A to Z - 2. Noticed

May 2

Nope. Nobody noticed I was missing. I try hard to be invisible, and it works most of the time. It’s never a good thing to let other people know you’re there. If other kids in school see me, it’s because they want to make fun of the way I look or the way I’m dressed or something. If Dad takes notice of me, he’s either going to yell at me, or I’m going to get hit.

I am so glad for this chance to write stuff down. When I don’t understand things, I don’t really have anyone I trust to ask about them. There won’t be any answers, but it’s good to get thoughts out of your system so they don’t bug you all the time.

So, first question today: why is it that some people can’t seem to have a good day without making someone else feel like crap? At lunch in school, I sat down at my usual table, out of the way and on my own. A few minutes later, a few junior guys (I’m a sophomore) show up and tell me to get out. They weren’t really nice about it. It seems they needed the table for a big secret meeting they were going to have. There weren’t any other open tables, so I got to eat lunch outside by the main doors.

Second question: why is it the people who look like they should be safe and nice are really the nastiest of the bunch? Last year, there was this blond kid who had the whole package. Perfect hair, bright white smile, golden tan, stylish shirt – absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t help wanting the fairytale – we’d hang out, talk about books, maybe play ball or something – we’d be friends. I fell for it, and allowed myself to be visible. I sat near him at lunch, and spoke up in classes, so maybe he’d notice me a little.

Fairy tales aren’t for real. He made sure to make fun of my uncut hair, and my worn-out thrift store clothes. He carefully and loudly pointed out these and all my other shortcomings to his popular friends, too. It took them six weeks to get tired of me as their target. I went back to perfecting my camouflage and invisibility.

Then there’s Uncle Ray. He’s Dad’s younger brother, I think. He’s a handsome, rugged, good-looking guy – at least, that’s what he seemed like on the outside. He smiled a lot and had this big, hearty laugh. When I was a kid, he’d come to visit, and he’d want to play with me, and take me to the park and stuff. At the time, I thought it was cool. It wasn’t until I was a little older that I noticed his eyes got this really creepy look, like he’s a big cat, and you’re the mouse trapped in the corner.

Uncle Ray came to visit not too long before Mom left home. I still remember him, looking at me with his creepy eyes, grabbing me and pulling me onto his lap - so he could read me a bedtime story, he said. He kept shifting me around in his lap, and it got him all hard. I could feel it poking me through my PJs. I didn’t know what it all meant – I mean, I was only eight years old – but it scared me, and I wanted to get out. Luckily, Mom somehow saw what was happening, and scooped me up and put me to bed.

I don’t want to think anymore about Uncle Ray – it just hurts to remember.

But I know that Mom and Dad fought about Uncle Ray. I heard them yelling about his visits. They were arguing a lot back then, and I can still hear Mom shouting that she wouldn’t have Uncle Ray in the house. I also remember Dad yelling that he wouldn’t turn away his own flesh and blood, and that Mom would damn well welcome Ray the next time he came to visit – or else.

I hid under my blankets and covered my ears after that, because the fight got really ugly.

Uncle Ray came to stay at the house for a whole month after Mom went away. He’d come to stay, he said. Said he was there to comfort Dad and his poor, motherless child. I was miserable then, and I don’t want to think about those weeks. Uncle Ray still haunts my nightmares. Then, like Mom, he disappeared one day. No explanation from Dad, nothing. Just gone.

I didn’t see Uncle Ray again until he visited for a couple of nights last year. He looked like he’d had a tough time between visits. He’d kept his ruggedness, but he seemed a lot older somehow. Said he was between jobs or something. Still the same creepy eyes, still looking at me like a tasty piece of meat. I blocked my door with him in the house. You just can’t trust a good-looking man with a nice smile.

Or take that group of juniors today. Their leader was a pretty good-looking guy. He has a nice smile and seems to laugh a lot when I see him at lunch. Good guy right?

Fat chance.

He came up to me, flashed this fake smile and said:

“Hey pipsqueak, me and my friends need this table. Get lost.”

It wasn’t a request, it was an order. There really wasn’t much to say. His friends were there to back him up, and what could I do? Still, I was too slow to reply, because he bent down his head closer to mine and whispered:

“I’ll give you ten seconds, you little shit. If you don’t move, we’ll stomp your sorry little rat face into the ground the minute school gets out, got that?”

I moved.

Third question: why do I care what that guy thinks about me? He was an asshole to me, but I swear I was ready to apologize and grovel. I just wanted him to like me. Why? It’s not about getting along. I can get along fine, and I avoid getting beaten up nearly every time. But when I let myself think about making a friend – which isn’t very often – it’s always some boy I want to get to know. When I have some kind of fantasy, I think about a good looking guy – not a girl. You get it? Not that any of the girls at school are interested in me at all. There is so much about me I wish was different, and that’s just one more thing.

It all goes back to what someone deserves or doesn’t. Dad is probably right, and it seems that God – if there is one – agrees. I’m one of the bits of cosmic waste in this world. I get in the way and screw things up. After all the things I do wrong and all the problems I cause, I get what I deserve when I get hurt.

In history class, we studied about religions that believe you come back as something else after you die in another life. If you did good, you came back as a higher being – if you sinned, you came back as something lower. Next time, I think I’m coming back as one of those shiny, black bugs everyone steps on as soon as they see it.

May 5

James Ackerman. That’s the name of the junior who kicked me out of my table. The really hot junior who kicked me out of my table. The hot, asshole junior who noticed me again today. Not in a good way.

The bodycheck into my locker was no mistake, despite the “Oops, sorry, ratface,” apology. The shit-eating grin on his face was kind of a giveaway. "Bad luck."

Just my bad luck that I can't stop looking at a hot guy. Just my bad luck that good looking boys and I don't mix. We have a terrible history.

So it was just my usual bad luck that I was coming out of the locker room after Gym class as James Ackerman was coming in. I hate locker rooms and gym showers. I either run late or leave really early from Gym class if I can slip away in time. I never, ever let anyone see me changing – people ask stupid questions about the marks on my back if I do. Sometimes I hide out in the toilet stall to change so that nobody sees. This time, I was late.

He was wearing a letterman’s jacket and I caught his name embroidered on it, just before I caught a fist to the gut.

“What are doing in here, ratface? Hanging out to spy on real men?” He hauled me up by my hoodie so he could look me in the eye.

“Do you get your rocks off looking at other guys, ratface? Huh?”

Now was definitely not the time to admit the truth. It was all I could do to shake my head. He threw me back against the wall, and I slid to the floor. He bent down over me, and I tried to back away from his beautiful, terrible face.

He wasn’t smiling his model’s smile now.

“I never, ever, want to see your pansy-faced, faggoty ass in this locker room again, got that ratface? Now get out.”

Then James Ackerman, that very hot, very nasty junior, aimed a pretty good kick at my midsection. He must be a soccer player or something.

Anyhow, I got out.

Why is it that the beautiful people are so nasty? They fool you with their good looks, but their hearts are evil.

So now I have to find a way to become invisible to James Ackerman, or stay out of his way.