Page 10 of Save Me

“Who’s this?” Dad asks, and even from across the room, I can smell the beer on his breath.

“Mr. and Mrs. Stevens,” Joshua says.

“This is–” My friend? Something more than that? “Joshua.” I turn back to give him a reassuring look, but his face is a mask of blankness.

“It’s late,” Dad says. “Time to go home.”

Joshua nods and backs up toward the back door. I feel torn between following him and asking Dad what the big deal is. He’s almost never home now anyway. Why does he care?

I turn to follow Joshua, who’s disappeared, but Dad’s voice follows me. “You stay here, son.”

I stop short. Dad never used this tone on me, and now he’s scared off Joshua. When I turn, my face is red.

“We’re gonna be late, you said you’d come with me,” Mom whines.

“Who the fuck is that?” Dad’s sneering now.

“Nicholas, did you hear me?” Mom asks.

“Who is that?” Dad roars.

“His name is Joshua!”

Dad’s mouth twists into a sneer. “Is that your little boyfriend?” He sets his beer glass down on the counter with a clink, making liquid slosh everywhere. For some reason, all I can focus on is his blue fingernails. They’ve been blue for a while.

I suck in a breath at the hatred I see in Dad’s gaze. It stops me cold, rooting me to the spot.

“I will not have a soft faggot for a son.” Dad slings the glass of beer my way. “I don’t even want to look at you.”

Cold beer splatters across my face, breaking me out of my frozen spot and into reality as the glass crashes into the cabinet.

Dad thinks I’m gay.

What’s happening? I’m not gay, right? I don’t know. Is Joshua okay?

Dad’s still yelling, and now Mom has joined in, so I take one step toward the back door, then another until I’m out of the house.

Where’s Joshua? I don’t see his car in the driveway, but I can hear my parents yelling inside. For a brief second, I wish it were Mom fighting for me, then I get even sadder. This is reality, not some make-believe world.

My parents don’t love me, and I’ve scared the person I wanted to make happy.

The next day, I’m late for school. I forgot one of my projects, and, most importantly, Joshua is avoiding me. Every time he sees me in the hall, he turns around and goes the other way. I haven’t even been able to ask him if he’s okay. Although if he’s ignoring me, he’s probably not, but I need to talk to him. I’m certain that if I can just show him how much I care, he’ll be okay again because I do care about him. I more than care. I texted him like 30 times last night with no response.

I dig my fingernails into my eraser. I didn’t sleep at all last night, worried about how this would affect him, and beating myself up for not knowing they’d be home.

Little flakes of eraser drop onto the hallway floor. Did I take a bathroom break, and am I waiting outside of Joshua’s classroom to try to talk to him? Yes. Yes, I am. Because I know I can make it better.

When the bell rings, Joshua is one of the first out. When he sees me, he turns the other way.

“Wait!” I chase after him, stuffing the eraser in my pocket.

Joshua doesn’t turn, and the hallway starts to fill with people.

“Wait, please.” Running, I catch up with him and grab his shoulder, only to have him throw me a look with glassy, tear-filled eyes and jerk away from me.

He’s crying.

No, no, no, no. I grab him again, only for Joshua to jerk away harder. This time, the force of it knocks him into someone else. Not just someone else, an upperclassman who hates our guts. He takes one look at Joshua and his lip curls. “Watch where you’re going, twink.”