Dog Eat Dwag

Don't Laugh at Me Three years ago, I would have told you I don't belong. I would have told you that I was useless and I didn't understand why God brought me into this world. My name is James Duncan. I was in grade twelve at Meadowview high. My high school was just like any other. The jocks on the football team were dating the cheerleaders, the prom queen had already been decided, the nerds spent their spare time in the library and the burnouts didn't graduate. Then, there was me. Before we start our story, I will give you some background information about myself. Don't get me wrong, I used to have friends. I still remember middle school like it was yesterday. My best friend Mikey and I used to spend every day after school together. We would pig out on licorice and play video games all night. We used to tell each other everything. On the last day of grade eight, we planned a huge sleepover. We went to the grocery store down the street from where I live and bought lots of chocolate, chips, soda, skittles and licorice. We walked quickly past freaky Bob's house and had our daily greetings with my old neighbour Helen. She had a huge, welcoming house and I had been visiting her ever since I could remember. Her snowflake white hair, beautiful smile and friendly voice made me always look forward to visiting her after school. When Mikey and I arrived back home, we instantly started playing video games. I beat my high score in a new game I had just purchased and I was overjoyed. I had been saving up my money for five months to buy it and I absolutely loved it. Mikey and I laughed and played and had the time of our lives. My mom arrived home from work that day at five o'clock. When she walked in the door, I ran up and embraced her in a giant hug. I had so much to tell her. I wanted to tell her all about Mikey and my plans for the summer and everything we wanted to do together. I will never forget looking into her eyes and seeing the worry and pain. Her eyes were red and puffy which meant she had been crying. Her hands were clenched into fists and as I leaned against her chest, I could feel her heart beating a million times a minute. I asked her in a soft, gentle tone, "Mom is everything okay?" "Son, I'm so sorry. I think it's time that Mikey go home." When she finished speaking, I was confused. My stomach began to twist, and sweat started dripping down my forehead. I looked at Mikey apologetically. I said to my mom, "But what about our sleepover? School finished today!" I desperately wanted Mikey to stay. We had so many activities planned for that night! Mikey began to pack up his things and said, "Don't worry about it James, I'll talk to you tomorrow." He opened the front door and walked out. That was the last time I had a conversation with Mikey Williams. After Mikey left, my mom sat me down on the couch and explained that my dad had been in a car accident. She said that on his way to work, someone ran a red light and broad sided his car. He died instantly. I remember being in shock. Why did someone have to take my dad away from me? Why did someone have to take away my best friend? I still had so much I wanted to tell him. He told me we'd play basketball together that summer and he said he would bring me and Mikey to the new amusement park that had just opened in town. I cried. I cried a lot. What else was I supposed to do? My mom and I cried together. We cuddled on the couch that night without saying a word to each other. Neither of us knew what to say. My head was spinning out of control and my throat tightened. What were we going to do? I woke up the next day and my mom had planned a trip for us. She said that she thought a vacation would do us good. I agreed. It gave me time to clear my head. After the funeral, we travelled to Florida and stayed there for two months. We stayed at a hotel right beside the ocean. It was absolutely perfect. The ocean was as blue as the midnight sky and the beach was very welcoming. My mom and I spent our summer swimming in the ocean, relaxing on the beach and playing beach volleyball with our new friends. My mom was right. The trip helped us escape from all the pain and suffering back home. Two months later, we returned to our home in New York. It was time to go back to reality. I walked into school for my first day of grade nine. The school seemed much bigger and I was intimidated. The red walls around me were screaming out to me in fear and every locker held a million stories. I saw Mikey up the hall and became relieved. I ran up to him, "Hey Mikey!" He turned around and looked at me in disgust. "It's Mike." With that, he turned back around and continued to talk to his friends. It was at that moment that I realized I was alone. Now we can fast forward four years. I was in grade twelve and I had no friends. I had shaggy brown hair and I was short and plump. Not much of a babe magnet if you ask me. I tried to focus on my school work as a distraction from the real world. I got good grades and I wanted to be a doctor when I grew up. The day my dad died was the day I decided I would become a doctor. I wanted to help save lives. I think that's what my dad would've wanted. Once a week, I visit our school guidance counselor, Mr. Pickett. He has short white hair and always wears a lab coat. He also has black glasses and a white mustache. He's such a nice guy and I strongly believe that he has helped me survive high school. I remember the first time I visited him in grade nine. My mom was working three jobs to try and pay the bills and she had no time to talk to me. I missed my dad, and Mikey, and I needed someone to talk to. Mr. Pickett gave me hope. He gave me something to believe in again. Ever since then, I've visited him weekly. It was Friday, and I was on my way to Mr. Pickett's office for our weekly visit, when I bumped into Mikey in the hallway. He was a typical jock, playing football and dating a cheerleader. He was talking with a group of friends and I couldn't get by. I politely said, "Excuse me." Mikey turned around so fast my head started to spin. He said, "Excuse me loser? Who are you to ask me to move? Get lost." It was hard to believe that four years before we were hanging out together every day. I