Chapter Text
Curtis
“I can’t save us, Curtis,” Devon told me, squinting his eyes looking down at his feet. My boyfriend and I were at the park on the swings, and I had just told him about my illness and how long I have to live.
“So...this is it, then?” I asked with a shaky voice.
After a long pause, he finally said “yeah”. I felt my heart shatter into pieces, but I just said “okay” and got off the swing. I walked home.
I, Curtis Allen, had just broken up with my now ex-boyfriend. I loved him, and I lost him to something that wasn’t even my fault. About four years ago, I found out that I have bone cancer. I take trips to the hospital from time to time. It’s become a second home to me. I’m familiar with the doctors, the nurses, the patients. Sometimes when things get really bad, they bring in a therapy dog for me. That’s when I’m the happiest.
No one knows about this. Well, not the full story, anyway. At school, my classmates know I get sick easily, but they don’t know why. I don’t really have any friends that could know. I always shooed everyone away until I met Devon. I really liked this guy. We were in the same club. The LGBT club. That’s how we met, and then we started going out. That lasted for a good three months.
The next day was a Monday. I actually liked Mondays. Mondays meant school, and school meant a distraction from this shit life. I don’t think about how thin and frail I am, I don’t want to throw up, I don’t think about how I have a year left to live. I just do my own thing and focus on that one thing. Who needs friends, anyway?
“Hey, watch this,” I heard a whisper as I walked towards the group of jocks. I knew what was coming, and I wanted to avoid it, but if I turned around and walked the other way, they’d probably just chase me down. Believe me, I can’t outrun a bunch of football players. So, I continued to make my way, getting ready for it.
“Hiya, Ginger!” One of them called. “Where are you going?” He walked in front of me as the others surrounded me. In case it wasn’t obvious, they call me Ginger because of my orange hair and freckles.
“To class,” I mumbled looking down at my blue chucks.
“Where?” He leaned in closer with a hand to his ear.
“To class,” I said a little bit louder this time.
“Of course you are!” He exclaimed.
I started walking again, trying to get through the jocks, but they made a wall to stop me in my tracks. I looked up at their smug faces. I hated them so much.
“What are you guys doing?” A familiar voice asked from behind me. I turned around to see Justin. Justin Foster. Tall dark haired and green eyed Justin Foster.
“Just giving the little guy a hard time,” another jock chimed in. I made eye contact with Justin. He then smirked.
“Let me join in,” he said.
“Do the honors, my man.”
Justin opened his mouth and stuck his thumb and index finger in to take out gum, and then stuck it on my forehead. I felt nauseous.
“Woah!” Another one of them went wide eyed looking at me. “He’s even paler than usual!” He cackled.
“Ew, I think he’s gonna throw up,” I heard a girl whisper from her locker.
Yep. That’s exactly what I did. I threw up on Justin’s shoes. It was like the entire school knew what happened and went quiet.
“You little fucking shit.”
I ran for my life as they chased me. People made way for them, and I felt my heart pounding harshly in my chest. I laughed. I couldn’t believe I actually threw up on Justin Foster! This was hilarious! Just then, someone had snatched me by my cardigan, so I slipped my arms out from the sleeves. But that only pissed them off more. I was caught, and beat up, spit on. I took it all. Today was a special Monday.
After they were done with me, they weren’t even laughing. They were genuinely pissed. I felt everything in my body throbbing.
“Where’s your boyfriend, Ginger?” They teased. “He dump you for another faggot?”
I hated that word. The “F” word. It made me sick to my stomach. I laid there and cried.
School was over, and I went home covered in bruises. I gave my parents the same excuse. I fell down the stairs.
“This is why you should go on independent study,” my mother said, tapping her pencil on her sketchpad. “You can’t even walk around without falling down. And look how easily you bruise!”
“Are you sure those kids aren’t giving you a hard time at school?” Dad asked.
“Why would they?” I looked up from my dinner. “And mom, please put work away when we’re eating.”
Dad sighed and ran his fingers through his short grey hair. Mom picked up her sketchpad and went to put it in her room. I sat there eating my food. I ate a spoonful of mashed potatoes, a bite of my chicken, and felt full.
“Try a little harder, okay?” Dad looked at me with blue eyes.
“This is as far as I can go,” I told him.
Dad took a very long pause before giving in. I picked up my plate, threw away my food, put it in the sink, and went upstairs to take a shower.
Justin
I slammed the front door open to see my dad and stepmom eating dinner together. They both looked at me.
“You’re home awfully late,” dad said.
“I had to go out and buy new shoes,” I shrugged and started for the stairs.
“It’s so sad,” Stacy, my stepmom, said grimly. “I feel so bad for Curtis.”
“I don’t,” I mumbled.
Suddenly, I heard Stacy sob. I stopped walking up the steps and looked over at them. Dad was comforting her. I admit, I was curious. Curtis used to be my friend, believe it or not. Our fathers are both police officers, and we’ve been friends since daycare. That was until sixth grade when he kissed me and told me he had a crush on me.
I felt betrayed. I felt heart broken. I lost my best friend that day, and I was disgusted with him. I was young back then, so I wasn’t really used to guys liking other guys or girls liking other girls. I thought it was the worst thing in the world that he kissed me. Now, I put up a front like I still hate him. He’s the nerdiest kid at our school, and I’m that typical jock that bullies the weak, especially Curtis. I didn’t hate him, though. No, not at all. If anything, I admire him.
“What’s going on with Curtis?” I asked, letting my curiosity get the best of me. Somewhere inside me I still considered him my best friend. Somewhere deep.
“His boyfriend broke up with him because he’s sick,” Stacy sobbed.
“Everyone gets sick though?” I quirked a brow.
“No, he’s sick sick, Justin,” dad turned his head. “Curtis has cancer.”