The first day of school. By my definition it’s the first day of hell. Many people would say that’s an exaggeration, but many people haven’t gone through what I have. The taunting, the teasing, the slandering. And that’s all before the bell rings.
Only I just try to not to care. I have my strength, my dignity and the wrath of my mother if I lose my cool. So I just be myself and hope someone will like me. This is what I’ve been doing for the past seventeen years of my life.
Dragging myself out of bed I try to remember the mantra that my mom always tells me. Alec Gothman you are a beautiful boy who deserves to make friends with beautiful people. She said that to me the day that I cam crying home in from not making any friends. So I stick that mantra in my head and hope for a miracle that someone will, someday, like me for who I am and not for the rumors they hear.
Dressing for me is easy because I always wear one color- black. There may be splashes of red or green here or there, but black is my main color. I decided with a semi-formal black tux suit with a gray shirt underneath and regular black pants with black converse to complete my dark look.
“Alec, sweetheart, you’ve got forty minutes until the bus comes to pick you up. Do you want some breakfast?” my mother called.
I was slamming my feet down the stairs before she could finish her sentence. I slammed on the bottom steps and gave her a big smile.
She smirked. “I take that as a yes.”
I chuckled at her and kissed her cheek. I reached for the bacon, but she slapped my hand away.
“Feed Pebble first, then you can have your breakfast.” she scolded.
I rolled my eyes, playfully, and went over to my favorite person’s cage. Pebble was my pet bunny I got when I turned fourteen. Being as lonely as I am it’s kind of expected for me to have a pet. Most boys asked for an alligator or something that was big and macho. I just got a bunny- and an Amelanistic Burmese Python. His name is banana. I fed both of them and when I walked back to the kitchen I saw something out the window.
It was a girl. Dressed in all red; her pants, her shirt, her shoes, even her raven dark hair was a little red in it. She was absolutely captivating. She was sitting up against the old oak tree that used to belong to Old Man George. He was one of the only adults who actually liked me. And I was one of the few people who came to his funeral.
As I gazed at her, she started to look like one of the girls who I had met at school. Smart, but said they needed help with their homework. Graceful, but always tripping and falling. All for the attention of people, guys mainly. And that made me sick. Just as I turned to go back to the kitchen, she looked at me. And it was like I was frozen on the spot.
Looking at her face was so much more detail than her body. She was gorgeous. She lifted the corners of her mouth to what was supposed to be a smile. I just kept looking at her. Then she turned away and the spell was broken.
I turned quickly to my mother and saw that she was fixing my plate.
“You ok sweetheart? You look like you just saw a ghost.” she joked
“I feel like I did too.” was my only response.
So I had a crush on the girl. It’s not like she’d ever like me back. No one would want to date the town loner.

I walked to school. It was a hassle to take the bus, and my mom was always too busy to drive me. So walking two miles to get to a school that I didn’t’ even want to go to was how I spent my mornings. And every day it was the same. I would go out the door. Have a neighbor glare at me, walk to a Starbucks, get a coffee, have people stare at me, walk to school. The cycle has not been edited in two years. There’s really no chance for changing it really. Only if I ever get a social life and someone could drive me. Like that will ever happen.
But it did. Walking down a street, coffee in hand, I was listening to music that made me feel normal. I felt whole like that. Then a red, chevy cobalt came my way. I really hoped it wasn’t some jerk like Brad Stevenson who had egged my hair as he was driving by. Instead the car slowed to the speed that I was walking. I couldn’t see anything through the tinted windows, but I already knew who it was, even before she rolled down the window.
We looked at each other with confused eyes and wandering glances. Trying to see if the other person was safe or not. I would have kept walking even if she was going to give me a ride. Only when I looked at her again, I was captivated by her presence once again. Only now that she was closer it like a thick strong rope that was pulling me toward her. Before I even knew it, I was inches from her face, leaning over the window and looking directly into her eyes.
“Do you need a ride?” she asked. Her voice wavered. As if she was enraptured with me as I was with her.
“I’d love one.” I answered in a low tone. It sounded like a new person.
She shivered slightly, but I had a feeling like it had nothing to do with the cold. I opened the door and got in her car. I didn’t realize how monumental this moment should have been. I didn’t notice how her smile turned into one of achievement and pride. How simple it was for me to give up on a routine that I had been carrying on for two years now. What else would she change about me?

As she drove, I realized how much of a mistake this was. I didn’t even know this girl’s name and here she was giving me a ride to school? How did I know she wasn’t some kind of serial killer who killed depressing looking boys? Did she even know what school I was going to? Or was this just some master plan of hers? I was holding onto the seat for dear life, in hopes that my life would be spared.

