Velcro

The normally cheery room of Felix’s had been reduced to a dull light in the corner, the sky blue paint on the walls that chipped looked too faded for his taste. Sitting on a quilt of various blues and reds Felix sat, running a hand through his blonde hair that kept its space from any type of brush. A large calendar that hung on his wall had the X’s all the way to Wednesday. The corners drooped down and the bottom was ripped in one corner.

  “Does this look sad, or what? I had you going there, didn’t I?”    

  Felix stood up, brushing off pretzel crumbs from his lime-green sweatshirt with the ties hung loosely around his shoulders.

  “No, I’m not depressed. Geez. . .”

  He tiptoed to the white door of his room that was stained with colored markers of the purple variety. He heard the clicking and thumping of people downstairs, and decided he didn’t want to go down there with his annoying sister. She wasn’t home, but Felix didn’t know that. He did know that his little twin brothers were at a friend’s house.

  “This is my room.”

  Felix laughed slightly, gesturing at the heap of dirty clothes in the corner of his room, then turning to the legos strewn across the floor and the stuffed animals that bulged out of his drawer.

  “I know, it’s not pretty to look at, but it’s home. . .”

  Felix finally decided he needed to go outside and feel the wind on his face again. He lived for that feeling of outside and the sky in his large yard.

  Opening the door just a shy, he lumbered down the stairs and nudged the baby safety gate aside.

  “Hi Griffen!” Felix shouted, rubbing the small dog behind it’s ears as it launched itself into his shirt. Felix closed his eyes and smiled as he heard his dog’s nails clip down the hallway.

  “Did I ever tell you how much I love the Italians? Because. . .I really love Italy. . .”

  Sliding down the wooden hallway on sock feet and striking a rock star pose, Felix entered the kitchen and swung the door open.

  “What are we having for dinner m-”

  Flinching as the door shut with a loud bang, Felix sighed and held a hand to his temple. “Sorry, mom.”

  “No harm done, Fel.” His mother smiled over a bowl of spaghetti. Felix eyed the pasta for a long time. “Felix, the spaghetti isn’t going to run away. . .” His mother trailed off, chuckling at her son’s love of food.

  “Earth to Felix?”

  Felix snapped to attention as his mother’s pale hands clapped in front of his cobalt eyes.

  “Felix, set the dinner table for me?” His mother asked as she spread pepper into a crock pot set in steel, stirring with the other hand.

  “Sure mom.”  Felix replied without hesitation, running over to the woven boxes stored under the table and flipping them open. Orange with a white tree design on them, the plates balanced on Felix’s teetering hands. “Where’s Colbie?” he asked, tossing a plate down on the table.

  Her mother stopped stirring and shoved the metal pot over a black stovetop. “She’s at her chorus classes.”

  “She’s always at her classes. . .” Felix mumbled quietly, placing metal forks next to each plate.

  Her mother smiled a bit, eying the plastic with a curious eye and said nothing.

  “Tmhpis thgh beurghh hmrgh!”

  Felix’s mother blinked, her fork midway between her mouth. “W-what?”

  Wiping spaghetti sauce of his chin in a grandeur fashion, Felix threw his napkin halfway down the table.

  “I said, THIS IS THE BEST EVER!” he shouted, dancing on his chair.

  “I’m. . .glad you like it.” She murmured exasperatedly as she ate another mouthful of pasta.

  “Pure Italian bliss.” Felix said, his hands making a ‘perfect’ sign as he blew his mother a kiss. “My compliments to our wonderful chef.” He called in a bad accent.

  “Thank you, Felix.”

  “If you haven’t tried my mother’s cooking. . .then. . . that’s very sad.”

  “This is Carol. She-I mean he. . .you know, I don’t know. Let’s call it unisex. . .”

  Felix admired the roughed up Webkinz that fit squarely in his hand. It’s fur was roughed and tangled, one of it’s eyes hung from a thread.

  “Dirty old thing. . .”

  Sighing, Felix placed the stuffed toy at the foot of his bed and climbed under the covers, eying the chandelier above his head aglow dimly.

  “This used to be my sister’s room. She’s in my room now. We switch around a lot. It’s just something we do, I guess.”

