The Gay Gatsby

Chapter 9: Wasn't This in a Porno?

Author's note: I'm not super happy with how this chapter turned out, but I hope it's to your liking.

Also, I'm going to be away from home for three weeks, and I'm going to try my best to continue writing, but I'm warning you that updates might be shorter and take long to post. (They may also have an abundance of spelling/editing errors due to the fact that the mobile wattpad sucks)

Enjoy.

Chapter 9: Wasn't this in a porno?

"Reserving judgments is a matter of infinite hope."

     - F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby 

Chance

If my nose wasn't bleeding before, it was surely bleeding now.

For such a small kid, Callaway could pack a punch.

For the second time that morning, I brought two digits up to my nose to investigate the damage brought on by Callaway's enigmatic spout of anger. Unsurprisingly, my index and forefinger found themselves coated in red, dripping thickness.

I contemplated on what I was going to do next and groaned as I thought about how I'd have to explain this to the school nurse and then, my dad.

I just really really didn't want to get Callaway in trouble for what had happened, because it wasn't his fault that people at school were jerks who had a tendency to harass people like Callaway who were-

Callaway.

I had completely forgotten that he had run off to the washroom before I could even mutter a word.

What had happened?

I didn't know what I had done to cause that type of reaction. Whatever I had done, I felt unfathomably horrible about it.

I had to apologize or at least do something. He was being harassed, for god's sake. I couldn't let that just happen to somebody.

My earlier anger returned as I remembered the sticky note still adorning the boy's locker.

I spent a moment simple letting the crimson from my nose drip across my lips as I waited for my fury to subside. The taste of iron burning as I stared at the floor.

I spared a glance around the previously crowded hallway, and found it to be nearly empty due to the fact that class was to start in about 30 seconds.

My feet took a few steps toward the nearest stairwell, in an attempt to make their way toward my science class, but my mind hesitated. I couldn't go to class without any supplies, looking like I got into an intense make out session with a chainsaw. My teacher would probably send me out anyway, on behalf of me only serving as a distraction for other students.

So my brain supplied me with two relatively legitimate options; suffer through a visit to the nurse before having to deal with the inevitable explanation of my situation or skip class to go visit Callaway in the bathroom in an attempt to help him and make sense of the situation.

If I was smart and had any sense of self-preservation, I would've gone with the former option.

I'm an artist though, and what would an artist be if not a bit reckless?

I held my sleeve to my nose as quickly made my way towards the boy's washroom.

________

Once I pushed open the pale grey of the door to the washroom, my ears were met with the hushed noises of enraged cursing.