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Toby’s first day of school at his second new school this semester.
Kind of reminded him of that school in Ohio. Was that two years ago? Three?
They all ran together.
Toby had a couple of minutes to spare, so he walked toward the restroom.
He saw the knot of guys at the far end but kept his head down and headed toward the first stall.
“Fresh meat,” said an older boy, much older, like too old for high school.
Toby saw him on the bus. Someone called him Raymond.
Two guys grabbed Toby. A third blocked the door.
“Let me go.”
Raymond stepped back toward the sink and wiggled his short, stubby fingers in the stream. Then stepped closer.
Something was different; it was like Toby heard something, but not with his ears-
A wet, stubby finger flicked Toby’s nose.
Toby’s head snapped back. “Stop.”
The goons laughed.
Something dripped down Toby’s lip and into his mouth.
Only water.
Raymond leaned closer and grabbed Toby by the hairs above his ear.
Toby grunted, but not from the pulled hair.
Pain.
Middle of his chest.
Each breath was agony.
The room spun.
“Can’t — breathe.”
“Shut it!”
Stubby fingers rifled through Toby’s pockets.
Raymond extracted Toby’s lunch money, cut his eyes at the stall, and said, “Do it.”
Raymond stood at the restroom entrance, his foot blocking the door, as the goons turned Toby upside down. They shoved his head in the toilet and scrubbed him around like a toilet brush, banging his head from front to back, side to side.
The flush roared.
Toby held his breath, but the pain-
The goons must have dropped him; his head bounced against the cold floor, sending stars across his already gray vision.
The smiling Raymond leaned into the stall and his front pocket. “We will see you - tomorrow.”
Everything became silent, like the forest after a kill.
The chest pain melted away with glacial speed, and his breathing became something like normal.
A couple of kids came in and acted like someone on the floor was nothing new.
Toby slowly sat up; water dripped from his hair.
He staggered to the sink, grabbed a paper towel, but the room spun again.
His reflection became the color of an overcast sky.
He sat on a toilet and put his head down between his knees.
Sweat flowed down his back.
Nausea.
Cramps.
The first bell rang.
Three minutes to get to the other side of the school.
He tried to stand.
Nope.
Found his feet on the second try and slowly exited the restroom.
Walked toward the office, but one of Raymond’s goons stood guard outside the door.
“Keep walking.”
***
Breathing ragged, Toby found the English class as the late bell sounded.
The teacher said, “Mr. um” he checked his roster, “Peoples?”
Toby stopped.
The bearded older gentleman looked over his half-glasses and raised those bushy eyebrows. “We will be on time.”
Toby nodded but concentrated on breathing.
He fell into his chair; it slid back a few inches.
“And Mr. Peoples?” drawled the southern gentleman.
“Sir?”
“It is against the rules to have dripping hair after gym class.”
There is no gym class before first period, but Toby just nodded.