The part of Arizona where I am from, Tucson, is known for being sweltering during August. Seeing how the buses had left without me, I had quite a walk to get back home, and I always packed a spare water bottle just in case. It's so hot here, that I almost forgot what grass looked like. Nobody has a nice, fresh lawn here, just tumble weeds, and sandy dirt. I used to live in Georgia five years ago, and I thought the heat there was bad, but Tucson is far worse.
I was 12 years old when my mom died. She had died giving birth to what was supposed to be my new baby sister, but she was a stillborn. My mom had originally survived the surgery, but a few weeks after she went home, she had gotten really sick, and died of sepsis. I don't really know what sepsis is, but I think it has something to do with something being dirty and causing infection, or something.
Losing my baby sister was hard, but I hardly even knew her, so losing my mom was definitely harder. It was hard on my dad too, he ended up turning to drinking, which is cliché, but that's what ended up happening anyways. He was kind of mean before my mom died, but he got even worse after it. He became snappy, and pretended like he didn't really like me anymore, as if it was my fault that she wasn't around anymore.
When I turned twelve, we moved to Arizona. We downgraded from an actual house to the trailer house community. My dad tried to convince me that two men didn't need that much space, and that we had all we needed in the mobile home. I have my own bedroom, he has his own bedroom, and we have a bathroom- so I guess that is all we truly need.
My walk from school to my house is around twenty minutes, which isn't too bad, but by the time I get home, I am so drenched in sweat that I need to peel my clothing off and take a shower.
I stomped my way up the wobbly faux-wood stairs, unlocking the front door with the only key I had on my key ring.
"Julian! My man, what is up?" I heard a familiar voice call from next door. Obviously it wouldn't have been Nancy, because she would've yelled some complaint in my direction.
"Hi Philly, not much, I guess" I gave a shrug, stepping down from the stairs to meet him halfway across our dirt. I swiped the back of my hand across my forehead, pushing some of the burnet hair out of my face. My skin burned, which only led me to believe that I must've gotten a slight sunburn.
"Miss the bus?"
"Mmm- yeah." At first I was going to lie and claim that I chose to walk on purpose, but there really wasn't a point to lie to someone who wouldn't have tattled on me anyways.
"Something up?"
It was weird, because despite being 30, Phil seemed to be the only person who seemed to know when something was the matter with me.
"I might get suspended at school- I accidentally ripped some girls' hair off."
"Her hair?" He gasped.
"Yeah, apparently she had cancer. Nobody told me, and when I pulled her hair, her whole wig came off."
"Were you flirting?" Phil teased.
"No-" I responded, trying to hide the embarrassment in my voice. I don't know why whenever I do something, anyone always assumes I am flirting. I shook my head to brush off his comment, wondering why I even bothered to come over here in the first place. I wanted to get the hell out of these drenched clothes.
"Why'd you pull her hair then?" Phil questioned.
"Broden told me to do it."
"Man, I told you to stop talking to that guy. I told you how many times, how many?"
"I dunno" I shrugged. I did know the number was pretty high, but I couldn't be exact with how many times Phil tried to talk me out of it.
"At least 50. Stop hanging out with Broden, he's bad news, chico." Phil was Hispanic. He moved to the United States from Mexico like fifteen years ago, and had a tendency to add some Spanish into his English sentences every now and then.
"It's hard when I have three classes with him this year."
"Tell your principal that he makes you do this stuff." Phil suggested trying to make things seem easier than they actually were.
"You know damn well nobody would listen to me in this school, I am the bad kid, nobody wants me to be satisfied"
"Julian, don't call yourself the bad kid. You're not the bad kid."
Even if the statement Phil said was true, nobody would believe me. I am the bad kid in the eyes of so many teachers, students, and the principals. They most likely are counting down the days till graduation just so I could get out of their sight. Hell, who even knows if I end up graduating anyways. I've been suspended so many times and I have a tendency to forget to do my homework. My GPA isn't awful, it's a 3.1, but I always get D's or C's in math, and no matter what I do, it never raises.
"I'm gonna go shower" I told him, taking in a breath, not even acknowledging what he had said to me about not being the bad kid.
"See you later." Phil told me, heading back over to his makeshift porch, which was just a lawn chair that sat under some patio awning he bought off the internet and drilled above his front door. He even had a white rotating fan placed right in front of the lawn chair, connected to an extension cord so it could work from the far distance of his indoor outlets. Phil was innovative, I'll give him that.
I opened the door to my trailer house, and when I did the home phone was ringing on the stand. I looked over my shoulder towards my dad's bedroom door, which was closed, signaling that he was most likely sleeping.
I picked up the phone, the caller ID saying Saint John Mo... because my school's title was too long to show the entire name. I took in a nervous breath and answered it with a
"Hello?" Deeper than I normally would have.
"Hello, is this Julian's father, Mr. Ross?" A woman, most likely the front desk secretary, Mrs. Webber or the actual Principal, Mrs. Denton
"Yes" I lied, raising my hand to scratch the back of my sweaty neck.
"Hello Mr. Ross, this Mrs. Denton from Saint John Monroe III Catholic High School."
God, that was a mouthful, I can't believe people actually have to say that name, most of the students just call it SJM since we cannot be bothered with saying all of that... But, also shit! It was the principal. My teacher must’ve decided just to email her instead since the assistant principal wasn’t around today.
"I am calling to discuss an incident that happened between Julian and another student today." Mrs. Denton continued.
"Okay." I instructed, carrying the phone with me to my bedroom. I shut the door quietly, holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder as I started to unbutton my pants. I couldn't stand wearing my sweaty clothes anymore.
"Today in his 6th hour English class, Julian had bullied a girl to the point of tears, after ripping off her wig. Unfortunately, this student has cancer, and Julian has made her feel unwelcome at this school by teasing her in such a harmful way."
My eyebrows furrowed at the way the principal was explaining the situation. Of course I wouldn't deny anything I did, but it wasn't intentional that I took her wig off. I didn't even know that she has cancer to begin with.
"That is awful, I will have a conversation with him."
"We did have a conversation with the other student and her parents, they do not want Julian to be suspended, but he will have restricted hallway access for the next week, and after school detention for the week as well."
I accidentally let out a sigh of disappointment, it only meant that I had to walk home after school in the blazing 100 degree Arizona heat.
"I understand that you're upset, sir." Mrs. Denton confirmed, "but this is a good thing for Julian, he won't be missing anymore school. I hope to see some improvements in his behavior, and I will be having a conversation with him during the first period tomorrow. Thank you for your time Mr. Ross. Bye-bye."
"Bye" I huffed, hanging the phone up. It took everything in me to not pro-athlete throw the phone into my mirror, but I had some self restraints and brought it back to the phone holder in the kitchen before my dad accused me of losing it.
I pulled my shirt over my head, and went back into my room to throw it down hard against the floor. Maybe it was time to stop listening to everything Broden had to say.
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