Damaged Read Free Page A

entered, his mannerisms awkward and tense. He sometimes played with the lint or change in his pockets to ease the anxiety. His heart beat so quickly that he was afraid everyone else could hear it. He just stood there, the only stagnate one amongst them all, and watched them slowly dissipate.
    "Hey, queer!" one kid whispered in his ear from behind.
    As Adam went to turn, the kid, a dark-complected boy with curly black hair, shoved him. Adam's head, in mid-rotation, flew forward. The boy, Ralph Donaldson, the quarterback for the football team, burst out laughing with his jocular buddies. To them, he was nothing more than a punching bag they needed for football practice.
    Adam, knowing immediately who it was, took off down the hall, not exactly running, not exactly walking. Some of the girls pointed at him and laughed.
    Now they noticed him.
    He was completely invisible until they teased him; then he was the show.
    ***
    The bell rang a few moments later. The halls were empty within seconds. You could have cracked a whip and the teenagers disappeared. Adam entered his homeroom class just in time.
    The teacher, Mrs. Gavin, a short, skinny middle-aged woman, was writing something on the chalkboard. Now she is a nice one, Adam thought. She had given him A's when he really had failed, and she once even patted him on his shoulder while he was doing a test.
    For those grateful gestures, Adam would have given her the shirt off his back.
    She smiled and set down the chalk. "Hey, Adam."
    Adam took his seat—his favorite in the house—the last one in the back row. Not one teenager in class turned to acknowledge him, the ghost among the living.
    Students broke the silence and chatted amongst each other while they waited for the first-period bell to ring. Everybody knew at least somebody in here, all except for Adam. He had one best friend who he'd known since kindergarten and one pretty good friend who he'd known since seventh grade. That was it. And none were in this room.
    Adam missed Junior High. Somewhat. There, the harassment wasn't quite as bad. It was tolerable. He sorely missed primary school, back when he knew everybody, had a whole classroom full of friends, got excellent grades, and was once, in fourth grade, hoisted off the ground by his peers when he scored the winning point in kickball.
    He sat here with a tiny grin on his face, thinking about that time... when anxiety did not exist.
    The world's a cruel place , he realized presently. The grin was no more.
    Mrs. Gavin watched him from her desk as he sat there, his face void of emotion. She, like a mother, wanted to break the shell that surrounded him only too much. There was something very genuine about this beautiful young man, despite the box in which he was trapped.
    Then, work calling, pity diminishing, she looked back down at the students' test papers and began to grade them.
    Less than ten minutes passed when the bell rang again. As soon as the door opened, noise filled the building. Teenagers deafened the place with laughter, chattering, hollering.
    Adam stood, threw his book-bag over his shoulder, and left the room. The halls of Blake High made him dizzy. There were far too many kids and way too narrow a path. And if you accidentally bumped into the wrong person, you would usually get knocked to the ground with a bloody nose. In addition, he feared their germs. He did not trust where any of them had been before their stinky breath or infected skin got too close to his. He didn't trust anything about any of them.
    He walked down the hall, through a maze of young men and women, head lowered and eyes switching from ground to eye level. One boy, a freckle-faced behemoth, looked at him like he was going to break him in two. Then a stubble-faced girl with short, close-cropped hair, looked at him like he was infected with AIDS.
    Their dirty looks hurt him every time.
    "Hey, what's up, shitface?" one deep voice roared from behind. Adam thought his days were over. He thought