On the other end of my life, Roger and Marisa went out for a month. Roger adored her. He was a great boyfriend, too. He bought her gifts and always paid for everything, he was polite, he was affectionate, and he always complimented her on how she looked. Whenever he saw her in the hallways at school he hugged her or blew her kisses from a distance.

She made him happy. He came into school everyday bouncing on the balls of his feet and humming. He�d sling an arm around my shoulders and chirp, �How goes it, compadre?� and before I could lie in response he�d continue with, �Guess what Marisa said last night on the phone!� They got together often, whether it was at the movies, mall, or each other�s houses. Every get-together renewed his infatuation and boosted his confidence. Because this girl liked him, he felt he was worth something in the world, and her words had ten times the effect mine ever did. �She says I�m funny and sweet,� he told me repeatedly, his thin face stretched into that wide jovial grin of his. �She says she really likes me.�

What bothered me was that he believed her.

Perhaps my judgment was a bit biased, my observations a bit skewed, on account of how I felt about him and how I felt about her. Perhaps I imagined all of it. But I don�t think I did.

I got the feeling Marisa didn�t like Roger.

When he hugged her and kissed her cheek in school she�d freeze. She never sought him out in the hallway the way he did, never went out of her way to touch him affectionately. She simply flashed that sultry, �climb-in-bed-with-me� smile�the same one she gave all the boys (but me). When she was feeling touchy-feely, however, she�d be on him like panty hose, and her tongue would wrestle with his until they were both in danger of suffocation. He�d start to say something, and she�d immediately kiss him, and I started to think that the only reason they kissed so often was because she didn�t want to listen to him talk.

I know this, of course�I saw it. I took every opportunity to double date that he offered. Not because I ever wanted to see Kelsi again, or because I enjoyed watching the harlot slime all over Roger, but because I wanted to keep an eye on them. My Roger may have been an insecure moron, but if he was going to be completely blinded by this girl and her purple eyeshadow, I wanted to be there to protect him. If being a faggot had any helpful points, it was that I couldn�t be hypnotized by a girl. I could stand back and view Roger and Marisa�s relationship without my vision being clouded by her cup size.

Of course, maybe my observations were all the more unreliable due to my converse attraction, but that�s beside the point.

Basically, I wanted to be there to see what was really going on. Roger was completely oblivious to Marisa�s tone of voice and subtle body language. On the way home from the mall once, Roger recapped the events of the day, and I was amazed. He�d bought her a cute necklace�nothing too extravagant but still sweet�and she�d shrugged, smiled wanly, and immediately forgotten about it. I had cringed internally, wondering if he�d be upset later on. However, when we were in his car after the girls had left, he squealed, �I think she really liked it!� and my jaw simply dropped.

How could I say anything, though? I had no proof, and I certainly didn�t want to scratch up trouble for no reason. There was a very likely chance that I was dead wrong. After all, what the hell did I know about girls? Maybe this was how all girls treated their boyfriends.

Although�mine sure didn�t! No, no, Kelsi Torelli was to me what Roger was to Marisa. She seemed to have the same complex, as well. She�d wave and blow kisses at me, and I�d completely and utterly ignore her. She, of course, didn�t notice, being as oblivious as Roger was. Worse yet, she went around telling the entire school was I was her boyfriend and that we made out daily.

We all went to a party together, a typical party for the �popular� crowd: beer, drugs, loud hip-hop music, and no chaperones. I went solely to make Roger happy and keep him sober�he was my ride home, after all. I spent the entire night absolutely miserable and antisocial, which was pretty typical of me at any party. Since my only friend was busy snogging in the next room, I plopped myself on the couch and munched on some chips and salsa while watching some boys from my team play Playstation. Without warning and much to my chagrin, Kelsi bounded over and landed heavily in my lap. She completely disregarded the glare I gave her, apparently taking me for one of those sulky Abercrombie-bag boys.

As usual, she instantly lapsed into a one-sided conversation about what a slut Allison was, OhMyGod had I heard about Jenna and Miguel?, and wow! I looked really cute tonight! When she started talking about Marguerite, I really felt a twinge in my temples.

�That girl is such a loser, oh my God! She thinks she�s all that, and she�s really just this skinny little DORK! She has, like, no boobs! It�s hysterical! You poor thing, she has some crazy obsession with you, you know. But, oh my God, she was really being annoying in art class the other day so I went up to her and was like, �Yeah, well, Arik Redde is MY boyfriend, and he�ll never go out with you, so why don�t you just leave him alone!� And she SO, like, ran and cried in the bathroom for the rest of class, the loser.�

At that point I suddenly stood up, and she was dumped from my lap with a squeak.

