Chapter One: I wasn't kidding
“Maybe it’s not that life isn’t meaningful, maybe it’s just that your life isn’t meaningful”-Donald Miller
Wow, you actually want to listen to the story of a cynical asshole… shouldn’t have said that.
Speaking of cynicism, I grew up in probably the most cynical, better yet depressing, of locations. Turns out a city once known for its bursting economy and wealth, but now known for its notorious crime rates and economic crisis isn’t the friendliest place. Oh yeah, by notorious crime rates, I mean fricken gang supremacy, and by an economic crisis, I mean immense poverty. And they told me I grew up in a first world country.
Thankfully simple tasks like getting around weren’t too bad. Traversing the city was really just a matter of being careful. Don’t make eye contact with the pot smoking gang who probably all had guns in their pants. From what I hear, the specific gang I pass every day after school has the best weed in the city, not that I would know.
Sneaking past the raspy paint-mouthed huffers was also a thing. God, I hate those kids.
Occasionally I considered stopping by Dan, a homeless guy who’d always tell you these depressing stories about his wife, child, and life before the war. And damn are those stories depressing. I think one of them was about how he had to watch one of his squadmates get stabbed to death repeatedly by some deranged soldier, and if he was really feeling it he might even get into some gruesome detail. At that point, I usually would look for the next opportunity to just end the conversation and get the hell out of there as soon as possible. Nobody wants to hear about that crap.
Oh yeah, and ignore everyone who decides to confusingly glance at me, usually in a mixture of shock, fear, and whatever. Unfortunately, that is a thing for me and has fricken screwed me over countless times before. Those are usually only the people who haven’t actually seen me yet, ‘cause apparently everyone has to get used to my existence for like at least a week, which is why I really like routines.
It’s funny how much people fear you when you’re different. I’m not really intimidating at all, although I can’t tell you how much I would like to be, but everyone tends to keep their distance. It’s like I’m not even a person to most people. I guess that’s what you get for being completely “inhuman” by their standards. It’s probably the truth anyway.
Thankfully the trek home was uneventful most days.
After a particularly shitty day I was walking home until my eyes met a house quite old in stature, yet showing no signs of chipping paint, cracked wood, or general wear for that matter. Although it wasn’t massive, it certainly dwarfed the neighboring homes around it. It was actually one the few points of pride I had back then.
I sighed and walked towards the house. Despite its age, the house did manage to give off a warm, inviting glow, however deceitful.
Reaching the door, I just stood there
How about you stop being a sissy and take it like a man!
I tried moving my leg but it wouldn’t respond.
Come on! Why won’t you work.
Mustering everything I had, I inched my leg to the door even as my body screamed at me.
Once I could feel the metal I slowly turned the handle and let the door creep open.
I lowered my head and kept it down. It was just one of those days where everything went wrong and social interaction was the last thing on my mind.
Initially, I had to restrain myself from bolting for the stairway and my room, but as I crept through the door the day finally granted me relief. Everything was normal and in place. The twins were fighting over video game time, Andy focussed on a separate tv watching whatever he could find or bare, and Eric seemed preoccupied with Jane’s math homework (she was really bad at math.) I was pretty late that day due to the uselessness of after school detention and I really didn’t want Eric to notice me and guilt me to death.
I continued on to the stairs glancing back every so often to make sure I went unnoticed. I never glanced for too long, just enough to know exactly what was happening in the room. Unfortunately right when I could just barely touch the first step Eric shot out to me.
“Hey, John?”
Oh god no.
“Yes?” I replied. Dammit, dammit, dammit… I really wanted to just ditch him and make a break for my room.
“How was school today?” His voice was always so inviting, even when you knew things were going to go bad.
“F-f-fine...”
Nononononono… I don’t want to deal with this. Just, no. Please no!
My head slowly turned to look at Eric. His smile faded. I looked away as my body shivered and sweat. I couldn’t deal with this again. He was that one person for me that would mental rape you if you disappointed them.
Everyone around me tuned in now too. I hate making scenes. It felt like a huge crowd fell silent just to hear my address to Gettysburg or something.
“H-h-horrible…” my speech was stuttering. I sweated profusely.
My day has been shitty enough as it is. Just leave me alone and let me get on with my life!
He looked at me as a parent would laying the law down on a child, like the one look that makes you feel like you just murder a kitten or something. A tear fell upon my cheek.
Why does this only happen to me? None of the other kids have to deal with this shit. Only me. Only me ever!
“John?”
Tears flooded my eyes.
“John!”
His voice darkened and his gaze became stern. My heart sank as if it was being pulled down to the bottom of the ocean. That gaze had put me through mental hell so many times. Something about the absolute authority he possessed with that look made me want to cower in a corner.
I bolted out of the room and stumbled up the stairs struggling to maintain speed. I needed to escape the sea of eyes. I cut a corner, leaped for my room, and hurled myself into my bed where I dug as deep into my covers as I could. There I shoved my face into my covers and let them soak from my eyes.
My bed was the place where I let everything unload time after time. Every fear, hatred, and disappointment came out here and this time was no exception.
So you had to fuck up today didn’t you?
I didn’t mean to. How else am I supposed to react to being provoked like that?
I don’t know? Maybe listen to all of that crap Eric tells you to do.
I did listen.
Then how about you actually try not to fail.
I do try!
Then why did you fail?
I don’t know! I’m doing everything I can and somehow that’s still not enough.
You should have done more. You know like actually prepare for once.
