“Cold Hands, Warm Heart” by Louis Anton

He stepped into the classroom just as the late bell rang, rushing to his seat at the corner in the back. An older lady stepped in after him, closing the door behind her and glaring at the boy all the way to his seat. He paid no mind to her glare as he sat down, knowing that this was the usual expression on her face anyways, and anything otherwise would be true reason for concern. She was a short woman who took short strides, so that by the time she made it across the room to her desk, he had already settled in and was shuffling through his bag for his notebook. She stood at her post taking attendance as the class rushed through the “Do Now” on the board. She looked up every now and then to give an empty seat the occasional glare. He thought how odd it was of her to do this, as if she thought that the student would receive her glare upon his return. Regaining his focus, he quickly pulled out his notebook and was about to open it, when he noticed the words covering the cover of the notebook. They were written in white-out so that were rather distinguishable from the solid black cover. They were written so excessively enormous that they had to be squeezed together so that they could all fit.

The words caught him off guard, but he quickly recovered and opened the spiral notebook, hiding his embarrassment behind the apathetic mask that was so often a part of his visage. He flipped the pages until he reached an empty one near the back, dated it, and began copying the notes on the board. He was careful not to look at any of his classmates for fear that they had seen the words that were quietly eating him up, looking up from his notebook only to read the notes on the board, and making sure to look nowhere else. 

He copied her notes word for word, while she began checking for homework at the far side of the room, but when the time came to actually answer the question, he froze. His mind was stuck on those 3 words. “go die fag”. The words alone didn’t bother him. He had learned how to deal with bullying at a young age. What truly made them stick in his head was the author behind them, his brother. Although he was 2 years younger, his brother had a way with finding innovative new ways to hurt others in an attempt to make himself feel bigger and more masculine. And boy was he good at it.

“Wrong, wrong, wrong!! I’m not taking this, it’s a zero! Complete trash! Next time make sure it’s double spaced you- idiot!!” Her yells startled everyone in the room, but few dared look on for more than a few seconds. She was getting closer and he still hadn’t started writing his answer. But how could he when all he could think about was home? All he could think about was the fighting. All he could think about was the crying, the yelling, and the anger that had grown to consume his life at home. And the more he thought of home, the more frustrated he became, remembering scenes of the night before. As he thought of the events of the previous night and the argument between his father and himself, he inadvertently brought his hand to his eye and felt a tear trickle down the side of his face.