�Ummm, I don�t think we should go out anymore,� I declared with as much half-hearted gusto as I dared, and she gawked up at me from the floor with eye-liner-framed eyes. �Um, yeah. Later.�

And I turned on my heels and escaped from the room. Behind me she squealed, �Wh-what? Y-y-you�re dumping me?!�

I made my way through a minefield of drunks, bored people, and entangled couples snogging and found the refrigerator and a safe can of Sprite. Sipping on it, I meandered through the house looking for Roger, floating like an inconspicuous phantom and only raising my head to smile at people who, for whatever reason, called out greetings to me.

I heard them before I walked in on them. Hearing Marisa�s voice raised, I stopped outside the door to the patio. The voices were muffled, but I could tell she was yelling at him, obviously very annoyed, and Roger was apologizing.

The door was pushed open suddenly, and Marisa barged into me.

�Get out of my way, faggot,� she hissed, elbowing her way around me and trotting down the hall like an offended stallion. I didn�t so much as bat an eye, for that was how she referred to all men who displeased her.

Roger followed, shuffling morosely, though when he saw me his mouth twisted into a halfhearted smile. �Hey man,� he said, �is it okay if we leave? I�m kind of sick of this party.�

�Ha, fine by me!� I agreed.

Roger gave another half-hearted grin and gathered his coat. He was completely sober, I noticed with relief, so no worries about him driving like sometimes happened after these parties. However, I saw him pocket a can of Budweiser.

�For later,� he explained when I cleared my throat disapprovingly. �I�m not stupid enough to drink while driving.�

�I still say you shouldn�t be drinking at all,� I snipped.

�Sod off,� he snapped. �I kind of had a bad night, okay? I need to relax.�

�Oh, yeah, great idea, get drunk around your parents,� I muttered as we walked through the cool night air to the car.

He spun around to say something, or shove me, but hesitated, thought better of it, and whirled back around. He got in the car and leaned his head back against the headrest, his white skin glowing and his dark hair melting away in the darkness.

�So� what happened?� I inquired to break the silence, sitting down in the passenger seat and buckling my seatbelt.

He closed his eyes; a fringe of soft black lashes on white; debated telling me, decided against it, and replied, �Nothing. It�s nothing.�

And then a melancholy silence.

�I broke up with Kelsi, you know,� I said.

�How come?� he asked, surprised.

�Because she�s a hooch, a bitch, and she�s dumb as a rock. I can�t stand her. Besides, do you have any idea how gross her lip gloss tastes?�

Roger laughed, and some color returned to his cheeks. I grinned.

Apparently cheered up, he started the car and we went home.

The following Monday Roger came into school with a rose for Marisa to say he was sorry for whatever they�d been arguing about. She smiled when he gave it to her, but as soon as he walked away she tossed it in the trashcan and all her girl friends cackled. Thank God Roger didn�t see.

That weekend I went to the mall with Mum and Harry for cold weather clothes, since November was approaching. I was supposed to watch Harry while my mom went for shoes, but he slipped away while I was busy fawning over a sale at American Eagle, and when I finally found him again he was chatting away about cartoons to a purple-haired, multi-pierced employee in some Goth store. Creeped out, I grabbed him and escaped into the closest safe-zone, the Gap. Which was where Marisa worked, I remembered very quickly.

She was behind the counter, leaning forward and talking to a football player I recognized from school. And judging on the way she leaned to purposely let her shirt gape wide open, licked her iridescent lips after every other word, and batted her eyelashes like she had some strange eye disorder, they were definitely not talking about the weather. He leaned down, too, and she fiddled with a lock of his blonde curls and giggled.

A dumpy woman came over with her pre-pubescent daughter to pay, and the football player stood up and sauntered off (and it was amazing he could walk at all, with the crotch of his pants down at his knees.)

�I�ll see you tonight,� Marisa called after him flirtatiously, and began to ring up the woman�s purchases.

See you tonight? I scowled, very suspicious. Before she saw me, I fled from the store and found my mother again.

If she hurt Roger, I would never forgive her.

With all these things building up, I knew in my gut that it was only a matter of time before something happened. I didn�t want anything to happen�I couldn�t stand to see Roger hurt�but it was as inevitable as a time bomb ticking down.

