No contact

They were seated at the cafeteria, Erica and Henry, but Alfie was missing. Missing from the middle, where he sat between Erica and Henry, with his legs crossed and his blonde hair covering a part of his face.

“Switched off,” Erica says as she drops the phone from her ear with a worried sigh. She has called him so many times that it would take a day to delete the entire call log. She was tapping her legs on the floor, with her brows twisted in a knot.

Henry dropped his phone on the table with a thud, like the phone was hot and would burn his palms. “He’s not responding to his texts either.” He didn’t say it as a joke this time. His voice didn’t carry the humorous wave it normally did.

“I really do hope he’s okay,” Erica said, looking at nothing in particular.

“We should check his room,” Henry said.

“Done that. Twice. His roommates said they haven’t seen him either.”

Later that day, it was found that Alfie had locked himself up in the dresser. It wasn’t till dawn that they found him there, and he wouldn’t open the door. They called the authorities, who broke the doorknob.

*******************************************************

ALFIE

The light in the room was dim, flowing in fettered, dissolved by the blinds and the curtains. I sat in a chair that felt too springy, in front of a man who was supposed to be my therapist, assigned to me by the school.

I had not said a word in the last two hours I’d been here. Not when he asked, “How are you doing, honey?” or when he told me I was safe. Or when he asked me to take in deep breaths, or when he whispered, “You deserve love, kindness, and peaceful existence. It is not your fault. None of it.” He said it in a convincing way, like I was supposed to believe it. Like I was taken to Riley’s house by a wicked fairy.

He would later dismiss me. “Selective mutism,” he diagnosed, and recommended to the school that I be given privacy. They didn’t call my guardians—who were my uncle and aunt—the therapist said it would only make things worse for my mental health. Especially when they found out the reason. I was grateful for that. I couldn’t imagine what they would say or how they would look at me if they ever saw that photo.

So I was given another room, where I would be allowed to stay in isolation, and would be required to meet with the therapist for a session every day. He placed his hands on my shoulders. “Remember, you don’t owe anyone any explanation. And you don’t need to say anything if you’re not ready.” I simply nodded. Then left.

I thought of Erica and Henry. I knew they would be so worried sick for me, but I didn’t know what to do, how to face them, how to explain or answer the numerous questions that they would have. I know they have seen it.

The image that was wickedly cropped, only showing me kneeling on the floor with a finger thrust into my open mouth. It was in every group, every school channel. It was the trending reaction sticker.

That image was so lewd, so shameful. It haunted me when I closed my eyes. I didn’t know how to face the world. If we could easily afford it, I would have wanted a transfer.

I didn’t know how much longer I could avoid everything, everybody, but I was willing to try, to see what the limits were.

*******************************************************

They were training at the rink—Riley, Liam, and Richard, the three of them. They always trained together, hung out together, and yes—bullied together.

Liam passed the puck to Riley with one swift motion. Riley watched the black plastic slide over the ice and slide right past him.

They all straightened their backs, looking at Riley with eyes wide open. Never has this happened. Ever! Riley pushed his stick out of his hands the same way Thor would summon his hammer, just that Riley was pushing it away from him. It slid on the ice, making a screeching sound through the quiet hall.

“What’s wrong?” Liam’s brows furrowed. He looked angry.

Richard turned. “Oh well—” and began to skate out of the rink. “—seems like I’m not the only tired one,” he said as he made his way out.

“Don’t you think we took the whole thing too far?” Riley said. He wasn’t exactly looking at anything, just his hands on his waist with beads of sweat on his forehead.

“What are you talking about?” Liam’s voice came sharper, like what Riley was saying irritated him. His brows furrowed deeper.

“I dunno, I just wanted to scare him. The entire sex thing and posting him…” He took a breath. “I wasn’t really down with it.”

Liam looked at him for a long second, the way you’d look at snow in the middle of summer. “And since when did you start to care?” he scoffed.

“I dunno, man—”

“Get over yourself.” Liam cut him off. “Gosh! Don’t kill the whole fun.” He waved him off, then he skated in one stride, picked up Riley’s stick, and placed it back in his hands. “Remember, you have a championship to bring home.” He gave him a slight nod.

Riley took the stick, holding it like a dead fish in his hands, before saying, “I should check up on him.”