Regretting Nothing

8. Regretting Nothing

I sat on the toilet in my bathroom, still watching the blood drip from my nose. Not even trying to stop the never ending flow of crimson that began to form a pattern on the pearl bathroom tile. The blood began to swirl and circle into strange forms in the crevices between each tile. It looked like it was dancing.
My nose ached and I felt my bones crackle every time I moved it. I tried to twist and turn it back into its usual place but every time I tried I let out a pathetic moan of pain.
Bobby stood outside the door, trying to reach my mom or dad at work, asking how I was every few minutes. I just kept answering with a groan.
I knew Dad was probably at some big meeting trying to kiss ass and get his former job back. Mom was a nurse so Bobby tried harder to reach her than my father. But Mom just started her night shift at the free clinic so I doubted that she was going to answer a call from her bothersome son. She was probably too busy seeing fifteen patients at the same time.
As my blood danced, I wondered how it came to this. I wondered how I let my guard down at the pizza place and didn’t fight back, like any normal person would’ve. I wondered why Bobby just offered to pay for the pizzas and not even give Freddie a glare. And for a small moment, I wondered if I really wasn’t Bobby’s best friend.
“Sam, your mom answered! She said she’s on her way home!”
I nodded, not realizing that Bobby couldn’t see through walls.
“Sam? Are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” I sighed. We sat in silence for a few minutes until I heard some shuffling behind the door and finally a sound.
“Sam…”
“I said I’m fine.”
He paused and I heard his back sliding down the door.
“I’m sorry.”
I started to get sick of the dancing blood. It wasn’t so entertaining anymore. I drew some toilet paper from the roll next to the sink and simply tossed it all on top of the scarlet mess. I moved the paper from side to side with my foot until I realized I was making an even bigger mess. It was a pink cloud of regret.
“Sam? I said I’m sorry.” Bobby said ominously.
“I heard you.”
I heard Bobby let out a sigh. At first, I wasn’t sure if it was that of anguish or relief. But I came to realize that it was probably the latter. And then he completely changed the subject.
“Where’s May?”
“At a sleepover party.”
“Ah.” Another minute of silence. Then:
“I get that you’re mad.” For a moment, I stopped breathing and just stared at the door aimlessly.
“Oh?” I said with theatrical sarcasm, “Really?”
“I’m sorry I got you into this whole mess. I know you and Freddie don’t get along well because of Angie. But I was thinking that, you know, just because Angie’s a whore doesn’t mean you and Freddie have to hate each other. I guess I just wanted you guys to get over it. But that’s never going to happen…” He paused for a while and then laughed halfheartedly. “…As proven by the blood coming out of your face.”
I felt my brain get attacked by adrenaline again. Bobby’s frankness made me too angry to reply. My fists were shaking. It was like I was a boxer on steroids, anxiously waiting to destroy someone’s pretty face. That’s just what I wanted to do. I wanted to open the door and punch him in the face, incredibly dramatic, like in the movies. I’d open the door and just let him have it. Then I’d pick up all those bloody tissues and just throw them at him while screaming obscenities….
Then I’d stop. I’d look at his remorseful expression, and then I’d forgive him.
I stared at my pink cloud of regret and watched as the blood still rained from my nose onto the cotton heap. I couldn’t do it. How could I? It was Bobby.
“It’s ok.” I said, still focused on the cloud. “I deserved it. You were just trying to help, right?” I said, trying not to sound sarcastic.
“I try,” he sighed.
My thoughts began to get lost in overwhelming anguish and confusion. Ultimately, they all went back to animal behavior. I understood that Bobby was the untouchable alpha male, the followers were behind him, and Angie and Dan were the outcasts. And I was nothing.
But then I wondered why, with all the underlying circumstances—Bobby being my best friend, Angie my ex, Freddie my mortal enemy—I was assigned to sit on the sidelines? I knew I was nothing…but why was I nothing? Why was I nothing and Freddie—brother to Mary Magdalene, enemy to me—why was he still something?
I shook my head, blood dribbling on my upper lip. I knew why. It was because everyone was intimidated by Freddie. Bobby couldn’t deny someone that everyone heeded to, so Freddie was something. Naturally, no one but the brother of my ex really thought anything of me. So, I was nothing but Bobby’s quaint childhood friend. After all, Bobby was all about the people, right?
My eyes grew wide as an eerie thought struck me. I desperately hoped that no one would follow Freddie in his hate towards me, like they did with “San Fran Dan”. It was hard enough watching them torture Daniel, let alone my self.
I stared at the door, listening to Bobby’s nervous humming. And it was then that I realized why Bobby tried to get Freddie and me to play nice. He didn’t want me to be more than nothing because of Freddie. He didn’t want me to be an outcast…
“I get it. It’s hard trying to help everyone at once.” I said sincerely.
Bobby chuckled. “Everyone except Angie and Dan Thomas.”