  “Felix, lights out.”

  “I could go to school like this.”

  Felix eyed his purple boxers.

  “School uniform, much, Felix?” he laughed to himself as he pulled a pair of jeans out of his closet.

  Down the wooden steps Felix flew, pulling on his blue shirt portraying a dancing cupcake on it as he ran. “I’m not late, right?” He shouted as he slid into the kitchen, tripping over his feet and falling.

  “No, Felix. You have an entire hour to spend.” His mother said without looking up from her paper.

  “Oh.”

  Felix’s shoulders relaxed as he made his way into the living room and slunk on it’s beige carpet. In a swift move Felix tossed a Wii remote in the air and caught it one hand, the other occupied in turning the console on and was sucked into the game.

 

  “Already?!”

  Felix looked at the clock, noticing he had five minutes to eat and get ready. “MOM WHY DIDN’T YOU WARN ME!”  Felix yelled as he scampered into the kitchen and threw a poptart into the aluminum microwave.

  “I did. Several times, Felix.” His mother sighed, wrapping up a peanut butter sandwich in tinfoil and shoving it into Felix’s backpack.

  Felix grumbled in protest as he threw a black North Face on his back, grabbing his poptart from the microwave and sinking his teeth into it’s flaky crust before shooting out the door.

  “Felix!” he heard his mother call, but he ignored her as he pelted to his bus stop. He could see it’s shiny orange-yellow hood moving ever closer.  

  “Wait!” His mother yelled, waving his leopard print backpack in the air.

  Felix hung his head as he entered the bus, wincing as his only means of escape that was the sliding glass door shut. He traversed the cold grey steps, a frigid feel sinking into his shoes.

  Felix looked around for a place to sit, but found every seat occupied with chatting students. Felix found himself sitting next to a boy in his class. He recognized him but was too wrapped up in his own problems to bother tracing his name. The wind of an open window blew on his arms and goosebumps rose on the pale flesh. Felix shuddered. ‘Geez, is this what it feels like to be in a refrigerator?’

  Felix closed his eyes and tried to wonder what the teacher would do to him when he showed up in his classrooms bagless. He imagined himself explaining to the teachers that he had forgotten his entire backpack and the papers within it.

  “I’m sorry. The bus came early, I wasn’t prepared an-”

  Suddenly, without warning the teacher’s skin erupts in black scales like the night, her friendly blue eyes now glowing coal red. Her claws extend as she screeches, “YOU FORGOT YOUR HOMEWORK!?” And she lunges at him with-

  “Hey?”

  Felix blinked, watching the boy’s hand wave in front of his face. “Hi.” he answered slowly.

  “You’re not from around here, right?” the boy asks, shuddering in the cold breeze.

  “. . .Yes, I am. I’ve lived in this here town my entire life,” Felix replied confusedly in a twangy country accent, “I’m in some of your classes, I think.”

  The boy blinked. “That’s not what I meant. I remember you. Get out of my seat.” His eyes are venomous, c
old, calculating. Felix could see his teeth baring, starting to draw closer as he opens his mouth, ready to chomp his ear off when Felix goes flying into the bus row.

  Felix can hear a few bursts of restrained laughter from around the bus as he struggles to his feet, staring at the red-haired boy who snorts with laughter. Felix still feels the boy’s hands shoving his back.

  “Get in a seat.”

  His blonde hair plastered to his head with sweat, Felix whirled around to see his bus driver’s aged reflexion glaring at him through a stained mirror.

  “Get in a seat.” she repeated, her eyes lowering in annoyance. Felix suddenly feels very, very small.

  “S-sorry ma’am.” Felix stammered, beginning to climb back into the seat he was originally in. Felix sat on sneakers.

  “This seat is taken.” The boy sneered, his legs extended and his arms behind his head.

  “Please.” Felix begged, trying to move the boy’s unbudging cyan Nikes.

  “Get into a seat!” The bus driver roared, yanking on the brake and letting the bus squeal to a stop.

  Felix looked back at the smug, grinning boy as he feels painful stares needling into his body. “T-there are no seats. . .” Felix stuttered, staring in fear as the bus driver got out of her seat.