How am I supposed to know that? And by the way, I did prepare.
And it still wasn’t good enough for the paper, which gave the 'him' the idea for his notes and now you’re here. Do you want to succeed for once in your lifetime?
Yes.
Then work for it.
I did, and it wasn’t enough.
Why can’t I be good at anything? I suck at everything I try and everyone just fucks around with me every time I fail.
If I can’t even write a stupid paper how am I supposed to be anything at all??
I can’t do it.
I just can’t.
I hate this.
I hate everything.
“John?”
I didn’t even need to look out of my covers to know that Eric was by the door. I shifted under the covers away from him as far as I could, which wasn’t far at all being on a twin bed. Yet despite that, I felt some security with him being there, no matter how much I claimed the opposite.
The bed across from mine creaked. I knew where Eric was. I couldn’t tell if my body tensed up with regret or relaxed with relief.
“You had that look on your face when you came in.”
I remained silent.
“Are you ok?”
No response.
No, I’m not ok if you haven’t noticed!
I heard some shuffling from the other bed. Eric was probably scratching his head trying to figure out something to say.
I heard a long sigh.
“You remember why this place was founded?” His voice was soft.
You don’t have to tell me again.
“Well you know Mr. Preston, he was trying to figure out a way how he could actually do something with his fortune he amassed. Knowing him, he’s not the kind of person to be real… well… nice about it.”
Actually, Mr. Preston literally embodies the “evil business owner who only cares about his profits.” Hell, I think he even had a hunchback or something like it. Eric and some of the other adults try to keep telling us that he’s actually a good guy who cares about us, although I swear he counts his money in his free time. He does visit us kinda often, although he mostly talks to the adults about funding and stuff. He's so awkward around anyone like under sixteen years old.
“But he had an idea to change kids lives like yours. So he went out and purchased a few houses and diligently sought out good people to volunteer to run these houses… he wanted to give kids like you something like he had.”
Yea, yea, I knew that story too. Apparently orphanages are horrible places for children along with homeless shelters and other not normal housing. It has something to do with the lack of attention… I really don’t know. From what I heard, they were trying to create a more “family” like environment which I guess worked. I always felt alone still.
“You have more than you think you have, even more than some kids out there.”
I had it with story time. “Really? Like what? Those kids lunge’s are probably covered in paint with how much the fricken huff! They at least get to escape this hell by being high all the time!” Yea, there are a lot of huffers in the streets, like a ton. Part of the reason there were so few of these housing… things is that most kids in the street just get high as much as they can all day. And if it’s not paint then it’s pot, or maybe even some hard drug. I once heard a story from some kid at school about how some kid died in a gang war or something and in his autopsy his lungs were completely coated in paint. I didn’t really believe him, but nobody else believes him or any of his other stories either.
I found myself out of my den and staring right into Eric’s eyes. I caught him off guard for a sec. He had a weak smile but his eyes were fixed at the ground. In a way, I felt a little better, but I immediately flung my head the side and into my covers. “I can’t even do all of that easy crap that you guys, oh wait, everyone, take for granted.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, anything that requires fingers.”
“Come on, you can write and draw and do those sorts of things.”
“I more like barely manage.” When I was learning to write having a lack of hands put my teachers through absolute hell. They tried thing after thing trying to find a functional way for me to just hold a pencil in the first place, like tape, glue, string, and probably some other crap I don’t remember. One day as my teachers were complaining to Mr. Preston about how I was completely unteachable and doomed to fail, I tried biting down on the pencil and managed the worst “A” you’d ever see. After that, I was stuck with “mouth writing” if you can even call it that. Yea, I have the worst penmanship ever, computers are a blessing, except for keyboards, I hate keyboards.
“Well… you do...”
Eric’s eyes scanned the room. He was struggling to answer me. We both knew I was right.
“What do you think you are to me?” He tried pulling some trick out of his sleeve that I wouldn’t let him pull.
“I don’t know, what do I look like to you?”
“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to…”
“I know what I’m worth.”
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“I know exactly what you’re saying!”
“If you just let me finish…”
“I know what I am! I’m nothing!”
Eric stood his ground, but he couldn’t make eye contact with me.
Yea, I know your tricks. You know you can’t help me, you know I’m alone.
His eyes searched the room. I could see sweat droplets on him.
Then he reached out his hand grasped my baseball from my nightstand and proceed to toss it in the air the way a cocky pitcher would at the mound ready to strike out. Eric had me at checkmate, somehow...
“How has the new semester been working out?” Now you have to bring that up too do you? What just happened to checkmate?
“Shi… sucky.” Sucky was an understatement. I was notorious for having bad grades and plenty of referrals from angry teachers. I thought they were all just bad teachers considering how little they cared about me compared and picked favorites with everyone else. When it came to turning in homework or stuff I’d usually just write them off and refuse. Hell, I rarely ever did my homework. If school wouldn’t care about me I wouldn’t care about school.
“Do you know when your next test is?”
“I think there’s some math placement test tomorrow.” Like I’m going to do well on that.
“It doesn’t count as a grade does it?”
“I hope no...”
“I got a deal for you.” Eric initiated negotiation mode. Somehow he was able to talk kids into deals that would apparently benefit himself and the kids. “I challenge you to try your hardest on this next test as practice, and if you’re able to bring all of your grades to at least a “B” by the end of the year, then I might take you to a Tiger’s game in the summer.”
Fuck.
