After struggling through my math, I fell asleep thinking of all the ways I could kill my step-father.

2

Monday morning, I woke as usual. I got out of bed and threw on some clothes that my mom had bought me at a yard sale. The jeans were too short, showing my ankle, and the shirt nearly showed the top of my jeans. Most of my clothes fit me wrong, but I rarely got new clothes.

I stuffed my books into my worn backpack and headed to the kitchen. We didn’t have much to choose from for breakfast. I settled for stale cereal. Would’ve been nice if we had milk, but we didn’t, so I washed it down with a glass of water and headed out the door.

I walked to school as I always did. It wasn’t far. About a mile. I could’ve ridden the bus, but two of those assholes rode the same bus and I didn’t want to be around them any more than I had to.

I slowed as I got closer to the school. I just didn’t know how many more times I could drag myself into that building.

Maybe if it was just the bullies I could handle it. Or if it was just my failing grades it wouldn’t be so bad. But it was both. And sometimes, it was just too much to bear.

I put my books in my locker and hung my backpack on the hook inside. My first class was basic Algebra with Mrs. Schmitz. I hated it. I never understood what the teacher was talking about. Maybe it was because she was German and had a funny accent. Or maybe it was because she was dyslexic and wrote half the problems on the board backwards. Either way, I was flunking.

I walked into the room, books in hand. There were already a few students in their seats. I knew immediately I was the subject of their conversation. It was obvious the way they looked at me and giggled.

Stupid girls.

I didn’t really care what they thought of me. I didn’t like any of them anyway. I only liked one girl, and she didn’t hang out with the gigglers.

I walked on to my seat, pretending not to notice their eyes following me. Just like every day.

I sat down and began doodling in my notebook. I paid no attention as the rest of the class filed in and took their seats. I barely paid attention when Mrs. Schmitz began talking about square roots. It wouldn’t have mattered if I gave her all my attention. I just didn’t get it. That was evident when she told us to pass our homework papers one person to the left to be graded.

My paper went to Carly Hanson, the one girl in the whole school I actually liked. I’d had a crush on her since we were in third grade. That’s why it was so embarrassing when she handed me back my paper. I’d missed twelve. That was out of a possible fifteen. Another F. But I still smiled when I saw that she’d wrote ‘sorry’ on the paper.

I looked at her and she smiled and shrugged. She was so pretty. I knew she’d never be with me, though. That’s why I’d never asked her out. I didn’t want to make her suffer the embarrassment and harassment she’d have to endure.

We were assigned more homework and released by the bell.

I returned to my locker and put my Algebra book in my backpack. I grabbed my English Lit book and made my way down the hall, through the crowd. I kept my head down as I walked, trying not to draw attention to myself. It almost worked.

“Hey, Boozer,” said Dominic Hawkins. The sound of his voice made my skin crawl, and not only because it had already changed. He’d been hassling me my whole life.

I kept walking, pretending not to hear him.

“I know you hear me, Boozer Loser,” Dominic said. He was closer now and I got the feeling he was following me. That was confirmed when he knocked the book from my hand.

I watched the book skid across the floor and get stepped on.

I reluctantly looked up into the faces of Dominic Hawkins and his cronies. The four of them stood there, staring at me and smirking.

Dominic towered over the other three. Puberty had hit him harder and earlier than the rest of us. His brother, Garrett, stood to his left, a year younger and a foot and a half shorter. I could tell he didn’t like Dominic much and didn’t want to hang around with him, but Dominic told him what to do and if he didn’t do it, he’d beat him up or tell their parents.

To Dominic’s right was his best friend, Taylor Reynolds. Taylor, who was a little taller than me, stood glaring at me, arms folded across his chest. He tried to look mean, but he didn’t need to try. He was mean. Always had been.

Beside Taylor was Spencer Griffin. He was short and heavy and wore braces, which gave him a lisp. The other three boys might’ve made fun of him if he didn’t do everything they said. If they said jump, he asked how high. He did whatever he could do to impress them and seem cool.

And they all stood there staring at me now, wicked smiles on all their faces except Garrett’s. He looked like he wanted to run away. So did I.

“You hear me the first time, Boozer?” Dominic asked.

I considered not answering, just picking up my book and going on to class. But I knew they wouldn’t let that happen.

“No,” I lied.

Dominic stepped closer to me, towering over me. “No what, Boozer?” His face was only inches from mine. This close, I could see the fuzz above his lip and I knew he’d had sausage for breakfast. Not only was there a piece still caught in his teeth, but the smell was potent.

“No, I didn’t hear you the first time.”

“He heard you,” said Taylor. Of course he’d agree with him. If Dominic said the world was flat, Taylor would back him up.

“I didn’t,” I said.

Dominic pushed me. “Maybe you need to clean out your ears. Or we’ll clean them out for you.”

The bell rang. Dominic shoved his finger into my forehead and the four of them walked away.

I grabbed my book off the floor and went to class.

Everyone was already seated when I walked into the room. They all stared at me when I walked in, but I was used to it. They’d been staring at me my whole life. It’d be weird if they stopped now.

I struggled through English Lit. I just didn’t get it. We were reading The Rhyme of the Ancient Sea Mariner. What did the albatross have to do with the story? And what was an ancient sea mariner anyway?

When Mrs. Wayne gave us a pop quiz, I knew I’d failed it. We didn’t grade it in class, but we didn’t have to. Out of the five questions we were asked, I knew the answers to none of them. But I knew I got my name right. Although, now that we’d passed the papers forward, I couldn’t even remember if I’d put my name on my paper. It wouldn’t be the first time.

I returned to my locker, hoping I wouldn’t run into Dominic or his buddies. I’d been trying to avoid them since Kindergarten. I was getting tired of it.

Luckily, I made it to my locker, switched my English Lit book for my History book, and made it to class without incident.

We had to take turns reading sections out loud. I hated it. I wasn’t good at reading. That wasn’t a surprise to anyone. I wasn’t good at anything. Except maybe pretending I didn’t hear the snickers and sneers as my classmates laughed at the way I stuttered and stammered while I read.

But I pushed through and was glad I’d had a short paragraph to read.

After History, I put my book in my locker and headed to Woodworking class. I didn’t drag my feet about getting there like I did to my other classes. It was one class I didn’t dread. I liked working with the wood. I liked the smell of the lumber, the hum of the lathe, and the feel of the tools in my hand.

It was one of only two classes I wasn’t flunking.

Plus, I shared my worktable with Carly. I had a lot of classes with her, but this was the one where we talked the most. You didn’t have to be too quiet in Woodworking.