walked away and eventually made it to Mr. Pickett's office. When I walked in, he greeted me the same way he has for four years. "Hello James, how was your week?" I sat down and began, "Why do people have to be so mean? I can't wait to get out of here. Everyone here thinks they are so cool. They think they have the right to treat others badly. I hate all of them. I can't wait to start over somewhere far away from here." I left that day feeling like a weight was lifted off my chest. I talked to Mr. Pickett for over an hour and I felt relieved that I had someone to tell everything to. As much as I hate to say it, Mr. Pickett was my father figure through high school. He gave the best advice and he always knew how to cheer me up. Even though we didn't play basketball together and he didn't take me to an amusement park, I was still grateful to have him. The bell rang to go home that day and I began walking down the hall to my locker. Something seemed different. Everyone was looking at me. I could see the hatred in their eyes. Usually I'd be used to this but it wasn't the same. When I got to my locker, Mikey and two of his friends picked me up and brought me out of the school. They dropped me on the basketball court outside. The pavement was scorching hot against my face and I could feel the blood on my cheek. I could hear them yelling things like, "We heard you talking to Mr. Pickett earlier," "You want to get out of here so bad? Leave now. Nobody wants you here anyways," "Everyone hates you." They left me on the pavement that day alone. I couldn't decide whether I even wanted to get up. I got home that night and went to bed. I didn't eat supper. I didn't do my homework. I just slept. I dreamt of my dad and I playing basketball on the driveway. I dreamt of my mom and I playing volleyball in Florida. I dreamt of my dad laughing. I dreamt of my dad and I laughing together. I really missed my dad. I woke up the next morning and I knew exactly what I was going to do. I was going to see my dad. I got to school that day and took a deep breath. I had butterflies in my stomach for the first time in four years. It felt like the first day of school all over again. I walked into the hall and started toward my locker. Mikey and his friends were at my locker writing "Loser" in black marker all over it. It was at that point that I lost it. I took the gun out of my book bag and held it up toward my locker. I blocked out all the screaming and panic happening around me and pulled the trigger. The bullet went right into my locker, missing Mikey's face by three inches. Everyone in the hall started running toward the exit or into classrooms, except Mikey and his friends. They were frozen still. It appeared to me like their feet were glued to the floor. Mikey spoke up and said, "James, we're sorry. We didn't mean to hurt you. We were just messing around." I replied, "Don't say another word to me Mikey. You can't apologize for ruining the past four years of my life. Do you think saying sorry will make up for that? Do you remember grade eight Mikey? We were best friends. We told each other everything. We promised to be best friends forever. My dad died the summer after grade eight, did you know that? Or were you too busy worrying about yourself to notice? I realize I'm not cool enough for you anymore, but I am tired of being scared. I have been miserable for the past four years and you can't say sorry enough times to make up for the pain you put me through." That was the first time I'd ever fought back towards Mikey. He had put me through enough. I saw the fear in his eyes and I continued to point the gun. I knew I wouldn't shoot him. I just wanted to see him suffer for a couple minutes, just like I did for four years. I didn't know what to do next. I was just as scared as he was. Mikey finally spoke up and said, "James, where did you get a gun?" I shyly replied, "My mom keeps one locked up in case of an emergency." Mikey said, "James, we are sorry. Why don't we just forget this ever happened?" I considered his question carefully but it was too late. I started to bring the gun up to my head. It was time to see my dad again. All of a sudden I heard a voice say, "JAMES STOP!" It was Mr. Pickett. The one person I look up to. The one person I trust. I looked up slowly and saw the fear in his eyes. He looked into my eyes and genuinely said, "Don't do it James. You have so much to offer. You have the rest of your life to do great things." After that, he hugged me. He had never hugged me before and for the first time in a while, I felt safe. I felt like everything was going to be okay. He took the gun, led me to his office and then drove me home. When I walked into the door that night, my mom was in tears. She apologized over fifty times that night and kept repeating the same things, "I love you," "We are going to be okay." The school sent me down to a dude ranch in North Dakota for troubled teens. I spent the rest of high school there and I had more friends than I could ever imagine. In a way, even though my dad died, I think he has lived through Mr. Pickett. He saved my life. Mikey and his friends never made fun of anyone ever again. They learned that life is too short and everyone deserves to be happy. I have learned to never let anyone bother me. I am who I am and I truly believe that I will do great things. I love my mom, and I love myself. I was in the cafeteria at the ranch my last day there when a girl walked up and sat down beside me. She had wavy blonde hair and beautiful hazel eyes. When I looked up at her, I could see a sparkle in her eye. She smiled and said, "I'm Mercedes, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out sometime?" I smiled back and said, "I'd love to." Today, I am twenty years old and I live in North Dakota with my girlfriend, Mercedes. I love her so much. We live together on a farm. Our house is made out of a beautiful stone and we have a huge porch wrapped around our house that we sit on every night to watch the sunset. I am in university to become a psychologist. I decided that I wanted to help troubled teenagers. Although I don't have my life planned out, I know is that I am happy, and that is all that truly matters.
By: Randilynne Urslak