Charlie…4

Chapter 4

I look at them there’s about fifteen of them and about nine of them are guys. I don’t really look at them. There’s two that look like the want to hurt me. No, it’s the six girls I’m watching. They’re the ones with the pissed beyond pissed look to their faces. It’s the same thing really in most places. Most of these guys are the boyfriends here because they have to; they really don’t want much to do with beating on “a girl”.

One of the girls says something to one of the thug guys and he get’s this look like someone just turned the lights on in his empty fucking head. “Hey Cunt! where’d you think You’re going.”

“Nowhere really.” I just walk a few feet and take a seat on top of one of the picnic tables that they’ve got close to the student parking. I don’t run, but as pissed as I am at the bullshit I don’t show it and I sit. If they want me then they’re going to really jump me. Me being non-chalant is fucking with their heads. But me just treating them like they’re not something to get worried about is throwing off their entire game plan.

I take out one of the books for class and start to look it over. I take out my sunglasses and put them on so they can’t see me watching them.

I can see them mulling it over a bit then the thug stomps over with two of his buddies and he stops right in front of me. “Hey!” I respond by setting my book aside and lighting a smoke. “I said Hey!”

“Good for you, so?”

“So what?”

“So what do you three want? I’m not gay so forget it I don’t date guys.”

“Huh? Wha… oh you are some kind of sick freak.”

He goes to shove me. I let him and roll backwards over the table with it. The other two move and try a run around to get me but I do what they don’t expect I come right over the table at the guy who shoved me and tackle him to the ground. He didn’t expect it either and goes down with me on top of him. I grab him by the hair in on hand and take my smoke in the other and put it right in front of his eye.

“Don’t make me move, it’ll bubble and pop like a boiled grape asshole.”

His two friends try to run up to grab me. “I can put this in there by the time you even try assholes.”

The guy I’m on is yelling. “Don’t, don’t oh Jesus fuck don’t…” he’s crying. Actually by the smell he’s not just crying but he’s pissing himself.

I look around. “You are a bunch of pathetic losers. Don’t you think that I’ve been through all this shit before? No of course not because you’re all too busy listening to the hate of a bunch of people who don’t like me because I’m fucking different. You think I like being different? No! And I just want to get through this shit that I have to live with, but oh fuck no I have to put up with this bullshit! Yeah, you’re all thinking I’m nuts well I wonder why.”

One of the guys that didn’t come over says. “Alright! Alright fuck, we’ll leave you the fuck alone but just let Trevor up.” His girlfriend looks pissed at him but they all look frightened of me and what I might actually do.

“Tell frick and frack to clear off first.”

“Johnny, Tony move back away from…him…” They do moving back to the cars and glare at me. “Okay….Charlie…are you satisfied?”

“Yeah, Trevor…never again right? You fuck with me again and I won’t be the only one who’s forced to sit to take a piss got it?”

“Uh-huh! Y..Y..Yeah, I got it Charlie, anything you say Charlie.”

I stick my smoke back in my mouth. “Anything I say huh? Okay so point out the scunt that started this little welcome wagon for me. I know it was one of the girls Trevor, It’s always them.”

He sits up and is pointing at this blonde chick with a nice set of breasts and dressed in expensive or at least trendy looking stuff. Her expression is one of fear and anger and betrayal and more fear as there’s an edging away from her of her so called friends.

“Good to know Trevor.” I stare right at her. I offer him a hand up. He stares at it bore taking it and he’s looking me in the eyes. I hard stare him and lean down and grab his wrist and lean back and one arm yank him to his feet. I’m pretty strong, but he’s going with it. I’m not that strong but strong enough for them to notice that. “No hard feelings, It just came down to you and me Trevor and I’m fucking nuts.”

“Yeah I noticed.” He moves off ditching everyone because well that’s what you do with wet pants.

I look at them and they’re leaving and I still stare at her again and lower my sunglasses. She blanches. She never really thought this out, they never do. No it was her idea to get the freak and I’ve likely offended her six ways till Sunday without even…well I haven’t met her or even talked to her but she’s looks like one of those types. Preppy social climber with just enough bible studies tossed in to make her think she’s better than everyone else. I smile at her.