I stared at him with my mouth watering. I love the Tigers. I mean, like, I really love the Tigers. I like the Lions too but hell, they ain’t going to the super bowl anytime soon. I really like sports, I just really wish I could play them.
“You… you mean it?” Wait… how… why?
“Do I have a deal?” This time, Eric put an eyebrow into it. He knew he made a deal I couldn’t refuse.
“Fine.” Dammit, you know how to push all of my buttons.
Eric tossed the ball to me. I attempted to catch it but it kinda just fell onto my lap. He knew what the ball meant to me. The ball was given to me from that one kid with the lung story. He said the ball scored a game-winning home run for the Tigers. I really don’t trust him on this one either but I still kept the ball close. All I cared is that the ball even could’ve had such a story.
Eric’s body relaxed basking in his triumph, or he was just glad I kinda committed to something. Eh, one of those two. Anyway, he began to take his victory with him out the door until something stopped him dead in his tracks.
“By the way, what happened today at school?” Dammit, why did I think I would actually get away with this for once?
“We got back our papers back in class today. ‘The kid’ kept passing me these stupid notes during class and… he just kept provoking me and I couldn’t—” I reorientated myself on the bed, “—he’s such an ass...” Eric raised an eyebrow. Can I just say what I want for christ’s sake? “Jerk and wrote the worst… he called me a fricken… can I say it?”
“Just this once.”
“A fricken son of a horse fucker.” Yea, that wasn’t even the worst thing he said.
That one completely hit Eric from the left field. He had to like recover from that one. “Wow, you middle schoolers are mean.” Tell me about it. “I’ll… deal with that tomorrow. I’m guessing he got a mouthful from the principle. Did you do what we…”
“No, I punched him right in the gut. He fell down against the wall and I tried to hit him again, but the teacher got to me first.”
“You know you got to stop doing these…”
“What else am I supposed to do when he says that in the middle of class? It’s not like he shouldn’t have seen it coming.”
“You know you can’t… never mind. I’ll deal with it later.”
We stared at each other for a sec. I broke the silence.
“Is the deal still on?”
Please don’t take this away from me.
“Yea, just add not getting into significant trouble to the mix.”
Can you stop making this harder than it already is? I wanted to be able to pull that one out later.
With his head, Eric motioned for the door. “Bible story hour is calling my name now.”
“I thought that was late at like eight or something?” The clock on my nightstand read about four.
“I have a late meeting today for the city's reconstruction plans. They want a representative from engineering and the kids here really like my story time.”
“Wow…” Eric was very popular especially among the younger kids in the house for his story hour. One month when funding was really being stretched Eric told us some story of some widow who God never let her oil and flour run out for like a year after feeding some random dude. It gave us some hope as we made it through that month, although I knew Mr. Preston only had to just pull out a few more dollars from his profits than usual. Afterward, he insisted that Eric would read weekly. I had my own opinions of “phony hour.”
“Hey, if you’re ever interested.”
“‘Ever…’” That was an understatement.
“Suit yourself.” With that, Eric went down the stairs and was greeted by a swarm of children's voices. They were just getting home from elementary school and let me tell you, it sounded like one of those bad children’s choirs, like the really bad ones. Us middle schoolers and beyond really enjoyed our hour of freedom day after day before they came home. I couldn’t hear them easily, but I could make out for the most part what they were saying.
“...what story is for toda…”
“...is that a new bibl…”
“...hy do you have to leave so soo…”
“Shhh… you want me to have time for the story don’t you?” Eric exercised his control over his subjects.
All of the kids’ voices shut up.
“Ok then, what do I have for today? Oh! Do you know the story of Ezra?”
One kid responded, “who’s Ezra?”
“I’ll get there just give me a…” I heard pages shuffle from what I thought was Eric’s children’s bible, or it was the fat one, who cares.
The confines of my room were starting to wear on me plus I was always somewhat intrigued by the stories, so I dragged myself out of bed and crept towards the stairs. There I positioned myself out of sight but still close enough to listen in. I adjusted my ears till I could hear everything clearly, it’s surprising how handy adjustable ears are.
“Ah! In Ezra’s day, the Israelites had only just returned to their land and were still confused as to how to worship God. Plus, the temple had been toppled along with the walls of Jerusalem, although Nehemiah would be responsible for repairing those.”
Lame.
“You see, Ezra was well educated and very knowledgeable and after being in exile for so many years, Israel was pretty lost. Through his hard work, he was able to restore the practices of his people. Because of him, Israel was able to survive and the rest of the bible was able to be written and handed down.”
You know what, he should’ve failed so I wouldn’t have to listen to this crap week after week after fricken week.
“Nehemiah did cool things too, but his involved the rebuilding of the walls and…”
At that point, I lost interest ‘cause who really wanted to hear stories about some guy that did stupid things thousands of years ago? I didn’t want to go back to my room ‘cause it just felt suffocating, so I decided to get some fresh air and headed for the door.
Upon seeing me trot through the main room, Eric’s face shined with a glimmer of hope, for a sec, until I continued on for the door and crushed it. Grabbing my horribly oversized coat, I braced myself and stepped outside.
Stepping outside was like stepping into a wall of pure briskness. I mean, it hit you like a brick to the face. Still, It was nice to finally take a deep breath of fresh air and relax from the day. Noticing how my body was screaming from exhaustion, I collapsed on the stairs of the porch and let my worries fade. I could feel the wind blowing through my hair extracting every ounce of dread and taking it away like leaves in the fall. Things were finally starting to feel ok.
