Hate

By Martin Clement


Unless otherwise noted, this story is Copyright 2006 by Martin Clement for Clement & Boule Associes. All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced, published, distributed, displayed, performed, copied or stored for public or private use in any information retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any mechanical, photographic or electronic process, including electronically or digitally on the Internet or World Wide Web, or over any network, or local area network, without written permission of the author.

No part of this story may be modified or changed or exploited in any way used for derivative works, or offered for sale, or used to construct any kind of database or mirrored at any other location without the express written permission of the author.

Thank you for respecting the intellectual property rights protected by the copyright laws of Canada, the United States and International Copyright Treaty.


Chapter 4

Syrupy Moments

 

As I entered the school this morning, walking close to the walls as always, I didn't think twice about all the stares I was receiving from the popular crowd nor the hushed laughter the jocks and the cheerleaders weren't even trying so hard to keep to themselves. It happened all the time... But as I tried my best to stay at bay, walking around them, keeping enough distance from them not to draw their attention to me more than necessary, that's when Matthew Harris showed up, coming from the locker row where mine was located. I wondered why he was there since his locker was at the opposite end of the school. But I didn't think of anything since as the faggy locker came into view, it seemed that it was the same way it used to be. It was still pink. It was still written the word faget on it. But no other word or anything had been added to it.

Matthew had his usual smirk on his face. As always, I was looking at the floor when passing by him, but it was almost as if I could feel it. It was as usual. Common. So I just made my way behind him and his friends in the row and to my locker, praying nobody would follow me. As I started with the combination, I could feel their eyes on me. So I took a quick glance at them, and there they were, still at the same spot at the end of the row. When they saw me looking their way, they quickly averted their gazes and resumed talking together. Not to draw their attention on me again, I unlocked the door. That's when I realized what they were waiting for. Inside of my locker, there was a mess. A total mess. Everything inside of it was completely coated with syrup. Everything. Not only my notebooks! But everything including all the books that belonged to the school. Everything was dripping. And it was now making a nice pool at my feet. I lifted a shaky hand to my mouth and observed the disaster with wide eyes as they all started to laugh hysterically. I must have stared inside of my locker for at least five minutes, not wanting to face the world ever again. I hated this school, this city... And most of all, I hated all of them. Even more now that everything I had in my locker was ruined.

I suddenly felt drained of all the energy I still had in me. I knew I was about to fall down, but I couldn't let them see me. If I collapsed on the floor, they would have won. If I started crying, they would have won. I could feel my face draining from the little colours I still had. My whole body was shaking as if I were having Parkinson. I didn't want to let them know they really got me this time. But they knew anyway.

I was not thinking right. I couldn't. They got me badly. So I just did what my instinct told me to. I turned slowly and walked to the staircase, not even caring to close the locker, not even caring about their laughter. I just walked to the second floor, then the third. As I made my way through the hall, I was walking like a zombie. My eyes were empty. Cold. Lifeless. When the people waiting to enter their classrooms saw me walking through the crowd, everybody stopped talking and cleared the way. So I just walked down the hall.

"Lucas?" I heard from behind me. "Lucas, are you all right?"

I couldn't respond. My throat wouldn't work. My mouth was sealed. But when I felt a hand on my shoulder, I flinched and let myself fall on my knees.

"Lucas!" Michael exclaimed, reaching to prevent for me to fall face first on the floor. "Oh my god! Lucas! Look at me!"

I couldn't. I was too weak to even lift my eyes to reach his. So that's what a breakdown felt like. My eyes felt secure on the tiled floor. My body felt numb and secure in Mike's arms. I knew I didn't want him to hold me. I knew I was not ready. But I needed someone to soothe me for so long, I didn't care who it was. I didn't care not to feel anything. I didn't want to feel anything for the rest of my life. I hoped that was what it felt like to die. If so, I wanted to die right then and there, soothed by anybody's arms around me, keeping me safe while I breathed out for the last time.

Then the first bell of the day rang.

"I have to get to my class." I whispered coldly. I didn't move, though.

"No, Lucas." Mike whispered back. "Come on. I will take you to the nursery."

"They won." I murmured.

"What?"

"They won. They all won. Shit! I'm so pathetic..." I said, shaking my head.

"What happened?" Mike asked, running his hand in circles on my back.

"They..." I started. Then I felt them... the tears... I wouldn't cry. Not ever. So I tightened my jaw and closed my eyes.

