except the sound of books moving from a back pack to the locker, and the locker being shut. It didn't slam, but there was something cold and distant in his presence.
I turned around and saw my ex-boyfriend walking away. Apparently, we were not dating anymore, but this was ridiculous. Had the idiot decided not to talk to me at all, like he didn't even owe me an explanation? I sprinted after him, shouting his name.
When I rounded the corner, I saw him entering a classroom. Our eyes met, just for a second, but he finally looked me directly in the eyes. His face was severe, is eyes were dull, but the worst was the tiny shake of his head before he disappeared into the room.
"Javier!"
The words escaped from my lips, but it was too late. He was gone.
A student ran around the corner and bumped into me from behind. I lost my balance and hit my elbow on the vending machine while trying to grab hold of it. It hurt much less than the hard floor against my knees. Hugging the vending machine, I stood up and turned around.
"Shit, man, I'm sorry," Jason said. "Are you okay?"
"Couldn't be better," I said.
I limped past him toward my locker.
"It was an accident, I swear. I'm so sorry."
"I don't give a shit how fucking sorry you are," I muttered.
I got back to my locker when the bell rang, calling the last students still lingering in the hallway. I stared at the green metal locker and the blue lock hanging on the door. I should have been in class, but my fingers attacked the combination lock and turned the dial furiously. I tried twice without success, and even the third time wasn't a charm.
"Fuck!"
I kicked the door.
The bang echoed in the empty hallway and was soon followed by the sound of footsteps coming from the administration corridor. I managed to take a few steps back before Principal Haynes' rigorous eyes stared at me.
"Kenneth, why aren't you in class?" he asked.
I kept moving backwards.
"I… Javier…"
His eyes had turned to the locker and when I looked at it, I saw an ugly dent where my shoe had hit. Blood drained from my face; he wasn't stupid enough not to realize what had happened and who did it. I raised my hands like I was protecting my face and chest.
"Kenneth Sherman, care to explain?"
His voice was deep and demanding. His lips flattened and his eyes got harder as he walked toward me.
This was too much to handle. My mind blocked everything out, and I ran as fast as I could to the front doors. In the reflection of the glass doors, I saw him rushing to catch up with me. I couldn't stop, and my legs just kept going as I shoved my body weight against the doors, groaning as the handle hit me square in the gut.
The principal called me one more time, but I barely heard over my thundering thoughts and the gravel crunching under my shoes. Too afraid to look back, I opened the front door of my car and started the engine. Faster than I should have, I turned the car out of the parking lot onto the road leading toward home.
The bell rang twice as long as it usually did, or that was how it seemed anyway. The shrill sound filled my ears and slammed against my eardrums. I walked out of the classroom, imagining the heavy iron chains and cuffs connected to my arms and feet. It was time to pay for my actions on the previous day.
I wasn't naïve; I knew there would be consequences. In a few minutes, I would report to detention for the first time in my life. A month ago, I wouldn't have expected it to ever happen, but now I was surprisingly calm. I had nothing better to do anyway, and it meant forty-five minutes less time with my mom.
Giving way to other students rushing to freedom, I sauntered to my locker. The evidence of my temper tantrum was still there where I had kicked it. The bottom left corner of the door was bent, but not enough for anybody to push their hand inside, so my stuff should still be safe, if it mattered. Nothing seemed to matter anymore.
I was putting my unneeded books in the locker and then sticking them right back in my back pack. How should I know what I needed for detention without prior experience? Chris suddenly appeared out of the blue.
"Shit, man, what happened?" He stared at the damaged door. "Did they do that because Javier and you…"
"Long story." I closed the door. "I'll explain later. I need to get to detention."
It took a moment to sink in.
"What! You got detention?"
"Yeah. Haynes apparently wasn't happy I skipped yesterday," I said nonchalantly.
I began walking toward the classroom, but he decided the conversation wasn't over yet. After a few steps, I felt a hand on my shoulder, a sort of strong but friendly hand that stopped me, turned me around, and forced me to look my best friend in the eyes. His face was full of confusion.
"You… you skipped school?" he asked.
"Didn't you notice?"