Across the street from me was a father and his son. They were sitting on a park bench singing some minimalistic rendition of Joy to the World while the father played guitar, which was pretty funny ‘cause Christmas was a few weeks ago. With the weather being completely white, they were troopers for even trying to perform in the middle of snowy winter hell. Still, they shared something, some sort of joy thingy that didn’t really make sense to me but was radiating from their words every time they sang.
I let the words slip from my mouth and joined in on the singing even though I hadn’t fully memorized the lyrics, and at that point, I felt something. It felt like their music invited me in to be a part of something, a family. The feeling of being loved and cherished, of being bonded by blood, of being connected so deeply that you would even give up your life for the other. For a moment, I felt as if they were my family too, and that I was loved.
The father then glanced at me and paused from playing for a moment. His face flushed with confusion for a sec and quite frankly, I wasn’t one to react after the day I had. Yet somehow the joy never left, nor did he ever seem afraid of me.
He continued playing on and I realized who I was. Hell, what I was. I didn’t ask to be born with hooves in a world designed by hands, for hands. To be forced to go life without the boundless love of a parent, or a sibling, or any intimate friend for that matter. I didn’t ask to be different, alone, and forgotten.
I just wanting something to hold on to. Anything. All I had was this song, and I held it on to it with every bit of being I had.
Chapter Two: Oh yeah, that kid
“The things you want in life you have to really need” from Sufjan Stevens’ “Carol of St Benjamin The Bearded One”
“So yeah, here’s that test I was talking about.”
Oh god, it’s coming.
I could feel my coat soaking from my own sweat.
“I guess all I can say do your best, and who knows, you might end up in a different class next year than expected.” Mr. James was taunting me. I don’t care if he is constantly reclining in his chair or just cracking jokes in the middle of class, he was taunting me.
He started handing out the test to the class starting with the row opposite of me. I watched ever so closely as the tests move down the row from kid to kid.
Thankfully, Mr. James lets us choose our own desks, so I always placed myself in the back corner of the room. Usually, this allowed me to get away with loads of useless drawings and insult notes but today, it was hell.
Now I had to actively control my endless fidgeting.
Why am I acting like this? This test doesn’t even count for anything.
The test crept up each row student by student. No one else reacted at all. They just grabbed the test and had at it.
One kid took one glance at the test and started drawing stickmen on it. My hope died.
Oh my god, why can’t I get a hold of myself.
“Uh… John?” The girl in front of me was staring at me.
“What?” I noticed I somehow managed to keep my face as stale and angry as possible.
“Are you ok?” So much for keeping a straight face.
No, I’m not ok if you hadn’t noticed!
“For your information, I’m not even phased by this test.”
“Ok then—” she looked over to her desk and grabbed something “—by the way, here’s the test.” She plopped the test right on my desk.
What!? I can’t… not yet…
I held a hoof to my mouth and muffled my screaming.
Fuuuuuuuuuck!
I was panting and my heart raced like it was going to explode. My mind spiraled out of control.
No no no no no… I can’t do this yet. I just need a little more time.
You don’t have any time!
Yes, I do! I have like— I glanced at the clock —an hour or something.
Exactly, that's going to get a lot shorter real soon.
I dropped my head onto my desk and focused only on my breathing.
Just in and out. That’s it.
In and out.
In and out.
In and out.
I’m ok.
I brought my head back up and took my first glance at the test.
Question 1
12 + 32 = ?
Really? This shit’s easy.
I don’t really know how to describe the feeling of “oh…” I felt right there and then. I scribbled a “44” as nicely as I could and moved on.
I didn’t remember what the test was for, but the first ten questions were about literally the most basic of basic math skills in what was supposed to be an insanely hard test. Ok, I hate school and never listen in class, but this was still easy to me.
Then question eleven came. 12 × 11 = ?
Ok, I can do this…
I scratched my head.
Um… 12 times 10 is 120 right? So, if I add another 12 I should be fine. So… 132!
I scribbled out my thoughts and continued.
After the first ten or so questions, the test was got harder. Each new problem added either a digit or a new symbol to work around. Eventually, I was working with these huge clustersfu—monstrosities of equations that I had to take real slow. I could still do them it’s just that it was getting hard.
Then I got to question 31, and holy hell.
Question 31
x is a variable
x can be any number unless the equation is balanced
Find x
12 + x = 22
Wait… what the hell is this!
I’m sorry, but up to that point, I had never seen letters in math apart from word problems. For two minutes I just stared at the problem trying to see the trick. Letters in math make no sense. What does x even stand for? Banging my head against the desk became more appealing by the second until a word stuck out to me…
Balanced…
A grin struck my face.
The Idea was simple: if I add or subtract something but do it to both sides, the equation would still be balanced, then I could figure out what x equaled. It was a longshot, but it was my best.
So 22 minus 12 equals 10 right? Ten, x equals ten… did I? Holy shit… I think I did it…
Ten was one of the multiple choice answers.
A smirk struck my face and my body was filled with energy. For a second, I wanted to jump on my desk and shove my achievement in everyone else’s face. I could solve it, or I least I thought I could.
Moving on to the next question, I applied the same strategy and my answer was still one of the multiple choice answers. Now I was deciding between if I’d cracked the code or fell for the obvious trick. The trick felt more realistic but I chugged on anyway.