"Hey, Mike!"

I knew this voice too well. It was Matthew's. I shook my shoulders, trying to free myself, but Mike wouldn't let me.

"Mike?" Matthew said again. "What the hell are you doing?"

"What happened?" Mike asked irritably.

"What?"

"What happened, Matthew?" Mike asked again, his voice low while helping me back to my feet.

"What are you talking about? And why in hell are you on the faggot's side, anyway?" Matthew demanded, annoyed.

"I asked you a simple question, Matthew! Isn't it simple? I said: what happened?"

"Why are you asking me that question, Mike? I didn't do anything to the poof!"

"I know you are lying."

"Why do you care, anyway? Are you fucking turning into a fag too?"

"See, Matthew, that's the problem with you."

"What? I'm not a fag!"

"That's not what I mean."

"Then tell me!"

"Always changing the subject. I asked you a question and you just try to avoid answering it."

"I just made a little joke..."

"A little joke? Seems as Lucas enjoyed it very much, don't you think?"

"Not my fault if he's so sensitive..."

"What did you do?" Mike asked, his eyes narrowing and taking a step in Matthew's direction.

"I told you it was nothing! Hell, it seems as you really care, don't you? You care for that little nothing of a man, now? Since when?"

"None of your business."

"So that's it? You're a fag, now?"

"Matthew, you are so full of yourself! Why would you care?"

"What? Why would I care? Shit! I knew it! This little shit converted you, isn't it?"

"And I'm sure you think that what you are saying makes any sense..."

"You know what, Mike, fuck you! Anyway, what happened to Mike who hated this little faggot? You didn't seem to care before."

"Oh yes, I cared! I was just as full of shit as you are! What do you hate about Lucas? Are you scared of him?"

"Me? Scared of him?" Matthew laughed. "Yeah! As if he could do anything to me, the little bugger!"

"So, what do you hate about him? You just hate him because he is different?"

"He's fucking sick, damn it! He's a fucking pervert!"

"Pervert? When has he done anything to you? Has he ever touched you?"

"No! Thank God no!" he answered quickly. "I would have killed him!"

"Has he ever looked at you a way that would make you think he wanted to do anything to you?"

"Huh..."

"You can't answer that simple question because it never happened. He never looked at you any differently than anybody else."

"Well... maybe in the locker room, I guess...?" he answered, unsure.

"Maybe? You are not even sure about it?"

"Well..."

"You know why you are not sure about it?" Mike didn't stop to hear him. "It is because it is not true! You are just a big fat liar!"

"Look who's talking! You lied to me yesterday!"

"Yes! I lied to you, Matthew! Yes, I want to make up for all the things I did to Lucas, for all the horrible things I told him! You know why? Because they were just wrong! Now tell me, Matthew... tell me when Lucas looked at you in the locker room since he never ever showered there? Since I acted as a pussy by shoving our friendship in the garbage, he never changed in the locker room anymore. You know why? It was out of respect for the guys! And for not being picked on by you or me! Yes, I acted as a freaking chicken but jeez, we are almost seventeen!"

The second bell, announcing the beginning of the classes, rang.

"It's not over, Walsh!" Matthew announced before storming off to his classroom.

To say I was stunned would have been the worst of all the understatement I had ever heard. For the first time in five years, Mike had stood up for me. I was still hurt. I hurt badly. But hearing Mike's words made me want to trust him again. That morning, I didn't feel as alone as I used to.

"Come on, Lucas. Lets go to the nursery." he murmured to me.

"My..." Not bad for a first word spoken since the event.

"What is it, Lucas?" he whispered.

"My locker..." I finally could say.

"What about it?" I just shook my head. "Lucas, what happened to your locker?" I still couldn't say the words. "Come on... let's see it."

 

***

 

"We have to see Mr Howell immediately!"

When Mike saw what an awful mess my locker was, he went completely nut. After cursing all the saints in heaven, he just took me by the hand and almost dragged me to the principal's office.

"Shouldn't you two be in class right about now?" the secretary asked, looking over her glasses.

"We would if some stupid jerk hadn't thought it was a funny joke to pour syrup through the vents of Lucas' locker!"

"Language, sir!" she said, looking irritated.

"Language?" Mike said while looking at her as if she were growing an arm in her face. "Did you hear what I just said or are you just avoiding the topic?"

"I won't take anybody using this language."

"What's up with you?" Mike asked. "I said we have to see Mr Howell now! It's an emergency!"