  Felix thought of the bus driver’s claw’s poking into his sides as he spent the rest of his bus ride sitting on the bus driver’s lap, trying not to feel the absence of his backpack weight on his shoulders. He tried not to cry, but tears were brimming at his eyes. Felix looked back at all the other kids snickering at him and giving sly grins.

  “It was humiliating enough I don’t have a bag. . . but this?” Felix thought, shuddering as the bus drivers nails dug harder into his sides and her coffee breath found its way to his nose.

 

  “Eriksonn, Felix?”

  “Pre. . .sent.” Felix answered faintly, staring down at his desk with defacement written all over it, most of it being his own artwork, and trying to act like nothing was wrong.

  As the teacher went down the list of names, Felix recognized the boy as Corey Abrams standing up with a snarl on his face as he simpered at Felix, before the teacher began to start the lesson.

  “Homework, everyone?”

  “Right here, Ms. Larson” the class chorused, all but Felix holding up sheets of arithmetic.

  “Felix, do you have the homework?”

  Felix stared down at his desk again. “No Ms. Larson.” Felix answered tacitly.

  The teacher gave him a queer look. “Why is that, Felix?”

  “Because. . .I forgot. . .my backpack.” Felix whispered, rubbing his wrists for something to do other than look at his teacher, “Ms. Larson.” he finished inaudibly, waiting for the death blow.

  “That’s quite alright, Felix. I know you always try.” The teacher said kindly, glancing at Felix’s artwork with a nod of approval before ruffling his hair. “Just don’t do it again.”

  Felix’s tense muscles relaxing with relief from the pain he expected from Ms. Larson’s teeth biting into his neck.

  “Thank you!” he cried out, lifting his hands up to the ceiling.

  Ms. Larson raised her eyebrows in silent laughter as she returned to her lesson.

  “Teacher’s pet.”

  Felix rubbed his arm from the collision, while walking out of the class, with a different brown haired boy, who had green streaks running down his face in a feather pattern,  and a ripped, black denim t-shirt.

  “In all of my years, of which there are eleven, I have never seen such a delinquent in a fourth grader.”

  “Sixth grade, you twit!”

  “Sorry, I just thought that you got held back a few years before, you know? You’re kinda supporting the ‘rapper nation’ deal thing.” Felix shrugged, opening his locker with three pushes to the number nine. Grabbing some of his emergency fund cash for his lunch, Felix turned to see the boy again.

  “Well, he-” Felix began before he was pushed against the locker. “You. . .don’t seem to be in a friendly mood. I’ll just be. . . uh. . .” Felix looked for an exit and saw the art room. “I’ll be going.” he sputtered, tugging at his shirt collar.

  The boy’s glare hardened and his fists clenched tighter against the fabric of Felix’s shirt.

  “Say delinquent one more time.” the boy murmured dangerously. By now, people were stopping to look and a crowd had gathered.

  Felix blinked in surprise as they began to chant.

  ‘Fight, fight, fight!’

  “Delinquent.” Felix finally said defiantly, closing his eyes as people screamed.

  Felix keeled over as the boy’s fist connected with his gut and fell to the linen floor. Spots swam in his eyes as he tried to focus.

  “How d’ya like that?!” The boy spat.

  “Try. . .me.” Felix said weakly, hanging onto his locker handle for support.

  Arching his fist back, the boy readied his punch when he felt hands on his shoulders.

  “Lay off him!”

  Felix’s eyes clenched tighter, his heart skipping a beat in recognition. “Th. . .eo.”

  An red haired girl ran around the circle of people. “Stop!” She cried, a few tears trickling from her eyelids. “STOP!” a teacher echoed, barreling down the steps nearby.

  The crowd scattered like bowling pins as Ms. Larson made her way towards Felix.

  Pulling his black hood over his face and giving a menacing look to Felix, the boy left the scene.

  “Felix? Felix, it’s gonna be okay. . .” the girl trailed off. “Felix, answer me. Felix?!”

  “Theodora. . .I’m ok-okay.” Felix murmured, getting to his feet and hissing as his side complained violently.

