Chapter Text
Travis had been sitting at his desk near the front of the classroom, right in front of Mrs. Packerton’s desk. He was in a daze, staring at his test paper with frustration and anger, squinting his eyes at the numbers scattered across his paper. All of it looked like junk. There were eraser shreds across his paper along with horribly erased math problems. Travis struggled with dyscalculia, especially when it came to algebra. As if numbers weren’t enough, the letters didn’t make any sense to him either. Why were there letters in math anyway?
The bell rang minutes later, causing Travis’s head to jolt up.
Shit.
He’d only written three problems down and he was sure the last two were wrong. The first problem was always the easiest. Everyone else had already gotten up and began turning in their tests while Travis was holding his shakily in his hands. He gripped it tight, his eyes scanning over the paper. Even if he didn’t answer all of the equations, he did make an effort and did most of the work, even if it was incorrect. Hopefully that would get him a point. He hesitantly stood up and took two steps before already being at Packerton’s desk. Handing in his paper and placing it into the basket, Travis sprinted out of the classroom before he could get a response from Packerton. She always seemed to question him. Travis almost tripped over his own shoe on his way out.
Travis bumped shoulders with everyone he passed by, attempting to escape the busy halls. His empty stomach churned in discomfort, his head pounding the whole way. The tall boy walked to the cafeteria, head down, eyes on his bright sneakers.
Stepping into the lunch room, Travis looked up to see tables full of other kids, eating and engaging with each other. Why couldn’t Travis do that? He was a kid too, after all.
The blonde walked up to the lunch line before scowling at the sight. Pizza. All it was was grease, bread, cheese.. and who knows what? He couldn’t even deny the fact that it actually looked somewhat appetizing right now, and he hated pizza. There was bologna sandwiches on the other hand, one thing he did like. Weird, considering they never gave the students options. Maybe the lunch ladies were tired of the complaining. But did he really want to be seen eating? Travis stood there, contemplating.
Travis’ stomach churned once more. He wanted to be able to go in line and grab food for himself, but he wasn’t going to do that, as per usual. He wouldn’t risk gaining weight if it meant the whole world would corrupt. 'Over my dead body,' He thought.
Travis quickly snapped out of his daze as the sound of someone gagging and wet vomit hitting the tiled floors hit his ears from behind him. His whole body went tense. Laughter, flashing photos, screaming. Vomit didn’t set well with Travis. Any that wasn’t his own, that was. Other people seemed so unsanitary compared to him.
Loud.
Too loud.
Travis didn't care to think right now. He ran. He ran as far as his legs could take him. And for Travis? That was the school bathroom; hardly 20 feet away from the cafeteria. In this condition, he could hardly stand.
Panting, Travis swung the bathroom door open, revealing all of the stalls and sinks. It was empty. That was good. Empty meant he didn’t have to hide from anyone. Not having to hide meant he didn't have to keep quiet. He was safe for now.
Travis went to his usual stall — the large, handicap stall in the back of the bathroom. He threw his backpack on the ground and slammed the door shut, locking it. He made sure it was locked at least three times to make sure no one could get in.
'Three’s an unlucky number..' Travis thought to himself before making sure it was locked once more. Even or nothing. He tossed his backpack down on the ground and sat on it, lifting his knees up to his chest and gripping his hair. He stared at the ground, practically shaking from being so lightheaded. Travis took his hands out of his hair only for strands to fall out. Just how long has it been since he’s had a proper meal? Or, maybe it was the god forsaken bleach his father forced him to dump in his hair. Either way, it wasn't good.
The blonde’s eyes scanned the stall, as if he wasn’t in here every day. The bathroom reeked of urine and mold. He swore that was moss seeping through the walls.
Tears welled up in Travis’s eyes as his jaw tightened, angry that he let himself turn out this way. He clawed at his scalp, tears running down his cheeks and falling onto his purple cardigan.
He was hungry. He was hungry and he couldn’t lie about it anymore. It’d been too many months without food, surviving off of water and occasional snacks. It’d been at least six or seven months like this. Travis’s skin got paler. It was obvious. His ribs poked out of his skin, malnourished. Food felt like a chore. Travis let his arms fall to his sides, glancing at his hands. His fingernails were brittle and faded a soft yellow.
Travis leaned his head against the metal wall with a grunt, just needing to rest. He was insanely lightheaded, arms wrapped tightly around his thin figure.
Another voice called out from behind the stall. He hadn’t even heard the bathroom door open.
“Anyone in there?”