Each question got successively harder and as I went on. Eventually, I got to a point where I was struggling to keep up with the math. Scribbles kept growing all over my paper as each question took longer and longer to finish.
I’ve done many tests before and sucked, but this wasn’t me. For once, I was doing something.
Then I got to the last question.
“By the way, you kids got like two minutes left.”
Wait, what? But I...
The end was so close, I just needed a little more time and the question was really complicated stringing so much order of operations crap with the new variable crap.
My fur was starting to soak again. I couldn’t hold my pencil due to how much my mouth was twitching.
Anything I would scribble down on paper always led me to a dead end. I just couldn’t solve the problem.
I glanced over at the clock and counted every, single, tick.
Ok ok … calm down and breath.
I plopped my head back on the desk.
Just breath.
Just breath.
Just keep breathing.
Let's finish this.
I brought my head back up, bit my pencil, and smirked as best I could with a pencil in my mouth.
The school bell rang.
“Alright, times up!”
WHAT!?
The pencil fell from my mouth. I processed those words.
I can’t tell you how close I was to finishing the test. It felt like the planets had aligned or something with my accomplishment held right in front of me. I was so close, but my luck came back at me like it always does and snatched it all away.
I took in a deep sigh.
My mind was racing with every decision I could’ve made to shorten up time. I could’ve taken one less breath, or maybe I could have—no, should have—worked a little quicker on that one easy question instead of thinking about how I was going to brag to Eric later that day. Wait, but what if I went a little too fast on the question after it? Something seemed off with the answer I got and I had to decide between something with a negative sign or not in the moment.
Whatever, screw this!
I took a look around the class. I was the only one left.
“Are you gonna go, John?” Mr. James was right in front of my desk grabbing my test.
“Yeah, just give me a sec…” I grabbed my pencil and threw it in my backpack, tossed my backpack onto my back, and darted for the classroom door.
“See you tomorrow, John!”
“Pfff…” I rolled my eyes.
I gave Mr. James a glance before I left the class. He was looking at my test quite intently, which was surprising considering I didn’t write anything blatantly offensive this time. Whatever it was it didn’t really matter to me.
Just as I got through the class door I thought I heard something inside the class. It sounded something like a chuckle, but considering the kind of things Mr. James does in class I wouldn’t be surprised.
— — —
I’m gonna be honest, the rest of my day was pretty normal: got yelled at in writing for crappy grammar, yet again; accidentally said something both horribly offensive and demeaning in social studies and was scolded by the teacher; daydreamed in literature about leaving this hell hole; misidentified rocks in science (yeah, go figure); and was put to shame by everyone else in gym in endurance, also again.
So by the end of the day, I was basically dragging my legs across the locker room floor counting each second until the bell rang. If you were ever wondering, this is why I don’t like school.
Eventually, the moment came when the sweet, sweet bell rang and freedom was bestowed upon me.
The funny thing is that despite my burning internal desire to get out of school, I always stay in the hallways for about ten minutes after the bell. Well, the best way to avoid people after school is to either leave immediately or stick around and wait for everyone to leave, and the gym is quite literally as deep inside the school as possible so I basically had one option.
After the initial wave of people, I would find a bench and just wait. Honestly, I could actually do homework for once but I neither cared enough or was up to it. Instead, I sat and daydreamed.
Today I fell back on my favorite dream I usually had: if I could just fly out of here to anywhere I wanted. Maybe I would fly over the lake and watch the morning sunrise from the sky. When the sun rises the lake acts as a sort of shimmering glass mirror that supposed to be absolutely beautiful, and the waves are supposed to add glimmer and sparkle to the light.
I really wouldn’t know ‘cause I’ve only been to the lake like three or four times. Although it is beautiful, it’s also rocky and cold.
Or maybe I could fly to the city and sit upon the tallest building I could find, like that Penobscot building. I could look down and see all of those streets I used to live on along with the assholes in them and mock them until they try to hurt me. Then I would fly as fast as I could away from them and laugh at them all I wanted. And the best part, they couldn’t do anything about it.
For once, I would be free.
“Hey look! It’s that dreamer.”
And it was that kid.
My eyes darted toward him and met a rowdy jerk in track warmups who was always latching on to his “AUN” hat.
“So John, have any of those dreams come true?”
You bitch! “No.”
He snickered and walked closer to me. “I gonna be honest, I went a little overboard yesterday. Although I do think detention was pretty fun for someone like you right?”
Thanks for reminding me.
He paced around me. “I will say, I didn’t think those notes would provoke you so much.”
It’s not like you ever get bombarded with notes saying crap like clop nigger, ‘the great bitch-pony,’ and doomed-to-fail.
“But physically assaulting me?”
My eyes fell to the floor.
“I mean, I got some bruises from that.” He lifted his shirt and revealed a large circular bruise on his stomach. It had a dark essence to it as if it was dead and decaying. My own stomach felt sick.
“Do you want another one, Paul?” I stared deathly into his smile. I almost shook resisting the adrenaline surging through my veins.
He brought his head right to my face. I backed up my head a bit.
“I don’t know, do you want to spend another half hour getting yelled at by the principal?” He knew why I was hesitating.
I extended my body and tried to look as tall as I could. He still towered over me. All I could do was stare and look angry.
“I thought so.”
He took a step back, readjusted his hat, and walked toward the door.
“I guess you’ll have to catch me using those wings of yours. It’d be the only way how something like you could catch a track star.”
I heard a snicker.
“Oh wait! You can’t.”
