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all attention was on
Alan and Brent. A few students stopped to look, first stunned to see Alan Price
at the dance, next eager to see what the confrontation was about.
    Brent’s face started to turn red. A
single vein bulged out of his neck ready to pop through his skin.
    Alan didn’t remember the first fist
that hit him but he did feel the second, third and fourth as he regained
consciousness. Brent Carson was on top of him raining down blows to his head
and upper body. Alan did his best to shield his face but the blunt impact of
each blow was more than enough to penetrate whatever defense Alan could put
between him and his attacker.
    Soon Brent’s buddies joined in sending
kicks that collided with Alan’s ribs and legs. Laughs, shouts and screams could
be heard over the noise now. Looking back, Alan would remember that night as a
haze, except for the part that came next.
    The dance’s chaperones must have seen
or heard the commotion. In a few seconds, which seemed more like minutes to
Alan, Brent and his friends were backing away as Dr. Larson and a few other
adults made their way to Alan’s side.
    “Enough! Get off of him now!” Dr.
Larson’s voice rang out strong and firm even making the band stop in the middle
of a song.
    Alan was coughing, his face pressed
against the gymnasium’s cold wooden floor. His insides felt like a Spartan army
had trampled them. He struggled to sit up. As he gained a seated position he
looked up into Dr. Larson’s face and what seemed like the entire school.
    If it was possible, Alan’s heart
dropped even further. Dr. Larson was by his side with a few other adults, all
wearing the same expression Tony did. An expression that said, “Yes they were
sorry for him but most of all they wished he could be different.” In their eyes
Alan saw it all; pity, disappointment and the wish that he could be something more
than helpless.
    There was murmuring all around him but
one voice Alan caught through the crowd rung out the loudest in his ears. It
was Amber Jacobson. “I can’t believe I was going to let that zero take me out,
even if he does have a nice car. What a joke.”
    Alan was brought back to the present
by Dr. Larson as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Alan? Alan, can you
hear me? Are you all right? Do you need to go to the hospital?”
    Alan struggled to his feet. Looking
down on the tuxedo that was supposed to change everything. The expensive fabric
was ripped, covered in punch and his own blood. “No, I’m fine.”
    “Alan we should really get you checked
out. You’re bleeding. I think—“
    “I said I’m fine!” He hadn’t meant to
yell but when he did a hush covered the gathered crowed. In every direction
Alan looked he saw the same expression, pity.
    Alan had tried. He had done everything
now. He had hoped that he could overcome his depression. He had hoped so desperately
that he had done things that night that he never would have thought possible
before, and he had failed.
    Blood still coming from his lip and
pain oozing out of a dozen different locations across his body, Alan walked
toward the front entrance. A path parted for him as dance attendees cleared
away from him like embarrassment and humiliation were contagious.
    Alan reached the front entrance slamming
down on the metal bar that released him from the gymnasium and the nightmare he
just endured. It was cold. The wind had picked up and now threw gust after gust
at him reminding Alan of the blows he was subjected to only minutes before.
    What did you think was going to
happen? You’re an idiot for thinking that anything would change. This is your
life. This is never going to get better.
    Alan opened the car door, pressed the
ignition button and stomped on the gas. Pulling out of the school parking lot,
he could see Dr. Larson exiting the gymnasium. Her head was turning in every
direction searching for him. Better than anyone else she knew what he might do
next.
    During their counseling sessions