"And I told you that Mr Howell is not available at the moment."

"Not available? I saw him going in his office five minutes ago... alone. Now, he's not available? Not even for an emergency? Someone just vandalized my friend's locker..." The secretary cut him off.

"If the books that are the school's property have been damaged, they will have to be replaced."

"You're not listening to me, Mrs..."

"I'm not here to listen to you."

"What are you here for? I want to know your name!"

"Why?"

"So we can complain..."

"And why would you do that?"

"Because you don't follow the procedure!" I said coldly.

She looked at me as if she wanted to rip my head off then took the receiver of her phone. Two minutes later, Mr Howell opened his office's door and gave us an unhappy look.

"What is it?" he asked curtly.

"Mr Howell, we came here to report an act of vandalism that has been committed to my friend's locker."

"What happened, this time?" the principal announced, sounding annoyed.

"Some guy poured syrup through the vents and ruined everything that was inside of it."

Mr Howell looked at me with darts in his eyes, then grabbed me by the arm, squeezing it until it hurt.

"What did you do again?"

"I..." I tried to speak, but my throat was too dry.

"Answer me!" he yelled, pushing me in his office. "You are suspended for one week! Wait there! I'm calling your parents so they know what you did."

"He didn't do anything!" Mike intervened. "It is Matthew Harris who did it!"

"Walsh, get back to your classroom! Now!"

"But why? Lucas didn't do anything!"

"I said: go back to your class!"

"I won't!"

"What? You would disobey me?" Mr Howell asked, menacingly.

"If standing for justice means disobeying you, it is my duty to do so."

"If you don't leave right away and get to your class, Mr Walsh, you will oblige me to suspend you from the football team!"

"Then do it!"

"I will, if you don't do as I say. It is a promise!"

"I said do it! I don't care! I said I would stand for Lucas and I will! I'll stay right here!"

 

***

 

Mike called his father himself, using a very annoyed secretary's phone. Mr Howell called mine. Almost an hour had passed by when my parents, followed by Mike's, entered the secretary's office. As promised, Mike stayed with me, so Mr Howell made us wait there instead of his office. As usual, my father didn't look at me. He just walked by the principal's office when the secretary, who I heard Mr Howell call Mary, lead him to the door. It was as if he never went there... Jeez, didn't he remember the pink paint incident?

The day it happened, I was called to Mr Howell's office and he accused me of doing it. He said I did it to show off my pervert lifestyle around school... Yeah right! As if I would have wanted everybody to pick on me everyday! I didn't even like pink. Actually, I've always hated the feminine meaning of it, since it was directed to me. Well that day, it was the first time I saw my father showing interest in something I'd supposedly done. Interest... almost. He had seemed to be very interested in hearing what Mr Howell had to tell him, though. But he never asked me what happened. He didn't want my version of the facts. That day had been as every other day. He had never even looked my way. My mother had been another story. She had been all over me for weeks after the event, telling me she loved me... looking at me as if I were a poor pet dog, asking me why I did paint my locker. She just thought I was crazy.

Today, my mother found a seat close to me while Mr Walsh squatted down in front of Mike. Mrs Walsh was looking directly at me with... it looked as compassion. While seeing my father get into Mr Howell's office, my mind thought how familiar it seemed to me. My father not looking at me... my mother trying to find my hand with her own... me dodging her grasp. Yeah... how familiar... Well I thought it was... until I heard yelling. And this voice raising, as foreign as it seemed to me, was my father's.


To be continued...


So it is the end of chapter four. I hope you liked it. What will happen? Will Lucas' life start being easier for him at home? What is Matthew's problem? What do you think will happen next on Hate? If you want to know, don't miss chapter five coming soon.

Thanks to everybody who sent me comments on the first three chapter of Hate. They are really appreciated, since they are the fuel I need to write this story. I hope you readers all appreciate the story so far and will stay tuned to Hate so you can read the next chapters.

You can send me any constructive comment, I'm pretty open and I'll try to answer all the messages. Don't give me flames cause you know, I don't give a shit about them. If you didn't like to read a gay story, well, what the hell were you doing here? Sorry for people who wanted a good wank because there won't be any explicit sex. Why? Because I don't feel like writing about it right now. And if you were offended by the fact my principal characters are gay, why don't you go back to your churches and trust in everything they say and leave me alone? For the others, welcome to my story and see you soon!


Martin Clement


clementbouleass@quebecemail.com