Taste The Rainbow

Falling Away From Me

Falling Away From Me

"Hey faggot, watch where you're going!" I watch as Joe, the average jock with blond hair that plays football slams a student by the name of Jenny, or Jackson as he prefers to be called, into a locker. I flinch in pain, knowing from personal experience that although Joe's IQ is lower than a baboon's, he is very strong.

Although I do feel bad for Jackson, I can't help but be relieved that I'm momentarily invisible enough to slide into my seat in European History.

Thankfully the teachers love me, so I'm completely safe in all my classes, it's just the hallways that I have to watch my back in.

Ten minutes after the bell rings Jackson finally limps into class, looking more than a little hurt with a very noticeable limp. The teacher doesn't get too mad at him though, because all the teachers like him. The aggravating thing about the teachers favoring us is that despite that fact, they can't do anything about the constant bullying.

This stupid state doesn't have any laws that can protect us because we're, and I quote, "an unnecessary minority who don't need special treatment". So the only thing the faculty can do is suspend Joe, and the other jerks, for a day or two but that doesn't help so they've kind of stopped trying considering it just does more harm than good.

"Okay class, today we will be talking about how to Industrial Revolution affected Europe." The teacher, Ms. Gleaming, starts when Jackson takes a seat. The rest of the class goes well-considering none of the stupid jocks are smart enough to take an Advanced Placement class.

While I walk to my next class I hear the jocks taunting Jackson again but I don't dare try to step in because although I do feel bad for him, I'm not suicidal, I'm not going to go sacrifice myself to save some kid I barely know. I walk past the scene, silently grimacing at how bad Jackson looks.

He has a busted lip, his clothes are quite disheveled, and it's obvious he's trying not to cry while the jocks continue to taunt him about everything; from the way he dresses as, apparently, "goth" all the way to the low blow that he was born as a girl. I can tell they're taunting is getting to him but it's clear that he doesn't plan to run, which confuses me.

When they decide to pick on me I run, I run to the safety of a classroom merely because I can't take their taunting for very long before I end up breaking down. I mean sure, I've dealt with this nearly my whole life, but it still hurts.

And yet Jackson just takes it. I swear his eyes catch mine when I shuffle past the scene but then again I was probably just imagining it.

Of course, the next few classes are boring until I reach Government, the only general class I'm taking which means I have to endure thirty minutes of gay jokes followed by another thirty minutes of "Emo" jokes all while trying to listen to the teacher who also tries to make the jocks shut up.

I walk into the class first while the teacher is putting a quiz on each table. He looks up at my entrance and smiles warmly at me.

"Hello, Damian, you can go ahead and start on the quiz if you would like." He offers after putting the last paper on the last table, walking back to his desk to sit down in wait of the other students. I merely nod, not bothering to reply because I know he doesn't expect a reply.

The quiz is simple, just a small written quiz about the latest chapter we went over in our books. Only a few minutes after I finish the quiz kids begin to pile into the classroom, many groaning at the sight of the quiz on the tables.

Jackson, of course, comes in a few minutes after the final bell rings, looking horrible. He has dark bruises all over his arms, disappearing under his shirt, his hair is a disheveled mess from being pulled on repeatedly, and he has a dark bruise around his left eye along with a busted lip.

The teacher doesn't say a word as Jackson makes his way to his seat. The class finishes the test in about ten minutes so the teacher gathers them up before starting the lecture.

"How many of you have been watching, or reading, the news?" He starts and half the class raises their hands. He nods as if expecting this.

"How many of you have heard of the new law, AB1266, that was passed in California a few weeks ago?" The whole class raises their hands before the class erupts in chatter. The class becomes increasingly loud as the kids have debates on whether the law is a good or bad thing. Thankfully the teacher doesn't let it go on too long and gets the class to quiet down.

"I want the class to pair off in groups. Those who believe the law is a good implement in schools move to the right side of the class, occupying the first three rows of tables. Those who are neutral please stay in the middle, occupying the next three rows of tables. And last those who oppose the law move to the left of the class, occupying the last three rows of tables."

The class does as instructed, pretty much splitting the class into two sides. Only three people stay in the neutral rows while the rest are split nearly evenly between the opposing and agreeing sides. I, of course, am on the right with the group that agrees with the law, as is Jackson.

"Alessia, why don't you explain why you're on the neutral side." The teacher prompts and I nearly groan, realizing he's going to have random students explain why they're where they are, which means, of course, Joe is going to speak up.

"Well, I just don't know the extent of the law. I mean, would the student need to have proof that he or she is transgender or would the school take their word for it and let anyone use their chosen bathroom? How would the school differentiate between those students who are really transgender and those who are just pretending so they can get a free show?" The girl, Alessia, explains and the teacher nods in understanding.

"You have a good point. Josh, why don't you share your opinion?"

"Nah, I'm giving Joe my turn." The jock, Josh who also happens to be Joe's friend, says lazily while Joe smirks.

"Thanks, Josh. I think chicks should use chick bathrooms, while the dudes use the dude's bathrooms. It's not natural for a chick to pretend she's a dude and vice versa. It's against God's laws and frankly, I think all the fairies, dikes, and trannies, need to be eradicated from Earth." He explains and I snap, quite literally.

"So you're saying we need to commit g******e? Isn't that what Hitler thought of the Jews? And anyone who didn't fit into his "perfect race"? Why don't we go kill off anyone who likes onions too?" I sneer, venom lacing my voice while the teacher looks quite surprised.

"That's different. People don't choose to like onions or not like onions." He shoots and I throw my hands up in exasperation.

"Neither do we!" I shout just as the bell rings, indicating that class is over and lunch is beginning. I leave the class as soon as possible, stopping only when I reach my locker. I put my stuff into the locker, ready to walk to the lunch room until I hear a distressed cry come from the other end of the hallway. I look in the direction just in time to see Jackson turning the corner into a bathroom.

I almost just walk away, almost leave him to do as he wishes but something compels me to walk to the bathroom. Maybe it's the fact that Jackson intrigues me, or the fact that I may have a small crush on him, but either way, it's what leads me to push the bathroom door open to reveal a horrid sight.

Jackson is on his knees, shaking with a razor blade in his hand, holding it against his wrist. His head snaps up at my entrance, eyes portraying a fear that I feel.

"Jackson," I start, carefully taking small steps towards him, hoping I can get the blade away from him. "You don't want to do that. I don't want you to do that. Come on, just talk to me." I coax, bending down to be at eye level with him and carefully taking the blade from his hand.

He doesn't look at me but I see the tears welling in his eyes, making my heart clench. I reach up, suddenly feeling the need to console him, and wipe the first tear that falls away. He finally looks at me, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"I like you." He blurts, his voice is timid and shaky. I blink in surprise, tilting my head to the side slightly before smiling lightly.

"I like you too," I reply, realizing these feelings I have for him aren't just pity or compassion. I lean in slowly, touching my lips to his in a gentle but breathtaking kiss.