That’s probably another reason why I’m a loner. I’m always so paranoid. No one wants to be friends with a paranoid freak. That and I also just tend to shy away from people. After being alienated for so long, it’s a little weird to have someone actually like me.

“So what’s your name?” she suddenly asked me.

“Alec.” I responded simply. This was good. Serial killers didn’t ask for names of their victims’ right?

“I’m Shay.” She murmured. I looked at her and noticed that her hands had suddenly tightened around her steering wheel. It was then that I noticed we were just a few blocks from the school. I could practically hear the insults getting ready.

“Listen, Shay, you don’t can just drop me off here.” I grumbled as my mood got from bad to worse. Just like those other girls. Only this one decided to give me a ride. Well if she didn’t want to be seen with me then maybe she should have used her brain and thought of that afterward. Maybe she was as dumb as she was pretty. In truth, I wished she was still a serial killer.

“Are you sure?” she wondered, “We’re only a few blocks from the school.”

“Positive. I wouldn’t want you to suffer your chances of being popular by hanging out with the town loner.” Before she could respond I was already out the door.

Why is it always too good to be true? Why? Just when I meet one girl- ONE GIRL- that seems to draw attention to me. And just when I think she might draw attention to me, of all people, it turns out that she is just one of those girls.
The girls, who drape themselves all over me in the libraries, yet don’t even acknowledge my existence in the hallways. The one’s who want to have “secret relationships” when in truth they just wanted someone to make out with, and no one knows about it.

I may sound like a girl saying this, but I don’t like being used. I’m not some tool you can just take on and off. I have feelings and emotions. Every day, in this hell hole we are forced to call high school, I get made fun of because I am different. How am I so different? Just because I wear darker clothes than most people, doesn’t mean that I am the spawn of Satan!

“Hey lookie here. If it the town freak. Hey I was passing your house the other day and I could have sworn that your room was on fire. Playing with those matches again?” The crowd of posers laughed and pointed their fingers at me.

“How do even know where I live.” I shouted at them. They became deathly silent. I had never said anything back to them, “Why don’t you come up with better insults that don’t come off like you’re just a bunch of stalkers.”

I walked into the building and tried to understand the feeling inside my body. It felt like a surge of . . . power. It quickly dropped when I noticed Shay. She was walking toward me, and I felt like all the guys were glaring at me -me! - about her coming toward me.

“You didn’t have to leave, you know?” as she gazed at me, I finally got the color of her eyes. They were grey, believe it or not. But they were misty and mysterious. The perfect way to describe her.

“I guess I didn’t.” the sound of my voice was low and a little foreign to me, “The administrative office is down the hall. I’ll see you around, Shay.”

I walked away from her then, leaving her speechless. I felt like such a jerk. I had accused her of the wrong thing. She was nice! But she was also gorgeous. Guys would line up on the spot to get near her. And if she was, by any slim chance, interested in me, it would just draw more attention to me. I hated being the town loner as is. I didn’t want people accusing me of paying for this type of thing.

It was a selfish thing to do, but it also wasn’t. I didn’t want to ruin her life the way mine was. I was the loner. The last thing that I wanted was Shay to be known as the loner’s girlfriend. Even if it was the very first thing that came to my mind when I first saw her.

