Big Stupid Bully

By: Dayse

<kevinsangel> jello

<rachel> kaleidoscope

<CJ> magnesium

<Dayse> I hate you.

<Dayse> I really do.

<CJ> lol

Joey Fatone hurried through the halls of St. Jude Brooklyn high school, his face buried in his open binder as he mouthed the words quietly to himself. Fuck, he should of studied instead of going to that party, now he was screwed for Scalarie's final.

"Magnesium's periodic symbol is MG, atomic number is 12, weight is 24.5...shit, shit, shit!" Joey got to his locker and quickly pulled it open, his eyes scanning over the page furiously. "Lithium...what the Hell is the weight for Lithium?"

Locker open, Joey threw in his backpack and checked his tie and uniform in the mirror before glancing at his watch again. Five minutes to class and he had to learn at least fifteen more elements of the periodic table. His ass was grass.

"Calcium...uh....Ca, 20...40.08...." Joey moaned and shook his head, slumped back against his locker door. Maybe failing wouldn't be so bad, it wasn't as if he had any big plans to go to college anyway and he HATED school, it wasn't his fault all his teachers made tests to trick him.

The sound of laughing coming from up the hall made Joey look up and he managed a weak smile as his best friend came towards him, his backpack swung over his shoulder and an easy grin on his face. "Hey, Fatone, what's shaking?"

"I'm about to fail chemistry," Joey said, holding up his binder. "I shouldn't of gone to that party with you last night."

Michael Longetii laughed and patted Joey roughly on the shoulder. "You know you had fun. Jello shooters, girls, loud music, food, girls, booze..."

"Girls," Joey snickered and blew out a loud sigh. "Yeah, okay, I'm glad I went. But still...This test is gonna kill me. Then my mom is gonna kill me. Then my mom is gonna tell my dad and my DAD is gonna kill me."

"That's a lot of killing. I'll come to your funeral though - make it into a REAL blast." A bell rang sounding for first period and Mike offered his best rendition of a consoling shrug. "Good luck, try to sit next to someone smart to cheat off of."

"Right. Then the teacher can kill me when I get caught, THEN the principal, then my mom, then my dad..."

Laughing, Mike quickly ran off down the hall towards his class, bumping past maroon coloured shoulders in the catholic school uniform that crowded around him. Joey sighed again and looked glumly down at his notes, it was time to face the music.

Trying to balance the binder in one hand and his bag lunch in the other, Joey didn't see the other group of boys that came towards him, their faces' contorted with cruel sneers as they approached. The tallest of the three knocked the binder out of his hand sending it crashing to the floor.

"Hey!" Joey protested and looked up to see who it was. He blanched. Oh shit. Shit, he didn't need this.

"Hey, choir boy," the dark haired teen taunted. "Aren't you late for class?"

Joey looked frantically up and down the halls for someone to intervene but found that they were empty, not even a hall monitor or an on-duty teacher could be seen. His back was against the locker, he tried not to let his fear show through but knew that it probably was anyway.

"I gotta go, I have a test," Joey said. He tried to nudge past him, but he was pushed back hard and fast, his shoulders impacted with steel and his teeth rattled. "Damn it, Steve, leave me the fuck alone!"

Steve laughed. His friends laughed and Joey felt a sinking in his gut.

"Come on, little bro, loosen up." Steve smiled, a smile that was a lot like Joey's smile and leaned in close to his younger brother. "And who would a thought an angel like you had such a mouth?" He squeezed Joey's face in between his hands, pinching the cheeks uncomfortably tight.

Not for the first time Joey wondered what he had ever done to his brother to make him hate him so damn much other than be born last. Or maybe that was enough.

One of Steve's friends leaned in from Joey's right, stuck his nose right in his face and stared in a dissecting manner. "I think the pussy's gonna cry. Figures. Worthless." A snort of disgust and a hand slapped him lightly on the head.

It hadn't been so bad before Joey joined Steve in high school, on his 'turf' as his brother so often referred to it. He had tried to stay out of his way but after a while his brother and his friends had just come looking for him, seeking him out with their fists and their words. Joey sank back against the locker, just wishing it to be over.

"It sickens me that you're my blood," Steve hissed, leaning in close. "It makes me want to puke. Why you're the fucking favorite is beyond me, you can't do SHIT except sing and dance like a damn FAIRY. Is that it, Joe? You a fag?" Steve's hand pressed against Joey's throat and he leaned in close. "It wouldn't surprise me, not one bit."

He let go and the back of Joey's head hit the locker hard enough to make him wince. Steve was standing away now, staring at him with something akin to disgust.

Joey tried to stop the tears, tried as hard as he could but they fell regardless and he could tell they were only making Steve madder, but still they fell and Joey didn't look away. "I hate you," he whispered. "Christ, I hate you."