He blushed. Of course, he had been so busy with Hannah he didn't even notice I wasn't at school. Still, I didn't want to blame my friend. It was nice she had found a great, or at least better boyfriend then me.
"Why? Don't say Javier lured you to do something stupid," he said.
I shrugged.
"Well, he dumped me. I guess this time for good."
"Oh… man, that sucks, but I don't get it. You didn't bother filling out an excuse form?"
I sighed.
"Mom would've loved to sign it. Besides, Haynes saw me running away. He even chased after me."
The thought of the old man scurrying along the hallway raised a smile on my face. It might have been stupid for me to run away, but if sitting in detention and doing my homework was the punishment, it was almost worth it. Especially since mom didn't have to know. She wouldn't find this hilarious at all.
"Do you mind if I ask?" he said tentatively. "Why did you break up?"
"Hell if I know. I have no earthly idea."
"Sorry, I didn't mean to…"
"I just don't have a clue what's going on. One day he asks me on a date, and the next day I get a message that says we're over."
I took my phone, found the message, and held the phone out for him to read it. I saw from his eyes that he reread it a few times. Finally, he handed the phone back. He opened his arms a bit, too little to hug and almost too much not to hug, and when he didn't know where to put his hands, he patted me on the shoulder before pushing them deep inside his pockets.
"He broke up with you over text?" he asked. "You two were quite… cute together."
There was a moment of silence, long enough for him to blush.
"I don't mean I think you're cute or something," he blurted out. "Oh, sorry, man. I mean, there's nothing wrong if I thought that way, but…"
I couldn't hold my poker face any longer. The subtle curve on the edge of my mouth must have given me away, or it was my eyes, which twinkled too enthusiastically, like they had forgotten Javier. Whatever it way, Chris crossed his arms and showed his most displeased look.
"I hate you," he said.
"I love you too," he said. I poked him on his chest. "But I need to go now."
"I'll talk to Javier. I'll make him explain."
"Please don't."
He was already walking to the back door, and I wasn't sure he had heard me asking him not to intervene. And even if he had, there was no guarantee he would keep his mouth shut. A small part of me wished he wouldn't. On the other hand, why should I care about Javier anymore?
I'm so over you, dickhead!
Never had I felt so empowered. To keep up my good spirits, I repeated it in my head while walking toward detention.
Dickhead, dickhead, dickhead!
"Kenneth, where have you been?" Principal Haynes' chilly voice echoed from the walls.
"Um, I came as soon as I could."
He looked at me over his reading glasses and gestured for me to take a seat. I glanced at the other students, and probably all of them shared the same feeling, there was someone in the room who didn't belong. Even if I had wanted to, which I didn't, I wasn't one of the bad guys. One glance from the boy at the back row made it very clear; this was their territory and I was at the bottom of the food chain. They were wolves, I was the sheep, and only the principal kept me alive.
I took my math book and began doing my homework when I noticed the principal approaching me. I closed the book quickly, assuming we were supposed to just sit there silently. This was so unfair. Nobody had told me the rules.
"Here's the form," he said.
"What's that?"
I studied the paper and realized it just before he said it aloud.
"Your parents need to sign it to acknowledge that you've been in detention."
"Whatever."
It was everything but okay. How could I face my mom and tell her what I'd done? It would trigger such a shit storm that any hurricane season would be a piece of cake. There was zero chance she would sign it without reading it first.
One hour of detention and grounded for life. That was the minimum punishment, if I was lucky. Unfortunately, I didn't feel especially luck lately.
Authors deserve your feedback. It's the only payment they get. If you go to the top of the page you will find the author's name. Click that and you can email the author easily.* Please take a few moments, if you liked the story, to say so.
[For those who use webmail, or whose regular email client opens when they want to use webmail instead: Please right click the author's name. A menu will open in which you can copy the email address (it goes directly to your clipboard without having the courtesy of mentioning that to you) to paste into your webmail system (Hotmail, Gmail, Yahoo etc). Each browser is subtly different, each Webmail system is different, or we'd give fuller instructions here. We trust you to know how to use your own system. Note: If the email address pastes or arrives with %40 in the middle, replace that weird set of characters with an @ sign.]
* Some browsers may require a right click instead
