Have you ever just felt so alone and an outcast in so many situations? You think this is how life must be and you’ll be like a shadow in a dusty corner. Sometimes our lives give us lemons and we make lemonade. But without that sugar, it turns sour. Yet no one stops to ask why? If we’re social outcasts shouldn’t we just stay social outcasts instead of trying to fight? What’s the point in us even attempting to fit in anymore, somewhere where no one really wants us?
All of these thoughts race in my mind while I walk to school with the wind blowing through, my chestnut brown hair. It’s usually the same routine everyday for me. Wake up, put on my favorite band tee and walk to school, go to classes, come home, and sleep. No one cares what I look like anyway. Well, I guess that’s a lie. My parents obviously care about me, but that’s really it.
“Hey Carter dear,” says Mrs. Lawonski. Now I have known this little old lady ever since we moved to this state and probably the only person in Minnesota with a heart like hers. “Hey, Mrs. Lawonski. How are you?” I question.
“Oh, you know me. Tired and baking all the time. Now get going before you miss first period,” she tells me.
“Alright, see you later,” I say. But little did I know that would be my last time talking to her.
I should’ve listened to Mrs. Lawonski and walked faster to school, but I didn’t and ended up stepping in a pile of mud, wearing my brand new white chucks I got for my birthday two days ago. “Just great,” I mutter to myself. It’s not like I cared about people judging what I look like, considering my big square glasses and shaggy hair. I just really loved these shoes and now they’re trash, like me.
I ended up being thirty minutes late into my first class. No one cared if I was late or even noticed I came in. But I did care. I have a passion for learning and using the new information when I can. It’s just no one really ever cared about me to find things out about me, nor did I care to explain myself to anyone.
It was now third period and all I wanted was for the bell to ring and let me free to lunch. Even if I don’t sit with anyone and am off in the corner, I still enjoy sitting and listening to my music. “Carter, are you paying attention?” my Spanish teacher, Ms. Mason, asks.
“Uh, yeah sorry,” I say. We were just conjugating verbs, something I knew all to well. I guess you could say Ms. Mason is the only teacher who cares about me. Or maybe she just wants to give me pity because I’m different from everybody else. I have a lisp, I’m scrawny, and a social outcast. How much better could my small pathetic life get? Oh well, its life. If I made it this far, I can make it even farther.
The bell finally rang which meant I could go to lunch. I yelled bye to Ms. Mason and walked to the cafeteria. At this hour, it’s the most jam-packed room in the whole entire school. It makes me pretty nervous sometimes, because I’m not sure if something would happen to me or not. Maybe I’ll get insults thrown at me or get tripped in front of everyone again. But of course it’s also full of your typical cliques at lunch. You know, the jocks, cheerleaders, etc. I just usually avoid them at all costs. I mean whom needs that much praise for just being in a sport? Sure, it’s cool and all, but they don’t need to be jerks to everyone else. This is high school, not an episode of 90210.
As I’m walking through the lunch line and to my normal seat in the corner, I can see Ben just eyeing me from across the room. From there I just hurry up and scurry to my seat. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not scared of Ben, but I’m the only one who knows about his anger filled past. So I just try to avoid him.
As I’m eating, I notice the group of jocks come my way, great. “Hey, ass wipe. I see you’re a bit on the bony side. Here’s some baked beans for you,” Ben says, while Hunter and Dominic throw the beans at me. I feel humiliated and don’t even know what I should do. Luckily some girl just drags me out the cafeteria and tells me it’s going to be ok. “Um, no offense, but who are you?” I question.
“My name is Sophia. I just thought you could use a helping hand,” she says.
“Oh. Thanks I guess. Do we have any classes together?” I ask.
“Probably not. I’m a senior and you’re a junior right?” she says.
“Yeah I am. How’d you know?” I ask her.
“How can I not know, Carter? You’re the smartest student here. C’mon now.”
“I guess I am. Just surprising someone like you would-“
“Oh my gosh Sophia! What are you doing talking to,” she takes a pause to look me up and down, “him.”
“What do you mean? There’s nothing wrong with him,” Sophia says.
“Nothing wrong? He’s not like us Soph. He’s scrawny and funny looking. Doesn’t even have any friends,” Sophia’s cheerleader friend says. I didn’t even stay around for the rest. I know everything that girl said was true. I’m not like them. I am scrawny and have no friends. I’m just a seventeen-year-old boy trying to survive high school.
After the whole lunch scenario and people making fun of me, I decided to skip my fourth and fifth periods. It was only band and government, but I just couldn’t go to class. Even if all those kids dislike me, I came here to only get an education. Not to be tormented by other people. So after my little pity party in the bathroom, I grew a pair and went to my sixth period.
We don’t do much in engineering class these days since the teacher left to go have her baby. The only things we’ve started doing are to just watch obscure videos about experiments kids have done. I’d like to think one day maybe I become an engineer. I have the brains for it and excitement, but I don’t know. “Hey baked beans boy. Got any more beans for me?” a random student in this class asks me while laughing hysterically. I just roll my eyes and patiently wait for the day to end.
“Ring!” Hearing that is a sign indicating for me to go to my last period, which is Study Hall down in the library. Now I’m being honest right now, I don’t go to the library; I go out to the field and sit up in the bleachers. I still do my homework or read, just in a different environment.
I must’ve been hallucinating because after twenty minutes of sitting here, I hear a bunch of banging from underneath my seat. I planned to ignore it, but it just kept going and going. So I finally got up and went down to investigate.
The first thing I see isn’t even surprising to me. It’s Ben hitting the metal stands repeatedly. “What are you doing?” I say.
“The hell do you care for Carter? This doesn’t even concern you!” He yells.
“I don’t, but I don’t think you want your hand dripping blood either,” I say, while he looks down at his hand.
“Like I care. God. No one freaking understands me. It’s like I’m alone in this world,” then he proceeds to punch the bleacher again. “I’m so sick and tired of people thinking they can walk over me. I mean who do my parents, think they are? If they didn’t want me they should’ve just killed me before I was born!” he yells again.
“Ok, ok. Calm down Ben. We can work this out. Maybe get you a therapist or something,” I suggest.
“Are you kidding me? A therapist? A therapist won’t help!” he says while throwing some old soda cans at me. “I’m so mad, I could kill someone! I envy you Carter. You have everything and still you are upset everyday.”
“What are you talking about? I get bullied everyday basically by you because I’m different!” I yell back.
“Oh boohoo. At least you have parents that care for you!” he says while coming closer to me with clenched fists.
“What are you doing?” I question, getting actually very scared.
“Teaching you a good life lesson, you’ll never forget,” he says. He then proceeds to grab me by my collar and slam me into the bleachers. Forcing some blood to ooze from behind my head.
“Please don’t do this,” I beg to Ben, but it’s as if someone else has taken over his body and there was no way for me to make it out alive.
I did honestly try to fight back, but the amount of punches he kept throwing at my face, I just couldn’t anymore. Maybe this is how my life should just go. Barely anyone would miss me anyway and what’s the point in trying when you can’t? So I took my faith in my hands willingly, letting one single tear fall from my deep ocean blue eyes, and left this world.
I guess in the end all I wanted was my voice to be heard, for people to take time and understand who I was. Maybe things would’ve been different then, but we’ll never find out; I’ll never find out.