He peeled the note off the door to add it to his collection. There was always one waiting for him, and he'd taken to collecting them like trading cards. He had a sizable menagerie inside his locker, with the dupes stuck on top of each other. However, he quickly realized his folly. Today's note had superglue on the back, ready to adhere to the first person who touched it.
He could hear giggling from a group of girls a few paces away, but rather than acknowledge them, he did his best to act like their little trap didn't bother him. He'd seen other students punished for lesser infractions, but Jaeson had learned long ago that it was useless for him to speak up. Since the accident, no one save his mother had taken his side for any reason, and it was better they didn't see him cry.
Then, as the warning bells rang, people scrambled to their respective classrooms to start the day. With no time to fix the problem, Jaeson quickly put his jacket away and hurried to homeroom; the note still stuck to his fingers. Then, Jaeson felt the telltale signs of another episode when he sat at his desk. He clutched his stomach as his innards began twisting themselves inside out and put his head down to avoid eye contact with anyone nearby.
It wasn't until he heard the click-clack of heels that he chanced looking up. "Good morning, everyone," said Ms. Marison pleasantly as she set her latte on her desk.
Catherine Marison was the youngest and newest teacher at Stafford Regional. She was brilliant and efficient, and she spoke with a smooth, sultry, yet commanding voice that politely asked for your attention. However, her body demanded attention before she had to say anything. Ms. Marison was a knockout. She had dark brown hair held up in a tight bun, big brown eyes, and delicate features. She was about the average woman's height but packed extreme curves that would make any social media starlet jealous. Though she did her best to downplay her charms in how she dressed, she could have been wearing a hazmat suit and still turned heads.
Jaeson could tell she was in a good mood from how she twirled around the front of the room, updating the information on the whiteboard. But then she made eye contact with him, and her mood shifted. Her cheeks reddened, and though she quickly averted her gaze, she couldn't hide her discomfort.
Jaeson had two daily class periods to bask in her beauty. Unfortunately, In the first week of school, Jaeson let his imagination get away from him and made a salacious sketch of her during her English Literature class. Naturally, he'd been found out. In an embarrassing reveal, Ms. Marison was forced to confiscate his sketch pad filled with over a dozen drawings of her, each more erotically charged than the last. Aside from a mild admonishment, she barely said anything about the incident or even written him up for it. But that didn't stop the story from spreading through Stafford Regional like a virus. His lapse in judgment had left their already perfunctory relationship strained and awkward. Jaeson's shame was as painful as any of his episodes, and while he yearned to apologize properly, he had yet to work up the courage.
The bell rang, and homeroom officially began. Jaeson sat alone in the corner and did his best not to draw attention. It was then that one of his worst nightmares was realized during the morning announcements over the school loudspeaker.
"Thank you, Serenity, for that riveting sports report. Go Dragons!" came Fiona's lovely voice through the speakers. "Next, don't forget that the anti-bullying club, No Bull, is accepting new members and donations. With your help, we can make our school a safe space for all. Finally, it looks like we only have two birthdays today. Jenny Rosewood and...Jaeson Everhart."
Predictably, the entire class looked at him like a cackle of hyenas, ready to pick off a sickly gazelle. Fiona might as well have painted a bullseye on his back and announced the start of hunting season.
Fiona continued, "Happy Birthday...to both of you, I guess." His classmates giggled, whispered conspiratorially, or grinned malevolently. "Well, that does it for your morning update. Remember, you can have a good day or a bad one; the choice is yours. Bye bye!"
Meanwhile, he struggled to breathe as the pain in his abdomen spread to his chest. He cursed himself for letting his birthday slip his mind. Historically, the day brought out the worst in people around him, seemingly encouraging the indifferent to join in the fun at his expense. Yet, he forgot, perhaps on purpose. Wishing he could crawl back to his attic, he flipped his hood over his head, folded his arms over the desk and hid, hoping they'd leave him alone.
After homeroom, Jaeson darted to a bathroom to remove the superglue from his fingers. As he ran his hand under the warm, soapy water, a troop of football players walked in, all wearing their purple and black varsity letter jackets and wolfish grins.
"Sup, Snowflake!" said Tony, one of the team captains and his worst tormenter.
Jaeson sighed, "Hello, Tony." Jaeson could only guess what would happen next but knew he wouldn't like it. Meanwhile, his pain was only getting worse.
However, Tony couldn't be happier. "I can't believe it's that time of the year already. Happy birthday, buddy!"
The insincerity was so thick it was practically suffocating. "Yeah, thanks," replied Jaeson as he mentally prepared himself.
"Oh, hey man, you okay? You look like you're gonna vom," he said, doing his best to sound concerned. A couple of his friends giggled amongst each other behind him. "What's the matter? Another tummy ache?" he asked condescendingly.
Most of the glue had come off, and Jaeson was ready to get out of there. As he dried his hands, he said, "Tony, can we just get this over with?"
Tony feigned indignation. "Aww, my dude, my guy. Look, I know we haven't always got along. But for real, we're just here to wish you a happy birthday. Right gang?"
One of the linemen, Thomas, counted down, "Three...two...one," the group began singing the happy birthday song in the loudest, most obnoxious way possible. Jaeson stood there awkwardly while they took their time, enunciating every shrill syllable.
When they finished, Tony clapped Jaeson on the shoulder and said, "Enjoy your day, bro!" Then, he and his crew strolled out of the bathroom, leaving Jaeson alone.
As soon as they were gone, Jaeson let out a sigh of relief even as his pain kept ramping. Then he winced as something sharp pierced his guts. He looked down, expecting Tony to have shivved him before he left. But it was all in his head. He gave himself a few minutes to calm down but couldn't. The pain was becoming unbearable. He waited until the warning bell sounded before grabbing his bag and heading to his first class.
However, as he exited the bathroom, a row of his classmates in a semi-circle awaited him. They yelled out, "Surprise!" Then, they let loose a volley of water balloons directly at him. Jaeson raised his hands to defend himself, but it was no use. Each balloon hit its mark and exploded in a deluge of white shaving foam.
The hall erupted in laughter. It seemed as though the entire school was there to witness the event. A multitude of camera flashes went off, and when Jaeson wiped his eyes, he could see dozens of phones recording him. Tony and his entourage were in the back, high-fiving each other. Outwardly, Jaeson made no expression. He barely moved. In moments like this, Jaeson remembered a piece of his father's advice. "Never let them see you cry." He just stood there, enduring their nasty jeers, and waited for it to end.
Suddenly, a high-pitched whistle silenced the crowd and sent them scattering like cockroaches. A man's deep, gravelly voice roared over the commotion, "Have you monkeys lost your damn minds? Get to class now!"
The voice belonged to the school's revered football coach, Mr. Veiss. He was an enormous man, built like a linebacker, with a well-groomed salt-and-pepper mustache and short hair. He never went anywhere without his trusty whistle.
He scanned Jaeson up and down and asked, "What the hell happened to you?"
Jaeson sighed. "It's my birthday," he said.
Mr. Veiss took a moment before he fully understood. "Ohhhh," he dragged out. "So, you're the one my boys are so entertained by." He stepped closer and brushed some of the foam off Jaeson's shoulder. "Well, that's gonna stain," he muttered. "Get in there and clean yourself up. I'll escort you to class."
"Thanks," was all Jaeson could say.