Right This Wrong for Good

Pay attention, friends, 'cause this is where my life really changed!

A few days later, when my second-period class ended, I trudged to my locker to pretend I gave a shit about my next class. Beats wandering around the halls pretending to be doing something.

I'd gotten so desperate that I'd started flipping through random textbooks I'd never opened when I heard someone shout "stupid bitch." I quickly turned around, almost smiling as I prepared to watch a petty fight between two random dumbasses until I realized it was Tiny Dick Ty. And...wait...an ugly pink wig, a fugly outfit... Wait, Hera? My Hera? My heart started to pound, all I could think about was bashing his fucking face in. I'd be doing him a favor, really; God knows he needed a facelift.

I tried taking deep breaths, remembering what Hera'd told me about toxic masculinity and being immature or whatever, but all that flew out the window when I saw him shove her into a locker after she shouted something back.

Oh, hell no.

"Hey, jackass!" I yelled, shoving him backward. "What the fuck do you think, you're doing?"

Ty chuckled, rising to his feet. "What, coming to your little bitch's defense, huh?" He looked back at Hera. "See? Even your own boyfriend thinks you're too weak to defend yourself!" He chuckled as she dusted herself off.

I could feel my face begin to heat up.

"Hey, dickweed—"

"I got this," I said to Hera before she could finish her sentence, getting between them. I ignored her protests and continued.

"I'm warning you, Ty," I seethed, "leave Hera alone, or I'll give you the nose job of a lifetime."

The dumbass chuckled, looking around.

"I'm not scared of some pussy who cosplays for fun." He said, getting in my face. I ignored the misogynistic part of that threat and jumped on top of him, lifting his shirt on the way down.

"Ay, hold up, are you gay now—"

"No!" I exclaimed before making sure no one heard that. I got closer to his face. "Do that again and I'll show everyone that little tattoo you've got on your torso, bro."

His face immediately fell. Yep, I hit him where it hurt–his Strawberry Shortcake tattoo he was a little too proud of. He pushed me off of himself and stood, shaking his head.

"Leave her out of this!" he whispered. "And fuck off." He glared at me as he walked away, leaving the uninformed crowd confused. I ignored the no-life morons and looked around to find Hera, but she was out of sight. I whipped out my phone and dialed, only getting an answer on the final ring.

"What?" Her voice was flat, which made my heart sink.

"Hey... where'd you go? You missed everything! It was fucking epic! Have I told you about his tattoo yet?"

There was a tense silence before she spoke. "Doesn't matter. Anyway, I'm busy–"

"Wait, what's wrong? Where are you?" I pressed, a pit forming in my stomach.

"I'm not telling you—"

Suddenly, a toilet flushed in the background. "Dammit, Sally! Couldn't you have waited?" she shouted.

"Ha, you're in the bathroom! See ya soon!" I exclaimed before sprinting toward the girls' bathroom, definitely getting some sideways glances.

I waited as she stormed out with a red face, huffing past me.

"Babe...? What's wrong?"

She ignored me and kept walking. "Come on, you can't ignore me forever~" I sang, catching up to her. "Hera-"

"Fine!" She snapped, turning toward me as her hair nearly slapped me in the face. "Hold on, let me do that again." She whipped her hair toward me, this time slapping me across the face. How nice.

"What was that for? What if you have dandruff or lice?" I grimaced.

"Dramatic effect. And I don't have lice, asshole!" She thwacked me with her backpack (which was very hefty, in true nerd fashion) before shaking her head.

"That's not a no to that dandruff—"

"Shut up! God, that's your problem! You just don't know when to stop!" She sighed, walking toward the door.

I frowned in confusion. "Huh? You mean what happened back there?" I asked. "I was defending my girlfriend! What's wrong with that?"

"I had it under control, Jason!" she spat. "It's like you think I'm a weak child or something! I'm fine without your shitty protection. Hell, I have more muscle definition than you!"

That caused me to look at my beautifully sculpted biceps.

"Hey! I'll have you know I was crafted by the Gods!" I countered.

"The gods?" Hera repeated. "Really?! Then they might need their status revoked cuz they failed miserably on you."

"Whatever... The point is if I hadn't been there, you would have been—"

"Oh, shut the fuck up!" she yelled, cutting me off. "You are so damn immature! I should've known that from the start, Jason Anthony Davis! Now get the hell away from me and grow up!"

And with that, she stormed off again, leaving me dumbstruck.

Damn it all! God-damn it all to hell! Shit! Fuck! No! Ugh! I hate to admit it, but Hera was right... What the hell have I done? Ugh.

***

Ah, Saturday. What a nice day to drown in guilt, eh? Y'know, television off and everything, counting lines in the ceiling. All I could think about was what Hera said. She saw me as immature. Me. Immature. Could you imagine that? In what world?

Either way, I had to do something or I'd lose the girl I literally just got. Was it an omen? Were we doomed to fail? I mean, sure, our starting point was a bit... unconventional, but come on, is it that bad? Ugh!

Eh, I'm a genius, I'd figure it out. I always did.

A few minutes later, Jacqueline barged into my room.