He laughed at his own insult as he strolled out the door.
Every muscle in my body either tensed up or shook profusely. I could feel the rage boiling down to the depths of my soul, yet a tear fell down my cheek.
I bit the strap of my backpack and ran straight to the double doors stumbling over my hooves along the way. As I soon realized that I had my eyes closed I slammed my head into the door. Pain struck my forehead like a bat to the face. I immediately collapsed on to the ground.
A puddle of tears and a little blood grew on the floor under my face. My focus broke.
Why does he always do this shit to me? There’s gotta be someone else he can screw over.
You need to get up now! Everyone can see you.
I lifted my head and took a look around. The hallway was empty except for the echoing tick of the clock above.
Like who?
Well… fine, but what if someone comes?
I just can’t take…
You’re already stupid and bitchy in everyone else's eyes. The last thing you want is to be weak.
So? Would that come as a surprise to them anyway?
Maybe, but does it matter?
…
Look, do you want to be strong at all?
Yes.
Then start here.
I mustered every bit of strength I could and positioned each leg, stood up, pressed my head against the door, and pushed. I could feel my forehead sting and drip as I pushed harder and harder against the door. My front legs kept slipping from the puddle below me, but I had to keep pushing. Even as I fell, I stumbled back up and pushed.
Eventually, the door finally gave way and as it opened, I tripped over my front legs and fell to the ground.
I crawled to the side, adjusted my body upright, and let myself fall apart. My clothes, along with my fur, soaked up my tears. I didn’t care if anyone saw me anymore. I just really wanted to be alone.
Somewhere during that, I lost track of time, but that didn’t matter. I just wanted to be something. Anything other than who I was.
— — —
After thirty minutes or so I cried myself out and was mentally stable again. Thankfully, no one passed through the doors during that time. For once luck was actually on my side.
I adjusted my backpack, carefully placed my hooves, and stood up. I finally had control over my body despite my little episode, although I did exhaust myself.
I walked over to the window right next to the door while sighing in relief that every step I made was precise and intentional.
Upon reaching the glass, I tried to find my reflection against the white winter backdrop, which is actually pretty hard. Once I did, thanks to my deep gray coat, I inspected my forehead. I couldn’t make out much, but despite a little bit of red, it looked ok. I couldn’t feel the pain much anymore too, although it still stung after touching it. Once I finished I repositioned myself in front of the door and braced for the cold.
Winter wasn’t nearly as big of a deal for me as it was for like, everyone else. I could easily get away with just a sweatshirt or coat while everyone around me would bundle up for like the coming ice age or something. And if it was just around freezing, I might be fine with even just a shirt. I guess it’s what you get for having a fur coat.
Also, the house was just like a mile or so from school. I was hoping it would be an easy, uneventful trek back today.
Snow lightly sprinkled from the sky along with temps that were starting to even chill me. Ice also built up on the cement, which I decided to have a little fun with and slide across, lifting my spirits just a bit. Back in elementary, Ice sliding was apparently dangerous and evil or something. Let's just say I loved to abuse my new found privileges. I also happen to be really good at sliding, which probably has something to do with having four legs.
Once I got off of school property it would be a few blocks to get back, although this part of the neighborhood was pretty depressing with every fourth house being boarded up.
Still, apart from the real gang and huffers, which never bothered me, there was also a wannabe gang of preteens that hung out in an abandoned house. They shouldn’t be a problem, like they never did anything to me, let alone talk to me at all.
“Hey, it’s him!”
Except for today.
“We’ve been waiting for a while here!”
They talked to me!
There were three of them all bundled up in a weird mixture of decent clothing, ragged jackets, and beanies. If you didn’t notice the brand new jeans and shoes, they would’ve looked homeless. The mock gang comprised of a kid on a chair that sat in the middle of the sidewalk. He had two goons to this left and right beside him. I thought there were more gang members but I didn’t care at the moment.
I was confused. I rarely noticed the mock gang, let alone speak to them. As far as I was concerned they did the same to me.
I froze in my steps. Today just kept on giving.
“Seriously, it’s like three twenty-five. What were you doing for forty minutes?” The three of them were dulled in their faces, just eager for some entertainment.
“Uh… I was…”
“You know what? Who cares—” the kid stood up “—all I care is that someone is willing to give us a generous payment under one condition.” He walked up to me and got up to my face. Both of his goons smiled with anticipation. “Fifty dollars to beat you up.”
Dammit Paul, it’s been forty minutes and you can’t leave me be!
I still had one trick up my sleeve, but I knew I would suffer for it. “I… I—I thought…”
“Stop stuttering” —He got even closer— “are you going to say something?”
I braced myself. “I thought real gangs just did crap, not talk about it.”
He pick me up from my coat until I could barely touch the ground with my hind legs, and threw me into the yard. The snow, although cold, cushioned the fall but before I could get up he grabbed me again and held me against the house.
He stared me straight in the eyes. Despite fully extending my body, I couldn’t even touch the ground. He was still taller than me.
“Don’t diss us, you bitch!”
He punched me right between the eyes. Any tears I had left fell from my eyes.
He let go of me. I slid against the house falling to the rocks surrounding by the wall. Then he kicked me, although he really only hit my legs. I could see the other kids coming closer. I braced myself for the next kick.
“Hey, guys! What’s going on here?”
A fifth voice cut through the air instantly diverting the attention of the gang. I quickly shuffled behind an overgrown bush and searched for a hole in the branches to observe.
