I lift the toilet seat with the toes of my sneakers and I immediately regret it after seeing globs of piss hanging under the seat. I unzip my pants and the sound of piss hitting water echoes in the empty washroom. I scan the walls of the toilet stall, covered in graffiti, saying  some of the most hideous, racist and sexist shit I've ever read, like the anonymous tweets of online trolls.

Black Lives Don't Matter

Fuck all bitches

Muslims Out

Anonymity, like the internet, gives cowards the courage to say anything. They say if you want someone to tell the truth, give them a mask. I say, give them a black marker and a toilet stall. 

I notice a line of graffiti written with golden marker between "die fags" and "KKK". It reads:

Don't Believe His Lies

I hear the doors of the washroom open and two sets of voices walk in.

"He fucked her in the ass right there on the bridge," says a raspy voice.

"No way," says a squeaky voice.

"Roberta was crying in English class," says raspy.

Then the sound of two sets of piss hitting porcelain echoes off all the tiled walls.

"Simon is the man," says squeaky.

"I sat with him in algebra last symester. Dude is funny as fuck," says raspy.

I flush and leave the stall. I see Ricky Morrison and a brown guy I don't know pissing in the urinals. They don't turn to look at me as I wet my hands in one of the sinks. Looking up, I see my reflection in a cracked mirror, my long bangs concealing the sides of my eyes. Glancing side to side, I notice all the mirrors are cracked. Funny, I never noticed that before.

I snatch the big headphones hanging from my neck and slide them over my ears, muting all sounds except for David Bowie. Next on my playlist is Leonard Cohen, then Nick Drake, then Prince, then a bunch of other dead artists I'm obsessed with. Their voices still living.

At my locker now, rifling through my text books, I notice Sandra and Becca talking by the lockers behind me. I slide my headphones down and try to eavesdrop on them.

"No fucking way," says Sandra, thumbing her padlock.

"I'm telling you," says Becca, checking her eyebrows with the front facing camera of her phone. "I'm meeting him after school."

"Where?" Sandra swings her locker door open.

"Rowntree."

"That's where he stood Roberta up," Sandra slams her locker shut.

"Roberta's a basic bitch," says Becca, her voice trailing off as she struts away with Sandra.

I smile.

Walking out of Entrance E and into the afternoon sunlight, I turn the corner and pass a group of Latino thugs. I normally lower my head when passing them, but today, I just stare at them. I lock eyes with the tallest one and nod my head. He nods back.

Maddox, Bart and Tristan are in their bitch circle again, smoking by the dumpsters.

"I grabbed him by his fucking shirt and I swear, he shit himself, literally," boasts Tristan, and I immediately want to walk away, but I guess out of habit, I choose a spot in the circle and stand there with my thumbs hooked onto the straps of my backpack.

"That's what the kid gets man. Mad dogging you like that," says Maddox.

"Who you guys talking about?" I say.

"Dana Iwamura," says Bart.

"Dana Iwamura? He's like five feet tall. Leave the kid alone," I say.

"Says the pussy," Tristan smirks. Bart laughs.

"What did you say?" I squint at Tristan. I can feel my pulse going.

Tristan looks a little shocked. "Take it easy, I'm just telling a story."

Maddox puts his hand on my shoulder, "Yea, man. You okay?"

I turn my head, grinding my teeth.

"Yea dude, you on your period or something?" Tristan says.

I snap.

I get into his face and he takes a step back.

I push him. He drops his phone but doesn't pick it up. 

Tristan looks to Maddox and Bart, I guess for assurance, but they're not giving it.

The vein in my forehead throbs. I can feel the muscles working on the sides of my head. My fists curl into balls and something is making me breathe heavier and heavier. Something is causing my chest to heave up and down and I'm not sure what it is. Something has come over me. Or someone.

Hashtag King Kong ain't got nothing on me.

Tristan looks confused, but then I realize, he's just scared. Without a word, I turn and stride away. Some random kids are looking at me. They saw everything. They're whispering to each other. If they never noticed me before, they certainly notice me now.