The bane of one’s existence falls into the category of either embarrassment or complete and utter shame. Though none of that has specifically happened to me I’ve had the displeasure of watching things like this happen on a daily basis.
I don’t understand why people feel the need to broadcast other people’s embarrassments. It’s also one of the many reasons I stick to myself. Why can’t there be one honest person in a high school with the population of more than five-hundred students? Having to stick by myself is aggravating most times. I would like someone to confide with that isn’t my mother or my animals.
All these thoughts halted in my head when the bell for first period rang. Holding back the groan I walked to my class as students in neon colors and slightly excited facial expressions pushed passed me. My fist class was English. Since I had a mother who wrote poetry and made me have “words of the day” for six months, I’d say that my vocabulary was actually the only thing that I didn’t need to worry about this year.
I made it to the class just before the bell rang. Which was something I tried to avoid at all cost, because there would often be a handful of students that would stare at you as if you were the new IPod. This time I couldn’t hold back the groan, but in a low tone so no one could hear me.
“Move freak,” growled a Neanderthal. Next thing I know, I’m being pushed me into one of the desk so he could get past me.
“Mr. Rogers, good to see you haven’t lost your sensitive touch.” Spoke our teacher, “I’d hate to have to give you detention on your first day of school.”
Neanderthal Rogers stalked toward the end of classroom and took his seat, without one glance at the teacher.
“And what would your name be?” The teacher asked as I took my seat in the front.
“Alec Steven.” I spoke.
The teacher nodded but otherwise ignored me. Another thing that was odd about me- teachers didn’t really care what I did. I took notes, I took test-that I aced- and I answered questions. I was practically the smartest person in the school. Only no one cared. Not even the teachers. Everyone avoided me like the plague. It’s kind of pathetic when you can’t even hold your teachers attention for just a small conversation. They all thought that the only thing that I would talk about was probably skulls and crossbones, and songs about death.
I wanted to talk about things that actually made people think. I wanted people to want to think. But obviously our generation is filled with people who spend their lives through computers and have I-whatevers to think for them. When will people learn to rethink for themselves?
My mind went numb through the rest of the period until the bell rang. Then using the desk as my rest I got up and walked out of the classroom. Maybe the rest of my classes would be as numb as this one. One could only dream.
Then a weird thought came into my head. I wondered how Shay was doing in her classes. Don’t get me wrong it would be rude to want her to have a terrible first day of school, but when have I ever cared about such a thing. Especially for a girl that I didn’t even know that well. Maybe the numbing of the class would take over my thoughts of Shay. Just the sound of her name seemed to send shivers through me.
“Move freak!” exclaimed yet another Neanderthal.
Be numb.
Be numb.
Be numb.
Don’t be a loner.
The last thought scared me. Why would I try to change something that came naturally to me?

I always had my lunch in the library- minimal amount of teasing there. But not by much. No one tries to make fun of me on purpose, but I can hear the whispers and the giggles and the shocked gasp. That’s the one thing that I hate. People avoid me because of what they hear and think that it’s true. And their too scared to go to the source because they’re too busy avoiding me.
So I decided to do the only thing possible. Blast my music on my IPod. I need to go deaf so I won’t hear the insults. Many may think that that’s shallow; I call it my way of living. Sitting waiting an apple in the fiction section would probably be the highlight of my day. That is until I heard the sound of laughter even through my music.
“Shay, why did you want to come here again?”asks a slightly worried voice.
I would recognize it anywhere. Marie Thomson had it in for me the second I rejected her. Don’t get me wrong she was hot, but her head was filled with as much air and her chest. I like my girls’ real and smart- like Shay.
As if my world wasn’t self-destructive enough, I heard the sound of fluttering high heels coming my way. The only thing I had left in my bag for lunch was a pear. I set out the bag and waited for the shocker to arrive.
“So I was thinking maybe we could go to the mall on. . . WHAT are you doing here?” Marie’s sickening voice raised at least two octaves.
I tried not to acknowledge her presence, but she then started squealing to her friends about what a jerk I was to her last year. When the only thing I told her was to stop groping me under the table during computer science. Their shrill voices were probably making the librarians irritated, so I took it as my sign to leave.
Only Marie had one more parting gift for me.
“Good, he’s leaving. Well maybe you don’t have classes with him, Shay. He’s like the number one person on the sexual predators list.” Her cackles could be heard from the classes across the buildings.
I quickly stalked toward Marie in a bloodthirsty haste. But just as I was about to grab a fist load of her hair and tell her all about sexual predation I felt a hand on my chest. I looked, expecting a cop or one of the teachers, but instead I saw Shay. And she didn’t look disgusted or bored. She looked angry, but she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at Marie. I slowly moved her hand away from my chest and stole a glance at Marie.
She looked both shocked and disgusted. NO! This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. Have Shay do something nice for me so people could criticize her and tease her. I didn’t want that to happen because of me. I didn’t want it to happen PERIOD. My eyes blinked at hers and I realized that I was still griping her hand. I snatched it away like a hot potato.
Shay looked at me with slight tears in her eyes. This was one of the things that made me a good and a bad person. I had to sacrifice both out happiness for the greater good. I sounded freaking Buddha.
“I’m sorry, Shay.” I said the words before I even realized what I was saying.
“No. . . you’re not.”
Great. She hates me.

I decided to walk home from school. Figured it would be best for . . . her. What only made the day more satisfying is that the second that my feet were off school grown, it started drizzling. Then it started coming down harder. Then it was pouring. I didn’t see Shay’s car pass as I walked. But I couldn’t very well see anything with all the rain coming down on my head.

By the time I was home, my clothes were barely hanging on to me and my body felt like it was being dragged like a rag-doll. My mother had left the entire counter with chocolate chip cookies and small sign with “I’m sorry!” written all over it. I smiled. My mother knew how to brighten a teenage boy’s day.

