Boy Meets World Read Count : 108

Category : Stories

Sub Category : YoungAdult

Boy Meets World

  


 Riley moved to our backwoods town in the middle of sophomore year. He was a skittish kid, small for our age, so he very quickly became the target of some good-natured teasing. He jumped every time someone got too close or raised their voice too loud near him, scampering away like a rabbit after a car backfired.

     I was a loner myself, much more into video games than social interaction, but I took pity when I saw Riley sitting alone in the cafeteria for the third day in a row and decided to share his empty table. He winced when I let my tray loudly clatter onto the plastic surface but regained his composure quickly and introduced himself. “Yeah, I know who you are,” I hand-waved, telling him my name in return. I started talking to him about the video game I was currently engrossed in and he responded with a similar level of enthusiasm. We got along easily, our conversation straying into me explaining the different social groups and weird quirks of our school.
    “Hey, tell me something, man,” he asked once I’d finished explaining our ridiculous mascot, leaning across the table and lowering his voice under the din of the cafeteria’s background noise. “Do they, like, beat up the new kid here?” His blue eyes were wide, his expression gravely serious.
    I snorted and chugged the last of my chocolate milk, crumpling the carton in my fist. “Nah, dude. They’ll leave you alone by the end of the week. ‘Sides, the jocks care more about hazing new recruits, so unless you go out for a team, you’re safe.” My eyes gave his skinny form a once-over. His clothes looked about three sizes too big, sleeves that looked as though they could serve as neckholes swallowing his small wrists. I meant it to be subtle, but my teenage self hadn’t yet mastered that art.
    Riley shook his head. “Nah, I’m not exactly athletic,” he answered, a small grin on his face. “More of a toothpick.” I laughed at that, and from then on, Riley and I were buddies. We shared a table at lunch every day, and sometimes he would come over and we would co-op on games or just order pizza and watch bad tv. Those were good times; our friendship was easy and effortless, and I found myself enjoying not spending all of my time staring at a screen by myself.

    But good things never last, and the trouble came in the spring when swimming classes began.

    Riley had always been shy about changing in the locker rooms. He had gotten mercilessly teased for always doing it in a stall, but eventually the novelty of that taunt wore off and he was left alone. But on swimming day when he showed up with notes from his doctor and his mom, no one could ignore the way the coach’s eyebrows crinkled as he examined the paperwork. He nodded, seemingly accepting the excuses, and Riley trudged over to a bench by the pool, plopping down his bag and leaning tiredly against the tile behind him.

    “Hey Riley, you allergic to water or some shit? That why you stink so bad?” Josh, one of the douchier athletes, splashed water on Riley’s sneakers.
   “Fuck off,” Riley muttered back, earning him 10 push-ups from the coach for foul language. He did them silently before resuming his spot on the bench, closing his eyes and ignoring the teasing.

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    “Dude, what was up with gym today? Are you sick or something?” I asked as we sat down for lunch, my hair still dripping from last period’s lesson.
    Riley poked at his spaghetti but didn’t make an effort to actually get any onto his fork. “I can’t do swimming.” I kept staring pointedly at him until he looked up and dropped his plastic utensil. He sighed and gave me a resigned response, eyes cast down at his sauce-covered tray. “Look, it’s a gross skin thing I don’t want to talk about. It’s why I moved schools.”
     I took a bite of meatball and chewed as I thought about how I had never seen Riley change--how no one had, not even a peek--and reasoned that a nasty skin problem would be a good reason to keep so private. Riley was staring at me now, waiting for a response. I swallowed. “Fair enough, dude. Sucks though.” He nodded and changed the topic to making weekend plans to see a movie, and I let the conversation veer into that direction instead. I didn’t want to pry--and to be honest, I didn’t really want to hear the gory details about whatever was going on underneath those baggy clothes.
    Gym class was three times a week: Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. Wednesday’s class passed without any more incident than the same jeers Riley had gotten on Monday, and he ignored them entirely. But on Friday, shit hit the fan.  The class was normal enough, but it was obvious that the four jocks who had continued to make fun of Riley weren’t enjoying his ability to tune out their taunts. As of Friday, the coach had decided to drag an old-school non-electric exercise bike into the pool area, not wanting to give Riley a free pass on not doing any physical activity. This meant that Riley had to change out of his gym clothes in the locker room after class was over, and it was this fact that ruined everything.
    Riley was holding his regular clothes as he walked over to the stalls, only to be stopped by Josh stepping directly in front of him. Josh was easily a foot taller and solidly built from his rigorous workout regimen, a fact that was all too apparent in his swim trunks. “Why you going to the stall again, Riley?” He managed to make Riley’s name sound like an insult. Riley tried to sidestep him, but Josh just blocked him again.