After a few minutes, I heard the front door of the house fly open and a pair of anxious feet stomp up the stairs.
I knew at once, just from the piercing concern in her shrill voice that it was my mother. I heard Bobby rise and tell her that I’d been in there for about forty five minutes. She started to knock repeatedly on the bathroom door, like I was dying or something.
“Sammy, baby? Sam, honey, open up.”
I sighed. And it was definitely a sigh of anguish, not relief.
I stood up, stepped over my cloud, and turned the brass knob to the door of a once spotless bathroom.
Mom’s face was priceless. I didn’t know if it was my crooked, blood ridden face, or the disastrous scene in the bathroom, but something made her face turn red. Almost as red as my face. Almost.
“Sam! How did this happen?!”

False Freedom

7. False Freedom

TAP
I lifted my head after hearing it for the second time. I looked to my side only to see Bobby sleeping through detention, just as I had. Our proctor, my cranky Chem teacher, sat at the desk at the front of the room reading the newspaper. I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized that detention was almost over.
Just as I was going to wake Bobby, there was another tap. That one woke Bobby.
“What the hell...Sam what are you doing?”
“Nothing, that wasn’t me.” Bobby’s dazed expression evaporated once he faced the window.
“Holy shit! It’s Freddie!”
Mr. Harris glared at Bobby and shushed him. Bobby rolled his eyes and sat up, taking a quick glance back at Freddie. I lay my head back on the table, wanting to dissolve into it. Ten minutes. I just had to wait ten more minutes.
“Ten minutes until Freddie sets us free,” sighed Bobby.
Suddenly, I felt the way a man would before being hanged; except I couldn’t squeeze out any last words because I was pathetic.
After exactly ten minutes Mr. Harris sighed and stood up.
“Go home,” he said.
Mr. Harris didn’t seem like he wanted to go home, as he looked at his newspaper mournfully. And then I wondered if he volunteered to be the proctor that afternoon, because Mrs. Becker usually proctors everything. It was weird. Mrs. Becker was obligated to proctor. She was only an old, single, ethics teacher and had no other redeemable qualities. What was so weird was that Mr. Harris had a life. Mr. Harris was married with children. He was a Chem teacher, a Health teacher, and a Homeroom teacher. He had other things to do and places to be. So why the hell was he proctoring a detention on a Friday afternoon? A detention with Bobby and me, no less.
I realized then that this disgruntled man was the only thing that could keep me in that room, away from Freddie. I glanced at him helplessly. He stared back, puzzled.
“Well? Go on, get out.”
I sighed, just as he had. Bobby rolled his eyes again.
“Ungrateful kids,” grunted Mr. Harris. Then he left.
I almost ran after him. Almost.
Instead, Bobby ran to the window. Sure enough, Freddie Teresio was standing outside with three of his goons.
“You still up for pizza, Geiger?”
Bobby laughed and opened the window, letting in the cool fall air. “Come on Sam, let’s get out of here.”
I felt my throat go soar. I was afraid. “Bobby—”
He laughed and pointed at the clock that so cruelly determined my fate.
“Sammy, detention is over. Let’s go!”
Bobby grabbed my arm and dragged me over to the window. Before I knew it, he had straddled the window sill and leaped to his freedom.
“Come on Sam, we don’t have all day.”
I felt my legs turn to jell-o as I reluctantly reached for the window.
To me, detention actually sounded more appealing than hanging out with the group of asses the stood in front of me. But it didn’t matter what I thought. After all, I was only Sam Peterson.