Two hours later I had finished my homework, told my mom about my day-briefly I might add since she doesn’t like the fact that I’m anti-social- and was in the middle of a dreamless sleep. All I could see was black. Full on black that seemed to float me in a sea of never ending-

“WAKE UP!”

“I’m up, Ma!” I shouted instantly.

Then there were times when my mother would drive me to the brink of insanity.

“Alec there’s someone here to see you.”

“You know it’s not nice to lie to your son.” I grumble through my sleepy haze.

“Alec?” That voice wasn’t my mothers.

Now completely awake from my nap, I got up from my bed and walked toward the door. I didn’t even need to open the door to know who it was. But just when I was about to open it . . . I didn’t.

I backed away from the door slightly, and let out a shaky breath. This could be some kind of trick. Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to trust this girl. I really did. But maybe she would change me. I like the way that I am. Sure, my live consist of poetry, my mother and my animals, but that’s all I want. That’s all I need. If she entered my life then she would just tip the scale of the well balanced plan that I’ve kept in my life since I started elementary school- stay hidden. I can’t very well stay hidden with such a gorgeous girl by my side.

“Alec?” Shay’s voice tracked through the door, “I can go if you want me to.”

“NO!” YES!

What?

“I mean you can just open the door.” Or you can run from my house and save both of us the torture.

Ever so slowly she opened my bedroom door. I noticed that she had changed her outfit. Her hair was in a messy ponytail and you could see her eyes. Her skirt and tank top had been replaced with a faded pair of jeans and black graphic tee. She looked . . . normal.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

Words were something that came naturally to me, yet I could not think of a single one. I couldn’t think period. My brain was completely out of the building.

“Did you walk home?” she asked.

I winced. Should have known- she just came here to laugh at me for walking home in the pouring rain.

“Yeah, I did.”

“You didn’t need to. I would have driven you home.”

I looked up at her. What the heck was she doing? Did she not know me? I’M THE LONER! YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO LIKE ME OR TREAT ME LIKE I’M NOT CRAP!

“H-has the rain stopped?” I murmured.

“Yeah, why?”

We’re going somewhere.
“We’re going somewhere.”
“OK.”

There was an abandoned playground two miles away from my house. No one ever demolished it though. It just sat there waiting to cave in. I used to play inside of it when I was young. I found it when I was about nine. Some high school kids had called me a freak and I was running and crying. I hadn’t even realized I passed my house until I ran into a pole.

When I opened my eyes, it looked like a fairytale to me. An entire park that was just for me. There were places I didn’t dare go on to in fear for my life, but other than the hazards that was probably the highlight of my childhood. It was my sanctuary.

Now looking at it, it seemed like my worst nightmare. Over the years I stopped coming to my little sanctuary, because . . . I didn’t need it anymore. People started to not be interested in beating the snot out of me. Either that or I learned to not be affected by what they say. So when they left me alone (somewhat) I left the only place that seemed to have an impact on my life besides my actual home.

The park looked worse than it had before. It literally looked like it was dying slowly. The monkey bars were rusted and bending in the middle. The swings were either detached or gripping to the top of the set. And don’t even get me started on the graffiti. And now that I was her I felt like I had the world on my shoulders. Like the pressure of the entire park rested on my hands.

“Wow!” I heard Shay whisper.

I turned to her. She didn’t look disgusted and scared. She looked . . . awed – almost inspired.

“This place is completely, gorgeously haunted.” She murmured under her breath.

“You wanted to talk . . .” I couldn’t think of anything else to say to her.

“I want us to be friends, Alec.” she spoke softly, “Actual friends. Not secret friends or only-talk-through-notes-from-our-lockers friends either. Just-us friends would work fine with me.”

I almost smiled at her efforts. I wanted to be friends with her too. A strong part of me even wanted to be more than friends with her. But I couldn’t just make her the “loner’s only friend”. Only she willingly came to my house, walked with me to an abandoned house, and just begged for my friendship under her own free will. No one had ever gone this far for a prank. And I doubt that any of my abusers had the brain capacity to think of such a thing. So only one thing was left: she actually did want to be my friend.

“I would like to be your friend, Shay.” And I meant it with all my heart. “I really would.