    “What, you some kinda fag?” Josh got closer to Riley, pushing his face in close. “I bet you need the stall cause you get a fucking hard-on from watching us change. Isn’t that right, boys?” he asked, and his three backup cronies nodded, closing in the ranks around Riley. “We got ourselves a fucking pervert!”

    “I’m not gay,” Riley replied, standing as tall as he was able. He tried to push past Josh, but Josh was too quick and too strong--one small extension of his muscular arms and Riley was on the floor on his back. I stepped forward and extended my hand to help him up. I wasn’t strong like them, but I was a big guy, and I hoped that would be enough to make them step off.
    “Just let him change, guys,” I said, trying to restore any semblance of peace. This, however, backfired as Mark, one of Josh’s friends, shoved me from behind.
    “His fucking boyfriend to the rescue,” he jeered. I stumbled, but I was too big to be toppled that easily, so I kept my footing. “Hey guys, you wanna play a game? Ever heard of smear the queer?” Mark asked, and I saw Riley’s eyes widen with panic.
    Surprisingly, Josh stepped forward, hands out in a placating gesture. “Now Mark, let’s just let the lovebirds have their alone time in the stall, okay?” He moved aside and gestured grandly towards the bathroom. My eyes narrowed in suspicion, but before I could say anything, Riley had started to scramble past him.
    The second Riley was next to him, Josh’s plan became clear as he grabbed the waistband of Riley’s pants and pulled down hard, taking down his boxers too. He had started a line about an erection, but that died when it became very clear to everyone that Riley didn’t have a penis.
    “Holy shit,” Josh whispered, letting go of the clothing as he stumbled back in shock. Riley hastily pulled up his boxers and shorts and used everyone’s stunned inaction as an escape opportunity, darting out of the locker room before another word was spoken. After I had processed what had just happened, I took off after him.

    I found Riley in the bathroom I knew he preferred the most, the one that was meant for handicapped students and was a little room of its own. He had always claimed to like the privacy, but now I understood the real reason why he wouldn’t go into the multi-stall bathrooms. I could hear him crying through the locked door and I sat with my back against it, sighing. I didn’t know what to say, so after letting him know it was me and not one of those dicks, I didn’t say anything.

    Probably five minutes passed before his crying subsided a little and he spoke, his voice muffled by the door. “This is why I left my last school,” I heard him mutter. “I wanted to be treated like a boy, and the people that knew me as a girl weren’t very understanding.” There was a pause where he blew his nose loudly. “I thought it would be different if I was just a boy from the start, you know? But it’s not.” I heard a slam, like his hand hitting the floor. “Nothingchanged!”
    I still didn’t know how to respond, but I knew I had to try something, so I opted to change the subject. “Do you still want to go to the movies tomorrow?”

    I heard a snort of laughter. “Please tell me that’s not you asking me on a date.”
    I shook my head before realizing he couldn’t see it. “Nah,” I replied. “I don’t date boys.”
   There was more silence on the other side of the door before I heard some shuffling and the lock clicked. I stood up as Riley opened the door, his face blotchy from crying, but smiling all the same.

    We went to lunch as usual and ignored the whispers and stares. The rest of the day was a blur; I was trying so hard to block out everyone’s bullshit that I don’t remember a damn thing. I had wanted to tell a teacher, the principal, anyone, but Riley begged me not to. He said it would just cause more problems and it would make his mom worry too much. He looked at me with pleading eyes and I promised to obey his request. I can’t begin to express how much I have regretted that decision every day since. We agreed to meet at the movies at noon the next day before heading home on our separate buses. That was the last time I ever saw Riley.

    Someone had overheard us confirming our plans, and because we lived in a town with less than 1,000 people, Josh and his gang got word. Everyone knew where everyone lived, so it was simple for them to intercept Riley as he walked to the movie theater, the four of them easily able to overpower my friend.

    They drove him out to the woods and they fucking brutalized him. The papers just listed assault, but as his mother later cried on my shoulder, both of us lost in our grief, she told me the full extent of what they had done to him.