“Why would you care?”
“Are you, like beating someone?”
I finally found the hole and got a good look at the newcomer. Apart from a fur hat, his clothing was nothing special. He was just a bit taller than anyone in the gang.
“Someone? We’re not assaulting ‘someone.’”
“Ok… but still, what are you doing?”
“I can show you, but you’ll have to learn firsthand.”
The gang approached him each ready for a real fight. The newcomer pushed a button on one of those watch phones that everyone with money and their moms had.
“Nine-one-one?”
The gang leader laughed hysterically. “You think the cops can get here in time?”
“Yeah, I’d like to request an ambulance… yeah, probably three… ten minutes is enough time.”
The gang looked around. “An ambulance? What do you think you’re going to do?”
“On second thought, nevermind. I don’t think they want them.”
The gang was pissed. Their leader lunged forward with a punch toward the newcomer’s face. The newcomer stepped to the side, grabbed the leader by his neck, and chucked him into a snow pile behind him.
Then one of the goons sprinted and shot his fist for the newcomer’s head. The newcomer responded this time by grabbing the goon with his other hand and sending him both into the snow pile and his leader.
The other goon took a slower approach with fists guarding his face. The newcomer responded with a fake punch causing the goon to reflexively cover his face. In a fraction of a second, the newcomer was right beside the goon with a leg lock behind the goon’s and an arm locked beneath his armpits. Then the newcomer threw the goon straight onto the icy sidewalk. My ears twitched from the painful thump and a hint of bone cracking.
I was staring in awe at the show through my bush. I mean, I’ve never seen assholes like this get beaten up so badly.
The two stuck in the snow pile stumbled to their feet and approached the newcomer for round two. Their steps and attacks were delayed with hesitation as the newcomer stood his ground.
This time, the newcomer worked quickly with one fluid motion sending the goon face first into the ice, and in another, putting the leader into an arm lock in the snow. I could feel the piercing screams send chills down my spine.
Once the newcomer let go of the leader the three gang members—one coughing, one bleeding through the nose, and one scared shitless—retreated behind a broken fence to the backyard of the house.
I sat there mesmerized by the events that unfolded in front of me. I’ll be honest, getting punched and kicked so I could witness that was totally worth it.
“You gonna come out?”
Crap crap crap! He’s coming. He’s going to see me.
You know what’s going to happen. You might as well prepare for it.
“Hello?”
He approached somewhat leisurely. I repositioned myself upright and prepared for the usual. As his head popped out of the side of the bush his eyes immediately widened. He stopped dead in his tracks. I hated it when people reacted like this.
“What… don’t act like you haven’t seen me before.”
“I don’t think I have.” His spoke slowly and hesitantly.
“Come on, just look at me. You can spot me from a mile away.”
“Well, I see…”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, then thank you. I don’t get enough respect already.”
He looked down, took one last glance at me, and walked away.
I stepped out from behind the bush and took a moment to take in the aftermath of justice and overturned snow before me. It was nice to have someone who harassed me actually get punished for once, although this was more of sheer justice. After a short breather, I continued along the path to the house.
At first, I trailed him a good twenty yards away entirely ‘cause he was going in the same direction as me. After the day I had, I didn’t want to deal with the awkward game.
I glanced behind and noticed two more kids similarly dressed to the earlier mock gang following me.
Well, there are more kids in that gang.
By now the victims probably messaged the rest of the members about what happened. I couldn’t really tell but they most likely wanted me alone.
I sped up my steps trying to gain more ground. They gained ground on me instead. I kept speeding up moving as fast as I could without making a scene.
Crap, they’re getting closer.
“Why are you following me?”
I was so focussed on what’s behind me that I forgot about the guy in front of me. The newcomer (I don’t think think I can call him that anymore) fixed his gaze ahead. I glanced back, the mock gangsters trailed us at a steady distance now.
Uhhh… bullshit reason!
“Them.”
Shit, that was the truth!
“What about them?”
I glanced back again. The gangsters fell back further. “I think they’re afraid of you.”
“Really?” He chuckled. “Who are those kids anyway?”
What? You don’t know them? “You mean the mock gang that keeps advertising and boasting themselves while giving the principle a heart attack every five seconds?”
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”
“Does the Bloody Crips?”
He paused for a moment. “Now that I think about it, I did see a poorly drawn ad on printer paper with that on it.”
Advertising gold.
He went on, “I kinda just laughed and walked on by. Who cares anyway?” I raised an eyebrow. “Well… shit.”
Thank god I’m not the only one who swears.
He stopped for a sec, hesitantly glanced at me, then continued walking like nothing happened.
The silence just continued on and on. It didn’t really bother me, but it just felt like I was ignoring him. I looked across the street trying to come up with conversation topics when I noticed another group of three kids on a bench all staring at us.
“More of them across the street.”
“Ok then, how many of them are there?”
“Lots on paper, but really… wait, do you know anything here?”
“Well, I’ve only been here for like six months. Sorry if I can’t know everything.”
We walked for a bit. I tried to break the silence again.
“So—uh, where are you from then?”
“Grand Rapids.”
“Ok…”
“Have you been to Grand Rapids?”
“No.”
“Do you know anything about Grand Rapids?”
“No.”
“Really? Does ArtPrize or ‘beer city USA’ ring a bell at all?”
“Still no.”
He stopped and facepalmed. Then he held up his right hand and pointed a little to the left of the center of his palm with his left hand. I hate it when people do that.