As we walked towards the entrance of the school, I noticed Freddie jingling car keys between his fingers. My mind was still worrying over my potential death by Freddie, so I didn’t really think about what the jingling entailed until we reached a green Camry in the school parking lot.
Everyone waited behind while I kept walking. I didn’t realize what was going on until Bobby called my name.
“Sam! Where are you going?”
I was squeezed into a small car with five other guys who were blasting heavy metal music that really wasn’t all too appealing. Not to mention, they were screaming the words in my ears.
I wished that I had a video camera. I wished that one of these idiots would later on become a public figure. I smiled with the vivid image playing in my mind: the image of horror on President Freddie Teresio’s face when he discovered this video appearing all over the internet of the future. The whole world would know that he was an idiot. I was happy with my day dream until I was elbowed in the chest.
“Sorry man, didn’t mean to.”
Chris Geller, one of Bobby’s followers who joined us for lunch daily, was head banging to the noise that was playing on the radio. It’s called head banging. Why were his arms flailing around everywhere? He almost knocked the wind out of me.
“No problem,” I mumbled.
Chris Geller actually wasn’t such a bad guy. He wasn’t a bully. He was tolerable, and kind of a funny kid. Sure he was a huge prick with girls, but he was tight with his brethren. So I guess that meant he was somewhat trustworthy. If I wasn’t so awkward we probably could’ve hung out.
Next to Geller was Hank Ruth. I figured he had self-esteem problems because all he did was terrorize the freshmen as much as possible.
Matt Sanders sat in the front between Bobby and Freddie. He was sloppy and inconsistent when it came to his marauding. This didn’t surprise me though, since he was addicted to three known substances. I closed my eyes, wishing I had never left the institution.
We eventually ended up at some old pizza place with chipped paint and no heat. Teresio had walked us to the corner table with rusty chairs. I took the seat next to the window so that if I wanted to let my mind wander from stupid conversations, I could just count how many red cars drove past my window to keep me amused.
The followers really didn’t have much to talk about. It was just the typical stuff that teenage boys discussed. I could almost feel my IQ dropping.
“What about you, Geiger? Who was the best chick you’ve hooked up with?”
Bobby had the floor now. I counted off the twelfth car and turned to face him. I was curious to hear his answer. Teresio nudged him as he asked some waitress to get us a large cheese pizza.
Bobby didn’t answer the question right away. At first he just watched me, as if he was waiting for me to say something. Then he listed the girls he actually did hook up with. But after the pizza came and the fourteenth car sped by, I still had nothing to say and Bobby had no more time to stall.
“So, which one was the best?” Matt questioned, clearly irritated.
Bobby shifted uneasily and bit his lip ring, obviously not wanting to answer the question. This confused me. Why wouldn’t Bobby want to show off? Bobby loved to show off. I inched closer to the table and spoke for him as he began to stammer.
“It really depends on what you mean by ‘best’.” Bobby smiled in relief as the waitress came and slid the pan of pizza onto the table.
“The one that turns you on the most is usually my pick,” stated Hank, as if I was mentally insane.
“I disagree”. I had no idea where I was going with this, but it seemed to make them forget about Bobby for a while. They all froze and just stared at me degradingly, including Bobby. I must’ve said something wrong.
“I heard you were chatting it up with San Fran Dan. Did he give you any ideas, Peterson?” Freddie chuckled as he picked some cheese off of his slice of pizza.
Everyone laughed including Bobby, but only after looking at the ground for a while. I don’t know what came over me then. I just felt anger surge through my body. Freddie insulting Dan just felt like he was crossing some sort of line. I didn’t know why. It’s not like I was actually friends with “San Fran Dan”.
“You lied about him groping your ass, Teresio.”
It suddenly got very silent. Hank, Matt, and Chris looked anxiously at Freddie. Bobby looked at me, horrified. My eyes glared hard at Freddie’s. Freddie clenched hard at his pizza.
“You think I’m a fag, Sam?” he seethed between his teeth.
“Well, it doesn’t matter what I think, does it?”
I felt everyone’s eyes on me. The adrenaline that flooded my brain began to wear off and I suddenly wanted to run away. I stood up and was about to walk away when in one swift movement, Teresio had punched me square in the face. I fell back, hitting my back against the wall. Freddie stood over me as I pathetically held my bleeding nose. Bobby stood up and tried to pull him off me, but Freddie just pushed him to the side.
“Come on Freddie,” moaned Bobby. “He doesn’t mean it.”
Freddie ignored Bobby. Instead, he grabbed a fistful of my bloodstained shirt and brought my face up to his. He scowled and roared, “If I ever get a glimpse of your face again, it better be on a death certificate, or else I will kill you.” He then shoved me back to my pathetic position by the wall. “And stay away from my sister” he said, taking a few steps back.
The waitress just watched in shock from behind the counter with a hand up to her mouth. What else could she do? Come in between a rouge animal and his prey?
I held my free hand up in defeat. Freddie turned and signaled that it was time to leave. Matt, Hank, and Chris walked towards him but Bobby stood his ground.
“You coming, Geiger?” Freddie said as he opened the door.
Bobby shook his head. “I’ll help him up and pay for the pizzas. You guys go on without me.”
Freddie looked at me and then shrugged. “Suit yourself. See you at the dance.” And they left. Bobby gave his hand to me and lifted me up.
“You ok?”
I wiped the blood on my face, only making it smear, and ruffled my hair so that it wasn’t in my eyes.
“Does it look like I’m ok?” I muttered.
He sighed. “Come on, we’ll take a cab to your place.”

