The local high school was expensive and private. Boasting of having graduated two presidents and four olympians.
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It was an overfunded facility, to say the least. Each parent believing that if they out did the rest in donations, their child would receive the best education. The Littles bought into this idea as well. They didn't donate the amount the did for their son's education though. No, they did it for the accolades.
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There were many kids who attended the high school. Most were children of well known politicians or celebrities. But a few had been given the prestigious opportunity to be placed on scholarship to attend. One of these scholarship kids in particular had a knack for bringing attention to himself.
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George Flores, the schools poster boy for diversity. As the only Hispanic and openly gay student in the school, George or as his friends called him, Jo, was constantly on display by the faculty. Hell, his picture was the on the second page of the school's flyer.
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Of course George didn't need any help from the school to be popular. His flamboyant personality was one that drew plenty of attention to himself. Or at least that was what his mother had told him.
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Sitting where he always did, George munched away on his pizza. The fancy cheese with a fancy cut of beef kind of pizza didn't matter. Just as long as George had his moms hot sauce to bathe it in.
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George's friends gathered around him like a flock of chickens to grain. He was popular to say the least. This didn't guarantee his safety from bullying. There were plenty of racist and homophobic students to go around. Like Chris for example, the boy who had just dumped the contents of a Taco Bell bag onto the only brown student's head.
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"Hey Burrito Jo, what's wrong? I thought you liked meat!" Chris cackled, using the unimaginative nickname bestowed upon George the day he transferred.
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George, as usual, ignored him. He didn't even try to brush the deep fried potato crochets out of his hair. This pissed Chris off, like usual. Chris was alone in his taunting but that was deceiving. George knew all too well what the bully was capable of.
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Chris grabbed a hold of George's short dark curls tightly. George held his breath but didn't say anything. As Chris pulled harder, the pain became obvious on the brown boys face.
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Trying to lighten the situation, Amy, a friend of George's, interrupted. "Hey, Chris, I think he's had enough." She laughed nervously. "We have class soon anyways."
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Chris didn't listen, he just tugged harder and harder, trying to get a reaction out of George. Finally a teacher intervened, asking Chris to go to class and scalding George for provoking the impressionable white boy.
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Feeling sick, George ignored his friends asking him if he was okay and dumped his lunch. No one followed him as he sulked to the bathrooms.
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George went to the first stall, but it was locked. The second stall welcomed the him and his tearful eyes. He wouldn't cry though. Crying meant that Chris had won, which he had. But admitting defeat was different. Bringing his hand to his scalp, George shuddered as he felt the fresh blood on his fingertips.
Choking back a sob, George tried to get rid of the blood by dabbing his head with the thick toilet paper.
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The sound of someone exiting the first stall startled George. He listened anxiously as person washed and dried their hands. A strange smell was coming from the stall they had just left. Something hot, like something had been burned. Possibly marijuana, George wasn't sure because he had never smelled marijuana before but that could've been it. A sigh of relief was released from the boy when the bathroom door closed.
He didn't need anyone meddling in his personal life, nor did he want anyone near him.
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Class drug on slowly for George, his head bobbing up and down as he tried to maintain consciousness. By the end of his last class, Jo was completely asleep. The teacher of the class, Dr. Len, didn't care to wake him. He thought the underprivileged boy might have a tough home life, as the statistics showed for lower class families of color.
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It wasn't until an hour after the final bell rang that his phone's ringtone woke him up.
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George lethargically trailed towards the empty hallway. Having missed the chance of receiving a ride from one of his friends, his feet were his mode of transportation. He really needed to get a hold of his sleep schedule. This was getting ridiculous.
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George could definitely see himself in the distant future having a break down. But that could wait until graduation. He needed to graduate before he lost his shit, as were his dads wishes.
George hiked his backpack higher up his shoulder,
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"Fuck this."
ns 172.69.59.172da2