    They had burned him with cigarettes and carved slurs into his skin; they cut off his breasts and raped him so badly that he had internal injuries that would have left him unable to even use the bathroom--that is, if they hadn’t lynched him and left him to die, naked and bleeding, bruises covering his face so entirely that it had to be a closed-casket funeral. I let his mother grieve to me--her husband had died several years ago and Riley was her only child, so she had no one else. It was weird, seeing pictures of Riley as a young kid with long hair, wearing dresses and holding baby dolls, in pictures around their house. His mom blamed herself for not being able to afford the hormones that he begged for and wondered if he would have passed, if he would be alive if he had been able to have access to them. I tried to tell her that it wouldn’t have made a difference, but the words were hollow, since I was also blaming myself. If I had just told someone, if I had asked him to sleep over at my house and we had gone together instead, if, if, if…
    The “if”s consumed me day and night. I stopped eating, stopped playing video games--basically, I just laid in my bed and stared at the ceiling, continually replaying that last day in my head, wondering what I could have done differently and beating myself up over every mistaken choice.
    It only made matters worse when the police ruled that Riley’s death, while a homicide, had no suspect leads. It didn’t matter to the cops that everyone knew who had done it--there was no evidence, no witnesses, and they all alibied each other flawlessly. The case was as cold as Riley’s corpse and covered up in much the same way.

    My parents only let me take two weeks off of school for grieving before they insisted I went back. They had given up on my grades at that point, but they told me that I couldn’t stay in the house forever, and so, back I went. But the school was empty without Riley, emptier still with everyone gawking at me. I sat down alone at our table and examined the ingredients on my milk carton closely, trying not to cry. Someone sat down across from me, and I looked up to see Josh leering across the table. My vision went red as he smirked. “Where’s your girlfriend?” he asked smugly.

    “Riley was a boy and you killed him,” I whispered, a tear falling down my face despite my best efforts. That just made Josh laugh.
   “You need a dick to be a man, faggot,” he responded breezily. I lunged across the table, screaming incoherently, unable to see anything but white-hot rage as my fists pummeled his face, the onslaught too sudden for him to defend himself. It took three teachers to pry me off of him and I got sent home immediately.  Luckily, I didn’t get in more trouble--I managed to break his nose--but the school opted to give me online coursework for the rest of the year and gave my parents recommendations for counsellors. I wondered if not expelling me was some sad attempt at atonement for not preventing Riley’s murder, but I never asked.

    That night, I sobbed as I stared at my ceiling, my bloody knuckles stinging as I wiped away salty tears. “Riley, I’m gonna fucking kill them,” I vowed, and I plotted how to get away with their murders just like they had gotten away with his until I fell asleep. I dreamed of Riley, whole and at peace, telling me not to do anything and that he would take care of it. “How can you?” I remember asking him in the dream, screaming through snot and tears.“You’re fucking dead.” He had smirked and told me not to worry about it, and I woke up with tears still lingering on my cheeks. “Fuck you too, subconscious,” I mumbled, furiously wiping my face.
  

    I groggily swiped at my phone, doing my usual social media sweep before getting out of bed, hoping to distract myself from the dream. I didn’t have to look further than the first article to find a suitable one. Josh, Mark, and the two other boys that were assumed responsible for Riley’s death had been attacked the previous night. They were all alive and in stable condition except for Josh--he was critical. He stabilized as the day went on, though, and slowly more details were leaked.
    Each boy’s genitalia had been completely removed, the pieces unrecovered, so there was no hope for reattachment. Josh had additionally had his Achilles tendons cut, causing him to lose a significant amount of blood and ruining any chance that he would play football professionally, as had been his goal.

    I was briefly a suspect, but my parents backed up that I had been asleep at home all night. The police were suspicious and I can’t say that I blamed them, but one piece of evidence seemed to convince them that I wasn’t involved: all four boys had been mutilated at the exact same time. The cops took this to mean that four people were involved, and since I didn’t have any other friends, it became apparent that I wouldn’t have been able to orchestrate such a mauling even if I had tried. The case went cold, just as Riley’s had.
    But Josh’s words replayed over and over in my head--that you needed a dick to be a man. I wondered if they had said that to Riley, too, as they tortured him. I felt like I knew the answer.
     And when the boys returned to school and opened their lockers, only to find their penises hanging inside like festering mistletoe, my suspicions were confirmed. Riley had always had a good sense of humor, and apparently it never went away.


2018


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