"Jason," she said, "mom told me to check on your dumbass! I dunno why she couldn't walk herself up here, I was busy!"

"Busy doing what? Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize being a bitch was a full-time job!" I shouted through the door.

"What crawled up your ass? You're never in your room for this long, and your insults are usually better..." She opened the door, frowning as soon as the smell of manliness hit her in the nose.

"Hera broke it off with me again, because she said I was immature!"

"Well, what did you expect?" she taunted.

"Jac, if you're not gonna help, take your happy ass back downstairs," I countered. "I don't need your bullshit today."

"Jason, get down here and get this dinner!" Mom yelled. "It's getting cold and I didn't bust my ass on this green bean casserole for nothing!"

I sighed, slinking down the stairs, not wanting to test her today. She's even pissier on her Zumba days.

Basically, after I told her about everything that happened with Ty and the fiasco with Hera, that's when the rage explosion began.

"You lost Hera, didn't you?" she asked calmly.

"It's not like I actually lost her, Mom," I answered. "She told me to grow up and just left without another word."

Now she was more pissier. "You swore that you wouldn't lose her to some stupid immature shit!" she countered. "You fucking SWORE!"

I could feel my face begin to burn. Mom's not being fair. It's not like I actually hurt Ty to get him off of Hera.

"I was doing all I could to protect Hera!" I defended, trying to get her off my back. "Is that so wrong?!"

But that only made it worse than it already was...

"GOD DAMMIT!" she screamed, frightening everyone at the table, myself included. "That's your motherfucking problem! You just don't know when to stay out of shit like that!"

Now I'm red with fury. "Like I said, I was trying to—"

"This is so fucking TYPICAL, Jason Davis, Jr!" she interrupted. "You always fuck up, then I'M the one who has to LECTURE you about everything!"

And that's exactly what she did; she gave me one of her long lectures about being a good person and blah blah blah.

"She's a smart girl for leaving you, honestly!"

I heaved a heavy sigh as another super hot wave of guilt washed over me. "Great, now I feel even shittier. Thanks for the pep talk, Mom," I whined.

The demon only chuckled.

***

I just lay there on my bed, sulking. Hera hates me. My mom just drilled me. And if I didn't do anything about it, I would lose Hera for good.

What's next, I get hit by a train?

Later, I decided to text Hera and apologize to her yet again.

My hands were beginning to get shaky. What if I got ghosted?

I texted:

Hera, can you please text me back?

I want to apologize for that fiasco on Thursday.

A few minutes later, I heard my phone vibrate.

Dope! Hera had texted me back! That means we're not officially over!

The text read:

The fuck do you want?🖕

In an instant, I texted back:

I just want to say that I'm sorry.

My mom just lectured me on it.

I know I shouldn't have done what I did.

Don't leave me, lol.

Hera texted back:

It took your mom to tell you that?

What are you, 5?

And lol? Really? Fuck off.

Oof...

Nonetheless, I texted:

Come on! I'm the Bakugou to your Deku!

Now do you get it? I'm in pain, girl! *skull emoji*

I anxiously waited for her to text me back with her answer.

About five minutes later, she texted:

What do you have, a fucking Motorola?

Just use the emoji, idiot.

And stop with the stupid analogies.

I'm more like Momo, and you're Mineta. Asshole.

Ouch with a capital O! My ego hurt too much for me to even give a response.

***

"UUUUGH! I don't know what to do!" I shouted. "My life is over. She won't even watch my Free Real Estate memes about IzuOcha!"

"There are people dying, Jason," Jac said, shoving me out of the way of the sink.

I scoffed. "Sure, but are they being left on read? That's like one hundred times worse!" I whined.

"Seek therapy." She said, flicking my forehead and running. I decided not to chase her, because something clicked in my brain. Therapy. That's like... easy, right? Just talk to people and you're good. Maybe that'll prove to Hera that I'm serious!

Wow, Jac finally came up with something useful. Maybe miracles really do happen.

After school, I decided to let Mom know about it.

"MOM!" I shouted as I got back from an uneventful day.

She ignored me and continued drinking her coffee.

"I think I wanna get therapy."

She choked on her coffee.

"Therapy? Is this because of that girl? Do you listen to anything I say? Geez." Then, she had another thought about this. "Wait... on the other hand, you'd be in the house less... It's a great idea!" She smiled, patting my shoulder before walking away.

Way to help, Mom. Way to fucking help...

***

Once I arrived at my first therapy session, I noticed that some of the folks who were already there were also high school-aged, no younger than 15.

Well, I guess I'm not the only high schooler with issues here.

"So, you're Jason Davis?" asked our therapy teacher, Ms. Carlson.

"Yes, I am," I answered with a sigh.

"What is it that landed you here?"

All the other therapy patients gave me weird stares, waiting for my answer.

"Fine, I'll just come out and say it. I can't control my anger when other people piss me off," I answered. "And apparently, my bullying stems from the inner rage that I keep holding in."

"Language, Mr. Davis!" Ms. Carlson said. "This is a safe area, so we don't allow that type of language in this room. So, Mr. Davis, please refrain from it."

This was gonna be a long ass session, y'all.