  “Come with me, Felix. We’re taking you to the nurse now.”

  “Sto-op Ms.-Stop!” Felix yelled, wrenching his hand away from the teacher’s hands.

  “I. . .don’t need your h-hel. . .p.”

  With that, Felix turned on his heel and ran for the art room.

 

  “See, this is why public schools suck, you know, with all the ‘Rah, I’m gonna keel you for no reason whatsoever’ and the ‘Hey everyone, just make Felix’s life heck for this one day’.”

  Felix listened to the faint drip-dropping of water pipes from somewhere in the corner, head craned up against a cool brick wall with cement below his huddled feet.

  “Mom doesn’t know about any of this. . .”

  Felix sighed, lifting up his shirt to reveal various bruises on his sides and body.

  “Typical life. It’s Wednesday, you think you've gotten away from it all and it just. . .smushes you into grape jelly. But i’m not grape jelly yet. I’m like. . .part liquid-part plum? Is that what they use?”

  Shrugging his shoulders, Felix looked to a window outside where muted construction chaos unfolded outside, feeling numb.

  “You know what? I’m probably going to get called to the principal’s office because someone decided to make my life worse. To a lot of teachers, all boys are that sporty fighting type. I mean, sporty is good, but fighting is just dumb. I don’t want to be a raging bull that kills anything red.  But, to be truthful, most boys my age are that way. I’m nothing like that. . .’  Felix thought, fixing his eyes on a stray piece of mortar and staring at it intensely. A few kids called to each other from down the hallway, and Felix scrunched himself into a ball. Not that he would be seen.

  “Should I say something to Mom? She’ll probably call the school and make a whole mess of things. Maybe I should just. . . wait.” Felix sighed, keeping himself slouched out of view. “I’ve done it before. Always waiting.” he chided. He didn’t want to see anyone. Especially his mom. What would she say? He knew she’d be furious with him. He also didn’t want to see his teacher.

  “Colbie. . .” he thought, feeling twangs of humiliation picking at his heartstrings.

  ‘What will happen if Colb
ie finds out I got in a fight?!’ Felix asked himself. He knew she’d be extremely disappointed, maybe even teased for having himself as her brother.

  “What horrible fate lies ahead for me?” Felix thought poetically, groaning. He hung his head, watching the floor’s patterns attentively. He just sat, feeling so tiny, a tiny dot in the universe. Felix closed his eyes, and let his mind wander away somewhere far and distant. Away from all his trouble and misery. And hopefully, not nightmarish. Hopefully God would shed some light upon him, and let him do what he chooses in a beautifully lucid dream.

  Felix shut the door closed as quietly as he could, wincing as the lock snapped into place. He shuffled to the kitchen where he found his backpack and sighed. “How does one backpack ruin an entire day?” Felix thought aloud, wiping off some sweat from running the four blocks that were between the school and his house.

  “Felix?”

  “H-hey Colbie!” Felix shouted to where the computer room was. She’d be writing her stories over there.

  “Felix, what are you doing home so early?” his sick sister called, her voice dripping with suspicion.  Felix remembered, she had stayed home because she was sick with a cold. Their mom didn’t want anyone in school around Colbie to also get a cold, so she just sat and watched television all day.

  “Uh. . .” Felix blinked and watched his feet shuffle in confusion, “It was a half-day, Col.” he explained, congratulating himself for his quick thinking.

  He heard his sister jump down the steps and saw a swish of her blonde hair. “Hey you.” Felix murmured, fixing a fake smile on his face as he heard her footsteps.                    

  “Hey yourself.” Colbie grinned, fixating her hot pink glasses on her nose and enveloping Felix in a warm hug.

  Felix yelped as she squeezed his sides lightly.

  Colbie’s eyes went wide as she stepped out of the hug. “Felix. . .” she began, waiting for Felix to answer her unspoken question.

  Felix closed his eyes and held his hands behind his back.

  “Felix, why are you home so early.” Colbie asked again, putting her hands on his shoulders and locking her eyes with his.

  “I know if I went to school, we wouldn’t have a half day. I didn’t hear anything about the elementary school either. But, that’s kinda hard because our brothers are having a three-day sleepover.”