Drive

6. Drive

“You’re late. That’s the third time this week, Sam.” Mr. Harris, my Chem teacher, so kindly pointed out.
“Yes, I know, I just…”
“No but’s, that’s a detention.”
Funny thing is, I never said ‘but’. However, I didn’t correct him. After all, I was already in deep shit. I didn’t really want to go deeper.
I looked over the room in search for a seat. The only one left was up front next to Angie Teresio.
I sat and she stared. And I wanted to die.
Mr. Harris spent forever lecturing on about atoms and electrons and gases and blah blah blah blah. I was about to eat my own arm just to get out of there when…
“So, I need you to pick a partner for the lab and sit at a table together.”
Before my mind could register what was going on, everyone stood up and ran towards their friends. After a mere thirty seconds, Angie and I were the last ones left. It was pathetic. For the first time, I actually wished that Bobby didn’t ignore her because then everyone else wouldn’t ignore her and her science partner capabilities. But life is not that convenient. So Angie was my partner.
We were supposed to read a couple of pages in the text book together then talk about how we were going to set up our lab. My supposed partner and I read the pages on our own. After that we just sat silently facing the board that was scattered with images of atoms and electrons and God I hated Chemistry.
“Have you two discussed your lab?”
I lifted my head only to see Mr. Harris looking at the two of us with a disappointed expression carved into his wrinkled face. Angie began to highlight random sentences out of the book.
“We were just thinking, Mr. Harris.”
“I expect you two to do your best.” The old man then glared at me. “You better get to work.”
I wondered if Mr. Harris had a bitchy wife at home and felt unmanly. I wondered if he took all his anger out on his students so he could feel dominant. I wondered why I had to have a partner.
“I have straight A’s in this class so you better get your lazy ass to work. I’m not getting a bad grade because of you.”
I couldn’t fathom why she thought I cared about her grades—her attempt at perfection. Like it mattered anyway. It was over. She was over. Why couldn’t she get that through her head? She wasn’t the Virgin Mary anymore. She was tainted.
After noticing that I wasn’t going to move from my slouched position, she sighed and pushed the thick text book away from her. She turned to face me directly and sat Indian style in her chair.
“You and Bobby have made my life a living hell since the beginning of the year.”
I couldn’t believe what she was saying. She was bringing it up in the middle of Chem class? Was she out of her mind?!
“Not here, Angie.” She didn’t take her eyes off of me.
“I already told you I was sorry. Why can’t you just put it behind you? You know, forgive and forget?” I was enraged. I felt my head go hot and my eyes burn into hers.
“I did nothing to you and I want nothing to do with you.”
Her legs loosened and dangled. Her arms crossed over her chest and she faced the board again.
“So, the scene you made in English the other day, that was nothing to you?” she whispered, her voice breaking on the last word.
“It’s nothing…but Hamlet.” I mumbled.
She was about to say something when the bell called for the last period of the day. I guess the bell didn’t like her either. I got out of my chair, grabbed my back pack, and got the hell out of there. I left Angela sitting in her chair, dumbfounded.
Mr. Harris didn’t even have the chance to announce the night’s homework before everyone followed me out. Too bad. So sad.

