Chapter Text
"Hey, watch it!"
Virgil's head snapped up from his phone as someone barreled into him.
"I didn't—" The person was already sprinting down the hallway, their bright red varsity jacket sagging off their shoulders.
So many people. Why don't they make these hallways wider? He thought as he made his way to his locker, which was on the other end of the hall. Ducking his head once more, he moved through the endless sea of high school students. Popular kids lazily made their way to their classes while others who had actually found purpose in their lives hurried in order to not be late. Virgil was stuck somewhere in the middle, a plane of existence where he didn’t care about his grades yet the idea of being late brought forth too many unwelcome possibilities. Being late meant tons of people looking at him. Judging him. Perceiving him. That kind of attention was the last thing he wanted.
He finally reached his locker after walking down the hall for what seemed like an eternity.
"Hey neighbor."
He looked up to see Talyn opening their locker, which was directly next to his.
"Er, hey." Normally he might stay and chat with them for a second, but Virgil’s social battery was about gone for the day already. He just wanted to get his stuff and go.
So he slung his backpack over his shoulder, slamming his locker door shut. Right as he was about to leave, Talyn stopped him.
"I'm having a little get together at my place tonight. Do you want to come? I figured we're close enough at this point that you might want to go, we’ll just be playing video games and watching movies."
He froze. He was never invited to hang out with anyone. He always made a point not to talk to as many people as possible, and when he did the interaction was never positive. The occasional snarky and sarcastic comment was enough for him. However, he was surprised to find that he enjoyed talking to Talyn. They were quiet around most other people, but around Virgil they could let themselves go. He even found himself lightening up a little, his worries disappearing even if it was only for a moment.
"I—Uh, I have to babysit a cousin of mine tonight. Sorry." He lied and picked up his pace, getting as far away from Talyn as possible. He didn’t want to see the confused look on their face. They were smart enough to know that he would never babysit in a million years.
Stupid, why did you decline? The voice in the back of his head asked irritably. He dug his nails into his palms as he sat down at his desk for English. His bag dropped onto the floor. He didn’t bother getting out the needed materials for the class. Lunch was after this. School work had already checked out of his mind for the time being.
The teacher began their lecture and he began to grow weary, his eyelids drifting shut. His mind, however, was very awake.
You can still accept their offer. You can have friends.
He shook his head. What would happen if he said something wrong? What if he did something embarrassing? What if he had a panic attack there? They’d think he was weird. They wouldn’t know what to do. He’d never be invited back. All it could bring him was pure humiliation.
"Mr. Manson, I asked you a question."
He sat up, startled. Eyes shifted to him immediately, their stares boring into him.
"I-I'm sorry, could you maybe repeat it?"
The teacher sighed in disappointment, which wasn't a new thing. That was the way most people reacted to him.
"Pay attention next time. Can someone please remind Mr. Manson what my question was?"
A kid with glasses shot his hand up. His hair was smoothed back perfectly, not a single strand out of place. He wore a black collared shirt, his tie as straight as an arrow. Of course he was the first to volunteer.
"You asked what element drives the central plot of a story."
The teacher grinned. "Correct, Mr. Barry!"
A few kids near the back of the room snickered and began whispering.
No doubt talking about me, he thought bitterly. They were probably thinking about how stupid Virgil was for not remembering the question in the first place. Or they were simply laughing at the other kid for being what they called a “nerd.”
"So, can you provide the answer?" The teacher turned back to him expectantly.
"Y-Yeah. Is the element.. conflict?"
"Very good. Conflict between characters is important, because it drives the central plot. How characters react to conflict can tell us a lot about them as a person, and the decisions they ultimately make will also help to drive the story forwards. Now take out your books and turn.."
She droned on as Virgil sank back into the depths of the water, drowning in the noise of those around him and that of his own thoughts.
———
Lunchtime.
Oh, lunchtime.
He hated it, despised it, even. It was a time when everybody clumped together in their 'cliques.' Virgil never knew where to go. He wandered around like an idiot, and he could often feel his classmate's eyes on him. They were probably thinking, "hey, look at this idiot. Doesn't know where he's sitting." He often sat with Talyn, but there were days where more people spontaneously decided to join them at their table. Today was one of those days. Virgil found himself rerouting away from the lunchroom.