“It’s about right here if you were wondering.”
“I get the point.”
More silence. I hate silence.
I glanced at him and noticed how he fixed his focus straight in front of himself. He would occasionally turn his head and connect eyes with me, but only for the blink of an eye.
My back sent tremors through my body. I needed to say something.
“So… what brings you here?”
“Dad’s a bio teacher at the high school. He was given a temporary job for a year there, and I had to come along.”
“Like it here, doncha?”
He glared at me.
I changed the topic, “So, uh… how did learn to fight so well?”
“Dad’s an AUN vet. He taught me a few things.”
The AUN again? Really?
I grunted, but with sass.
He noticed. “What? Are you an AUN opponent or something?”
“No, it’s just… forget about it.”
We arrived at the park I lived by; he turned to cross the street. I could see the house a few houses down.
“Where are you going?”
“I live on the other side of the park.”
My eyes lowered.
He continued and crossed the street. Just then I realized I completely forgot about something.
“Hey—” he looked back at me “—got a name?”
“James.”
“John.”
“Heh, see ya.” He performed the weakest wave I’ve ever seen.
I tried my best to wave without looking stupid with my hoof. Believe me, it’s hard.
He went on his way and I just sat there for a sec. My body finally was able to relax after that stressful and horribly awkward episode. I just don’t have the people skills others have, even beyond the obvious reasons.
Once James was almost out of sight I got up and had a little fun sliding on the icy sidewalk to the house.
— — —
Andy, apart from being one of the few people that actually talk to me, was a tv connoisseur. He could just sit there and watch for literally hours. Not only that, but he also knew everything about every channel: what’s good, what sucks, and what is actually worth wasting your day too.
He also, for some reason I still don’t understand, kept up with the news really well. I swear I could make up a city name and he would tell where it is in the world and what’s happening there, and I think I have done that too.
“Anything good?”
Andy sat on the couch legs spread and hands together focused on the tv.
“No.”
“Sure?”
“Yup.” His hand went for the remote.
“What’s it about?”
“Some good guy, guns, and explosions. The usual.” He pulled up the menu and started sifting through the channels. “Let's see what else is up.”
I climbed onto the couch right beside him and glanced at him. He literally dwarfed me in size. Andy has one of those large builds that makes most kids look like elves compared to him. It’s even worse when I’m next to him. I look like a fricken midget.
Couches just didn’t work with me. I always ended up either lying on my side or awkwardly leaning back further than my legs would like. In the end, I always managed. Today I went with an upright position, which was bearable.
“News?” Andy was really running out of options.
“Is that it?”
“Yeah.”
“Fine.”
The channel switched. The headline read “NEW THREAT MADE TOWARDS EQUESTRIA.”
I chimed in, “Another one?”
“Probably just one of those fringe terrorist groups.”
I grunted.
The reporter started speaking. “Today a new terrorist organization declared its opposition to Equestria in an online video calling the nation ‘unhuman’ and ‘the spawn of satan.’” The footage cut to a poorly made video of some guy in a ski mask holding a rifle while speaking in a different language. “However, there is little worry from both the local inhabitants and the AUN.”
The video cut to some random AUN soldier. “We’ve been here for twelve years. Believe me, nothing can phase me. There’s a reason we’re called the Army of the United Nations.”
Eric walked in. “What’re you watching?”
“Guess what nation got a death threat today.”
“Ok.”
We continued watching but just like that the news switched to another story about some local bakery or something. And just like that, I lost interest too.
“I’m going to bed.”
Andy looked at me. “It’s like nine o’clock?”
I grunted and continued on the usual trek up the stairs.
Once I got to my bed I climbed on top of it and kinda just sat there looking out the window. I really wasn’t that tired.
Eric stepped through the door with a smile. “Somehow I knew you weren’t sleeping.”
I glanced, smirked, then continued looking out the window.
“Also, it’s nine o’clock and winter so there really isn’t much to see outside.”
“I noticed.”
Eric sat on the other bed and joined me in staring out the window.
“So, how did that test go today?”
“Think I did pretty well except for that stupid last question.”
“That’s where they put the hard ones.”
“Yeah…”
Now his gaze was as fixed outside as mine. I had a question nagging at my mind.
“What do people think when they first see me?”
“‘They exist!’” We both chuckled but quieted right afterward.
The silence lasted.
“But like… what did you think when you first saw me?”
“I wasn’t kidding about that.”
This time, I glared at Eric.
“But to be honest, I spent years hearing about the new land and people that inhabit it and eventually that whole spiel became an oversight in my mind. But to see you.” He paused. “It just changes your perspective on life to see someone struggle with some of the easiest of tasks. Then again, more struggles mean more victories.”
My speech softened. “I guess so.”
Another pause.
“I know what your wish is, John, and I wish I could give it to you.”
My eyes fell to the floor.
“I’m doing the best I can.”
I couldn’t look at Eric. He knew me.
“Anyway, I got to go and check on the little ones. I guess this is goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” My voice was faint and distracted.
Eric smirked and left the room.
I stared out the window and just thought. I couldn’t understand why I had to be different. Why I had to struggle where everyone else didn’t. Why I had to grow up with nothing. It didn’t make any sense.
A tear fell from my eye. I wiped it with my hoof and gave a sniffle. It had been a long day and I was tired. I laid down, turned off the lamp, and stared at the ceiling waiting to fall asleep.
I wanted to dream again.