Anger welled inside of me for days, in black and red lava that hissed around my ribs, simmering and festering. She knew Roger cared about her. He truly cared about her well-being; he was oblivious, but he was a wonderful person with a big heart�how could she treat him like this? If she didn�t like him, it�d be better for her to break up with him, to let him down kindly and respectfully, than to play with his feelings and use him to amuse her friends.

And then Doomsday came.

It happened in the hallway after lunch, after Roger and I had split up. I�d just finished loading books into my locker when I heard her voice ringing through the hallway. It was the shrill of a siren, sweet and flirtatious and jovial and completely wicked. I looked up and fished her out from her group of fellow bitches and sluts. She had the blonde football player pinned against the lockers, her arms wrapped around his middle and her chin against the chest of his green polo shirt. She was smiling and giggling at whatever the football player was saying.

The football player being her other boyfriend, apparently.

Somewhere inside me, something cracked.

I slammed my locker shut with such force that a freshman walking by squeaked in surprise. I hefted my backpack onto my shoulders and stomped purposefully towards the squealing mass, pushing and shoving anyone who got in my way. In less than ten long strides I was there, and I grabbed a girl�s backpack and spun her out of my way to gain entrance into the circle that surrounded Marisa and the other guy. The girl squeaked in anger, and a gaggle of heavily painted faces gawked at me, wondering what on earth I thought I was doing.

�Wow, Marisa, you really are popular!� I spat, so loud, so hateful. �Two boyfriends at the same time!�

There was a sudden silence as the spectators all took in their breaths at the same time. Marisa coiled off the football player like a python releasing its prey and turned to face me with a venomous snake face and slitted reptilian eyes.

�Excuse me?� she hissed.

�You know what I�m talking about, you little bitch,� I retorted. In any other situation I would have melted before I even got this far, but now, this was different�I was furious. I didn�t care what she said back or what anyone thought�I was going to tell her exactly what I thought of her.

She drew back�a cobra puffing its hood. She put her hands on her hips. �Oh, you mean that O�Donnell boy��

�His name is Roger.�

�I don�t care what his name is, he�s a complete loser and a retard, and I have better things to do than waste my time with wimpy puppy-dog morons like him,� she leered.

You bitch you bitch you bitch. �Then why the hell did you go out with him for all this time?!�

Her lips curled into a simpering smirk with half-lidded eyes. �Well, he bought me lots of nice things,� she answered slyly, and her gaggle of girls and the guy snickered and cackled. �Besides, everyone knows he�s funny to watch when he gets drunk, don�t we?� And her cronies screeched more.

I was at a sudden loss for words, stunned. How could she be saying these things in front of everyone? I wanted to hit her�punch her with as much force as I could muster�I wanted to grab her and tear her apart�but she was a girl; I couldn�t touch her.

�What the FUCK is WRONG WITH YOU?!� I screamed, and all through the hall heads turned at my raised voice. �How can you be so cruel? Do you have ANY compassion at all?! How can you be so heartless?!�

Her eyes narrowed and her carefully shaped eyebrows dove into a V. Color was rising beneath her caked makeup on her cheeks. She opened her mouth to spit something back, but I cut her off, completely losing it.

�He cared about you, you goddamn whore! He cared about you, but all you did was play with his feelings! And you don�t care, do you? All you care about is money and sex and to hell with anything else! All you are is a fucking WHORE!�

In one swift movement she stepped forwards and slapped me across the face with a force that sent stars to my vision.

She stepped right in front of me and leaned forwards�she was taller than me�her long-taloned finger in my face. Her words were controlled, but dripping with venom�she was pissed. �Look, you little faggot, you need to shut the fuck up. You are in no position to even talk to me�you�re even more of a freaking loser than O�Donnell. You have no friends, have you noticed? No one likes you! All you are is O�Donnell�s bitch, and everyone knows it! So get the hell over yourself, and get the hell out of my face!�

�Yeah, well!� I retorted, fists clenched, �I hope you realize that Roger is the only guy who�s ever gone out with you for reasons other than wanting to screw you! And believe me, EVERYONE knows that!�

She slapped me again, but this time I grabbed her wrists. She screeched and kicked me in the shins, shrieking. She pulled away and stepped back. �YOU FAGGOT!� she hollered, and started off down the hallway.

Then, in my final moment of glory, I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled at the top of my lungs, �BETTER A FAGGOT THAN A PROSTITUTE!�

And the entire hallway burst into laughter.

Chapter Fifteen...