Instead he sat down with his tray at a large rectangular table in the library, where only one other kid sat. It was the same kid from earlier that had repeated the teacher's question. Logan Barry. Virgil recalled hearing his name during attendance. They had maybe said two words directly to each other ever, which was fine with him. He seemed to be annoying anyways.
He found a random book on one of the shelves, titled If We Were Villains. It seemed interesting enough, and to top it all off the cover was black, simple. He sat back down. He didn’t mind reading, but it was something he enjoyed in very small doses. Sometimes it was a method for him to “recharge.” To create his own little bubble away from the tide. He peeled open a bag of chips and began to read.
"You shouldn't be eating while reading library books. It can get them dirty and then you'd have to pay a fee. Also, you're making a lot of noise. I’d appreciate it if you chose to consume food that wasn’t so audibly distracting, especially in a library where silence is crucial." He spoke in a monotone voice, and as if to add to the effect, he pushed his glasses up his nose.
Virgil glared at him for a moment and set his book down. “I don’t know if you’re aware of the daily schedule, but it’s lunch time. Excuse me for bothering to eat.” Logan’s eyes remained on him, unmoving. Virgil bounced his leg uneasily. His face was expressionless, so he assumed that Logan clearly was not pleased with his response. But how Logan felt about Virgil wasn’t his problem. If he had such an issue with his eating he could move.
“I’m not implying that you should be malnourished. Just that you should choose not to eat in the library. Don’t you usually eat in the lunch room with your friend Talyn anyways?” Logan asked, his gaze returning to his own book. Virgil’s eyes narrowed. “Why does that matter to you?”
Logan’s eyebrows raised. He looked him in the eyes once more. “I pay attention to the people and things around me, Virgil. A quality that you clearly lack.”
He closed his book. His patience had been starting to run thin. The cord was already pulled tight. With Logan, it snapped. “My grades may be leagues below yours, but that doesn’t mean I don’t notice things either.” He retorted. Logan didn’t respond, so he continued. “You’re always by yourself and when you’re not you’re getting beat up. In English you've been called down to the office at least once a week for the past month now. So maybe think next time before you criticize what others may “lack,” according to you. Now do me a favor and leave me alone.”
Logan pushed back a few stray hairs that had fallen out of place. He quickly grabbed his book, pushing his chair back a bit too forcefully as he stood. Virgil flinched, not expecting the sudden noise of the chair being shoved in towards the table. In an instant Logan had left the library. Any trace of his presence there previously was now gone.
Virgil returned to eating and reading his book.
A couple minutes later a shout could be heard from just outside the library doors. He looked around to see if the librarian or anyone else had heard. The librarian was gone, most likely on her lunch break. Students that had been there had already left. He was alone. He winced as a loud thud could be heard against the other side of the wall. The voices that spoke were muffled, but it sounded like a group of boys.
Virgil closed his book and returned it to its spot on the shelf. He would have to check it out later. Lunch would end soon. But judging by the sounds he’d heard from outside the library, he’d have to find his way around the football players. Clearly they’d found another target to pick on. Virgil didn’t plan on becoming their next one.
He gathered up his stuff and took a deep breath before peeking out of the library door.
The boys were farther away from the door than he had expected. His heart raced, pounding in his ears. He could get away. They wouldn’t see him. Besides, they were too preoccupied with torturing another student. One of the larger boys shoved their victim against the wall, holding him by the front of his shirt. The impact knocked his glasses off of his face. It took Virgil a second to register just who they were beating up.
Logan’s breaths were quick, ragged. Virgil could hear them from all the way over where he was standing. His glasses fell to the ground. Logan’s face looked surprisingly bare without them. As if they were a part of his entire being, his personality. As if he were naked in front of a crowd, unable to move. Logan yelled for help, but nobody came. Virgil stood frozen where he was.
Logan’s eyes searched around desperately until they rested on him.
Logan held his stare, firm and calculating even now, even as the football player reeled back his arm. He had stopped yelling. He knew he was there. If Virgil was going to help him, he would. He wanted to move. Part of him screamed to help him. Yet he remained rooted in place.
The only time Logan’s gaze broke away was when the other boy’s fist made contact with his face.
Virgil snapped out of his trance. He stepped into the hall and let the door drift shut behind him. Logan looked up once more, the area around his right eye a bright red. Virgil started to back away. He had to leave. Get to his locker. Get to his class. Go anywhere else but here.
Finally, he forced himself to turn his back to the scene.
He pulled up his headphones as Logan began to shout once more.