"Shhhh! Mr. Peterson and Mr. Geiger I am warning you for the last time. One more word and I'll send you two to the Principal's office."
Mrs. Becker's face turned red as she shook her knobby finger at us. Bobby cackled under his breath and I tried so hard not to snort.
Study hall was such a joke. Nobody ever worked in there. I couldn’t understand why they didn’t just release us from the institution earlier and save us from enduring such a tortuous waste of time. There were only two things to do in study hall:
1. Sleep.
2. Piss off the proctor.
Bobby thought the latter would be more fun. He decided to count how many warnings we could get before Mrs. Becker would crack. After seven warnings, she was finally reaching the breaking point and it was actually quite exciting.
Mrs. Becker went back to grading tests while Bobby sniggered. He started to scribble something onto some notebook paper. He then crumpled it up and chucked it at the side of my head. I covered my mouth to keep myself from laughing and picked up the paper from off the dust ridden floor.
On the count of three, let’s turn our seats around and just scream.
Before I could even answer, let alone object to this idea, Bobby had already counted to three. He rose and turned his desk so that his back was facing Mrs. Becker. I eventually did the same. After all, I wasn’t really going to deny Bobby.
The followers just stared and giggled, waiting to see what we were going to do. I looked to Bobby in the same way. He smiled and then…
“JESUS CHRIST SAM, I AM SO TIRED, AREN’T YOU?!” he yelled.
Bobby waited for an answer but all I did was stare at him until he nudged me.
“I AM SO BORED, BOBBY! THERE’S GOT TO BE SOMETHING TO DO BESIDES WAIT FOR THIS TO END!”
“I DUNNO, BUT THIS BITCH IS GETTING ON MY NERVES!” Bobby pointed to Mrs. Becker and grinned.
Mrs. Becker rose from her seat.
“THAT IS IT! YOU TWO ARE OUT OF HERE!” Bobby’s head turned. He had a smile on that almost took up his whole face.
“OH, MRS. BECKER! GLAD YOU COULD JOIN US!”

Bobby laughed all the way to the principal’s office. I was so silent I could her my pulse thrumming behind my ear. The principal’s office wasn’t such a hoot to me as it was to Bobby. We reached the cold grey room and sat in the cold grey chairs until the cold hearted old man we called Principal Wilkinson arrived.
“Well if it isn’t Bobby Geiger and friend.” And friend? God, even the principal thought I was a satellite.
“He has a name, you know.” Bobby declared. The principal frowned at Bobby, but I grinned.
Principal Wilkinson sat at his big black leather chair and folded his big arms over his big grey desk.
“Robert Geiger. I have had you in here so many times I’ve lost count.”
“I prefer Bobby, thanks. However, Mr. Wilkinson, I would like to infer that there is a reason or…fault, I should say, as to why I’m in here all the time. And maybe the fault isn’t all mine.”
Mr. Wilkinson’s brows rose to the top of his dome of a head. Bobby was praised by the followers, and he was there for them. He didn’t give two shits about the administration.
“Bobby, your disdain of authority is what brings you in here. And I believe you should be disciplined for not obeying guidelines set by these authorities. Guidelines which protect and help sustain respect for other people.” Principal Wilkinson’s disdain seemed to outshine Bobby’s as he scorned him. His right eye began to twitch ever so slightly. His hands seemed as though they were yearning to wrap around Bobby’s throat. And his mouth, which was set in a permanent frown, dove deeper into his pale, wrinkled skin. If anything should make someone want to abide by guidelines, it certainly wasn’t Principal Wilkinson and his modes of interrogation.
When it came to the politics of Westwood High, Bobby was king. Bobby always felt as though he had to protect us from anything, including the administration.
I remember Bobby explaining his motives to me over the summer.
“They just don’t care about us.” he said, violently swinging his Xbox controller left and right. We were racing of course. And he was winning…of course. “They’re old and controlling. They’ve forgotten what it’s like to be what we are.”
“What? Adolescent?” I muttered as my pixilated car ran over a construction sign.
Bobby laughed. “No. Vulnerable and longing to be free. But what do they do? They take advantage of that.”
And then Bobby rose to his feet and cheered as his car sped across the finish line.
I looked at Bobby recalling this memory. His jaw was clenched and he was sitting at the edge of the chair; but he answered Principal Wilkinson calmly.
“How does that phrase go? Treat people the way you want to be treated?” Bobby said, mockingly.
It was clear that Principal Wilkinson had had enough as he firmly pulled out detention slips from his grey desk. I felt a shiver run down my spine.
“Well congratulations, Bobby. You have won three detentions.” Bobby rose from his seat.
“What?! Mr. W.—”
“Care to make it four?” he said sternly.
Bobby opened his mouth but said nothing. He huffed his hair from his face and sat back down.
“And you Mr. Peterson. You’ll make up your detention on Monday since you already have one today.” he mumbled, flipping through the detention schedule that sat in front of him.
Bobby squeezed the arm rests of the chair. I knew it wasn’t fair that we got separate punishments, although I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of relief.