The words or the tears but probably both made Steve smile again and he nodded quickly to his friends who took their cue like good little lap dogs and grabbed either one of Joey's arms. Joey struggled weakly, but he knew like they did that it was all in vain. His attempts to fight fell against merciless tormentors.

"You hate me, junior?" Steve stepped foreword again and gripped the back of his neck, forcing Joey to look up at him. "Then you're not gonna like this."

A fist - solid, hard, painful drove into his stomach like it had all the force of the world behind it and Joey felt his breath get sucked from his lungs and mouth in one painful blow. He choked and dropped, would of fallen had it not been for the hands that held him up for more.

"Steve..." he gasped, trying to get through to him, trying to get him to SEE. "Don't - "

"You are so pathetic," Steve said and his voice sounded so far away. His hand was frozen on the back of his neck and Joey braced himself as another fist connected with his gut. It just kept hurting more and he didn't know if it would ever stop even long after Steve was gone.

Steve's grabbed a handful of Joey's hair and he threw the younger man back against the locker, making the world spin, making things go black for just the barest of moments. "I'm gonna do what dad doesn't have the balls to," Steve hissed. "I'm gonna make you a man, Joe, and you're gonna forget all that queer singing shit."

Tasting blood in his mouth Joey finally went still, no longer struggling, no longer feeling any fight in him. Go ahead, Steve, he thought numbly. Go ahead and hit me, beat me, insult me. Kill me. Go right the fuck ahead.

It seemed to be what Steve had been waiting for, he looked deep into Joey's eyes before he backed off, nodded to his friends who let Joey go and watched as he slid down the locker and onto the ground. Steve flexed his bruised knuckles and shook out his fist. "When are you gonna give it up?" he asked, studying his fist. "When are you just gonna GIVE it UP?"

Say 'you win' and he'll stop. Say 'i give up' and he'll never do it again, it'll mesh with whatever the hell Steve thinks a 'real man' is. Joey coughed blood onto the cold floor, his stomach hurt and in front of his eyes a kaleidoscope of colours danced and swirled. "Never," he said. "Never, you bastard. I'm gonna break away with my music. Break away from you."

"You call that shit you do music?" Steve snorted. His foot reeled back, landed in Joey's chest and Joey fell with a gasp onto his back. "Obviously, I didn't get my point across to you - "

"You're jealous," Joey said.

Steve stopped. "What? What did you fucking say?"

"You're jealous." Joey smiled and there was blood on his teeth. But it felt damn good to see the shock in Steve's eyes, see the nervousness THERE. "You're jealous 'cause I can do something you can't and that I can do it better than you, than dad, than your faggot friends."

And God, but Joey felt it. Felt some line being crossed in his mind, felt a brick wall come crashing down. His body hurt, everything hurt, and still things just kept crumbling and falling and washing away like some foulness finally rid of. He held his breath as Steve loomed over him - huge and dark but suddenly, strangely - no longer so intimidating.

"You little prick..." Steve muttered and his fists re-clenched, his face was red with something that could only be a fury that came with being caught. "You little bastard..."

Suddenly Joey knew he had to get away, had to run from this force that was suddenly oblivious to his soul but in danger of destroying everything else. He braced himself against the floor, planted his hands, and kicked out.

A satisfying sound of pain resulted and Steve fell back against the two others, giving Joey just enough time to get up and run for the door - locker, bag, and test forgotten. He was half-afraid he'd be chased but he heard Steve talking behind him.

"Let him go," he panted. "He has to come home sometime."

The double glass doors of the high school flew open under Joey's frantic push and he was soon outside in a day that was too bright for his teary eyes and he stumbled along the sidewalk, his legs carrying him to somewhere his mind wasn't directing, with his ribs hurting madly.

He didn't know how long he walked but knew that when he finally did stop he wasn't sure where he was. He sat down on a green bench with a banner across the back and slumped his face into his hands.

His brother. His own goddamn brother.

Joey wiped at his tears angrily, using his sleeve to dry them away. Well, fuck Steve, he thought, but even the voice in his head trembled. Who needs a brother? He had friends, he had parents, he had a sister. Who cares?

He sat for a while, thinking about nothing and random things. His music, his dad, his test. Joey groaned inwardly - the test. Fuck.

Some time among his thinking and his stream of tears a car pulled up near the curb and someone got out to sit next to him. A hand rested on his shoulder and Joey jerked back in surprise, looked up to see concerned brown eyes staring at him.

"Hey, you okay?"

Joey sniffed and moved away. "I'm fine."

"Right. I'm fine, too, but I don't go crying on park benches. I like my fine better."

Joey couldn't help his smile and he wiped his face again. "I'm okay, really. Just a bad day." He paused. "You didn't have to stop."

The stranger shrugged. "Hey, call it my good deed for the day. Stopping to console a crying teenager on the side of the rode." His smile was friendly and Joey relaxed. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Joey Fatone," Joey said, extending his hand.

He shook it, smiled. "Nice to meet ya, Joey. I'm Chris Kirkpatrick." 

The End

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