They’re all leaving and she’s hiding behind what must be her boyfriend and he honestly looks like he’s got no idea what to do. Why? Because none of them actually see me as a guy. They have no clue how to deal with someone like me.

I watch them all go. Smoke my cigarette. Put my book away.

Would I have done it?

Probably not. I’m angry but I’m not a psycho. If it had gone badly then I’d have put it out between his eyes and maybe the improvised bindi would show Trevor some much needed divine insight but I’m kinda glad things turned out the way that they did. Nobody seriously hurt…i.e. Me, and they think I’m nuts. I’m not but having them think so is a pretty good defense.

I drop my board and head home keeping a wary eye out for more shitheads or drive by acts of moronitude. I’m lucky and there’s none just a cop giving me the skater-Punk fish eye look like my skateboard automatically qualifies me for hooligan.

I pull into the driveway and head inside. I crinkle my nose at the smells of paint and varnish drying. We’re settling in but mom, who’s actually my step-mother wanted to fix a bunch of stuff in the house before we really got unpacked. I go up to my room and get changed into something a bit less heavy and dump the books off on my bed and slip downstairs and help Dad with the back deck.

It’s soothing as soon as my hands get onto the tools as dad passes me a pry bar and we start ripping up the deck. It’s pretty rotten in places and it’s a great way for me to get dirty and work up a sweat. “So how was school?” he asks.

“About the way I expected it to go.”

“Nice scrape on your knee, how’d that happen?”

“Oh.” I look at it, adrenaline. I never noticed doing it. “Scraped it going over a picnic table.”

“Fight or skateboard?”

“Fight.”

“Uh-huh, so are we getting a phone call from the school?”

“Not that I can tell. There wasn’t any faculty around when the welcome wagon showed up.” Dad gets me a root beer and himself one. He makes his own homemade stuff and honestly I’m spoiled because it’s better that anything you can get in the stores.

“Huh, funny how that happened.” It wasn’t a question. Dad’s a semi-professional smart ass. Now you know where I get my attitude from. It’s also why I’m here and not my brother. The best thing about my coming clean about who I need to be is the fact that Dad freely acknowledges the fact that out of all us kids I’m the one most like him.

We tear up the deck and we dig out the area and then end up building this retaining wall out of 4X4 stud posts and the good lumber from the deck and then we fill up the entire thing with gravel then sand that dad had dropped off while I was in school. It’s all done by wheel barrow and we take turns so we both don’t get too tired. It takes us until about seven at night and by the time we’re done we’ve got a deck that’s solid. The top six inches are home mixed cement and we’ve placed big flat chunks of beach stones on it to make up the walking surface.

Tomorrow it’ll be dried and then we’ll put up the railing and stuff fastening it to the posts and the retaining wall and then cover the wood up with cement and stacked stone. The thing should last a few years.

We talked as we worked and I know and he knows that he shouldn’t encourage me but he’s still laughing anyway as I go over the day and this afternoon.

We head into the house and Mom has supper ready fish tacos, which go over pretty good in our house except of course for Libby who had to just have her little salad and her sashimi plate, because she’s not going to eat all that fried stuff.

She’s almost fourteen and she’s wigging out about getting fat. She gives me dirty looks all through supper but doesn’t say anything or at least not to me. Like I said she thinks that I’m doing this all on purpose and the purpose is to according to her to ruin my life.

I slip upstairs stuffed to the gills…pun intended. And I start going through my stuff putting more of it away and then getting the tools to set up my free weights and my bowflex, speed bag and heavy bag. I hit the books then and do up my school work before hitting the work out gear listening to Metallica’s “Saint Anger, Fuel, and Battery.” Then it’s “I stand Alone, Cryin’ like a Bitch.” By Godsmack I just get lost into the metal as I work myself into a sweat on the weights then the heavy bag. I’m panting and I kill the lights in my room as I pant, breathe and cool down by just letting myself dance to their song “Serenity.”

I hit the shower after that and as hard as I try I can’t wash the girl off me and the water still runs off me wrong and as tired as I am it still hurts. I pull on my track pants and my not real “me” and two heavy t-shirts and try to sleep. It still takes me twenty minutes…

I really hate my dreams.