I would have been stupid if I expected anything to be different at school. People would give me the odd looks like normal. The only difference would be if they had new insults. Only when I went back to school the next day, things were different.
The stares seemed to last a little longer than usual. The sneaky glances turned to glares. The small giggles seemed to be more sinister. When I made my way to my locker, I could feel eyes all along my back. It made me feel way too paranoid.
“WHAT!” I exploded when I closed my locker.
Then my main torturer since elementary school cam up to me – Ryan Cofellt.
“You know why they’re staring at you freak.” He spoke menacingly, “We all want to know what the new girl was doing with you yesterday. You gonna’ give her as an offering to your dad or something.”
The crowd surrounding us laughed, but I could tell that some of it was strained. Either they thought I was going to do something or Ryan was. I wanted nothing to do with this crowd. Why was it so hard for them to just leave me alone?
“Shay and I are just friends. Now will you-”
“That girl would never want to be friends with you! No one wants to be friends with you!” People started backing up slowly, when all I could see now was red, “You’re going to grow up and . . . wait for it . . . die. Alone.”
Then I saw black.
“THAT’S ENOUGH.”
Shay’s voice pulled me out of my reverie. I found myself shuddering against the hall lockers, covered in blood. My blood, before you get too worried. MY fists were bleeding and so was my nose. And I bet I had a few cuts on my head from the way it was throbbing.
“Shay. . .” I whispered weakly, “What happened?”
Shay’s eyes widened and she rushed over to me. She started patting my head gently, but it was still throbbing, so she just gently places it on my shoulder.
“I came in just in time to see what had happened. Someone was behind you hit you in the head with a pipe. I did whatever I could, really. I ran straight to the teachers and everything, but by the time I got back there was so much . . . blood.” her voice cracked at the end.
“I’m o.k., Shay,” besides the splitting headache and bloody knuckles, “I fine.”
She laughed through her tars and kissed my cheek.
Everything went pink. Then black again.

Such a feeling of gratitude I had for the person who invented pain medication. Otherwise I would be flailing around in my room like a fish out of water and onto a sharp porcupine’s back. But I hated how loosely I felt. I couldn’t concentrate on anything for more than five seconds and the worst of it- the word vomit.

Everyone comes to a time when they lose their filter and wind up saying things you wouldn’t even say in your head. Medication has made me lose mine. So in present tense I am locked up in a small room and with my on the ceiling staring at what would appear to be a loosely based picture of Shay.

“Pretty, Shay,” I murmur to the picture. “Shay is always so . . . pretty.”

I can barely understand myself with the slurred speech and dry mouth. Then I heard a giggle come from somewhere. It came from the direction of the picture. Oh, goodness, now I was going to hallucinate. That’s just gggreeeaaaaattt.
NO! I will not lose my mind to medication. Not like-
“My mom.” I whispered.
“Your mom had to step out a bit.” said a non familiar voice.
“Who-”
“Am I? I’m your nurse- Dominique Wilder at your service.” It may have been the medication, but I could have sworn that her voice slowed down when she said “at your service”.
“I need . . .” What did I need again? “I need my Pebble. And a banana. My banana.”
I smirked at my slurred speech for my animals.
Then I heard a whisper come to my ear.
“You really do have a banana Alec. Let me-”
Then my body started crawling into convulsions, as my head exploded and my entire body felt like it was ON FIRE! OH SWEET MOTHER! SOMEONE HELP ME!
Then it all went black again. Maybe that shouldn’t be my favorite color anymore.
I felt something furry touch my nose and then something slippery crawl across my foot. In my head I smiled because I couldn’t really deal with the pain of putting up a grin. I had started listening to the voices around me. Apparently my nurse had basically tried to drug me and probably try to sell my organs or something. Only in my life, I guess.
My mother came in right in time. This time I was able to get a smile to my face. It didn’t hurt too much. Pebble started to lick my nose and Banana had started to work his way to my stomach. They were both tickling me. But I didn’t want to concentrate on them at the moment. I heard voices. One of them sounded like Shay.
“So when will he be getting up.” Shay.
“Anytime he feels comfortable. I’m not sure how he can do that with those animals though.” Skittish Doctor.
“Well his animals always seem to relax him.” Mom, “And I think that we’re wasting our time talking about this. He’s already awake.”
“Isn’t that my surprise to tell Mama.” My voice drawled. I could make a country man jealous.
I felt strong arms wrap around my neck. And tears trickled down my cheek, though they weren’t my own.
“Welcome back to the world, Alec.” My mother said to me as the teary warmth left me.
“Hello world. Glad to have your punching bag back.” I joked bitterly, “Well guess what. I won’t be like that anymore. I will start to defend myself, because now I realize people are never going to stop. Let me make that difference. Let me . . . let me not be a loner anymore.”

I'm having a debate with myself to see if I should writie a sequel to Loner since it ends so abruptly. Plus there are so many ideas that i have for Alec and Shay and how their relationship develops. So a few comments will probably help me think this through.

Since the summer is over i have decided to make a sequel to loner. Its title "Out Loud". I will have it for it within in the month. In the meantimes try not to send me threatening messages.
(Just Kidding!!! I love how much you guys connected with my characters).