————
Virgil stepped off the bus, pulling his headphones down to rest around his neck. His mom’s 1998 Toyota Camry sat in the driveway. The lawn was overgrown, not having been tended to in a while. Their house was small, the siding faded and peeling. He approached the front door, opening and closing it swiftly. He slid his shoes off and glanced around. His mother poked her head around the corner which led to the kitchen.
“Oh hey Virge, I must not have heard the bus pull up. How was school?”
He ignored the image of Logan that resurfaced in his mind. The way his eyes had not left his until he had inevitably received a black eye. He tapped his fingers against the counter absent-mindedly. The smell of freshly baked cookies distracted him momentarily as his mom pulled them out of the oven. “It was fine. Can I have one?” He reached towards the pan of cookies but was stopped by his mom slapping his hand away.
“Hold on, they have to cool down first. Besides, you’ve got to give me more than that. Just ‘fine’ isn’t an answer.”
He shrugged. “It was just fine. Nothing else to add.” The skeptical look she gave him clearly meant she knew that he was lying. “Alright, well I just hope that you’d tell me if you had another panic attack.”
“I didn’t have a panic attack. Like I said before, I’m fine.”
She sighed, running a hand over her face. The sound of tires hitting gravel could be heard from outside. She gestured towards the stairs. “Looks like Craig is home. Why don’t you put your school stuff away and I’ll let you know when the cookies have cooled down enough.” Virgil often spent a majority of his time in his room anyways, so he didn’t protest. He climbed the narrow staircase. While the house was small, there was a second story which consisted of a single room. It was only big enough to fit his bed and a small desk, the closet barely enough to work as storage. However, he never used it. Clothes flooded out of it and were strewn across the floor in small piles. He had too much free time yet could never find the motivation to clean it.
The front door slammed shut downstairs. Craig had been married to his mom for over a year now and still refused to be quieter when it came to his entrances. Craig was not a very agile person in general and was never soft on anything. He could tap something and it would make a dent for all Virgil knew.
Craig and his mom conversed downstairs while Virgil sat on his phone. After around ten minutes he assumed that the cookies would be cooled down enough to eat. All he’d had for lunch was a few chips, and while he could’ve eaten during one of his later classes, he had found himself without an appetite. He started to make his way down the stairs. He paused when he overheard their conversation from the living room, which was on the other side of the wall that the stairs were tucked behind.
“Craig, I think therapy would be good for him. Before, when he got diagnosed, I didn’t want to spend the money. I didn’t think we could. But his anxiety clearly hasn’t gotten any better and I think we’re finally in a place where we can pay for it regularly. He’s had a couple appointments with his school counselor, but I think it’s about time we get him a therapist.”
“There’s other things we should be focusing on right now, we shouldn’t have to worry about paying for that. Plus, I guarantee you that it will just work itself out. We all have some sort of anxiety in us, his is just a little..” Craig paused, “..heightened.”
“But what if you’re wrong? I only want the best for him, and I worry. As far as I know he doesn’t even have any friends, and if he does he doesn’t tell me about them. He never goes anywhere. He’s always stuck up in his room. I don’t want that to be the entirety of his high school experience. That’s not how.. That’s not how things should be.”
Craig took a few steps. It was like that man stomped everywhere he went.
“You know how I’m friends with John Acree, the physics teacher at the high school? We were talking recently and he informed me about how a new counseling program is starting up. It’s basically “group therapy,” and he said that there’s supposed to be six slots in each group. Maybe something like that would help Virgil out. He could break out of his shell a little, maybe even make friends. Something like that might be more beneficial to him. Plus, there’s no extra cost.”
There was a moment of silence before Craig spoke up again. “But if you decide to do this, you can’t just let him push you around and try to get you not to sign him up. The decision needs to be final, because frankly this whole thing is getting tiring. Something needs to be done.”
More silence.
He could hear his own breath. Hear his own heart. He leaned against the wall, running his hands along the coarse, rough surface. The light in the kitchen ahead of him flickered. The clock in the living room ticked on.
“Alright. I’ll call the counselor’s office after dinner. Then I’ll tell Virgil.”
He went up a step, the wood creaking beneath him. Footsteps approached the kitchen, light and dainty. His mother turned to face him from below, her eyes widening.
“Virgil, did you hear all of that?”
He climbed a few more stairs.
“Virgil?”
Two more steps.
“Can we at least talk about this?”
His bedroom door slammed shut.