Seeds of Hate Read Free Page B

throat as I yelled, "Hello, hello!" and then pounded heavier between each word. It wouldn't take long. It didn't take long.
    Three,
    Two,
    One.
    And then I lost it.
    My voice screamed through the walls, up the stairs and spread out across campus. I began punching the door until the flesh on my knuckles became wet. My shirt soaked with anxiety.
    "Help! Help! Help!" I threw at the door. Each pound, each scrap against the wood broke me. It undid everything I had just accomplished. I would never be healed. I could never be healed.
    "Help! Help! Help!" I repeated in a trance. My knees took over for my hands as the blood became too slick. Pound. Pound. Pound. Help. Help. Help.
    I couldn't be locked in here. I had to get out.
    Pound. Pound. Pound. "Help! Help!"
    "Hello? Are you okay?" A worried voice spoke on the opposite side of my freedom. The door jiggled from the outside. Whoever it was, they better have the key.
    "Help! Help!" I screamed again as I kicked in the door one last time. My knee didn't stop though. It swung forward and took the rest of my body with it as I was thrown out and onto the black asphalt.
    I could breathe. I could relax.
    You're going to be okay. You're going to be okay. He's not here. He didn't do it.
    Black pebbled flooring ground into the sides of my cheek as dozens of feet surrounded my prone form. I moved to get up, but flinched at the contact of soft hands on my arm. Even with the pain, I scuttled away like a frightened mouse. Refusing help was easy. I saw Izzy out of the corner of my eye. He stood square and hard, his head cocked to the right with his hand on his cell. His mouth opened, but he said nothing.
    I moved with caution, trying to bring less attention to myself. This desire to blend in, however, was pointless. The blood dripping from my hands, my jeans gaping wide at the knees—it was confirmed, I was a freak.
    And then he appeared. The source of all my problems.
    "Jesus, Javi. Who the hell kicked your ass this time?" Nathan said with his left hand in his pocket and his right flung over the arm of some blonde. Casual confidence oozed from his stance and poured out into the crowd. His crowd.
    I wasn't witty. I didn't have a quick rebuttal or some brilliant jab to lower his esteem and remove the gawking eyes from my situation. So I did the one thing I told myself I would never do.
    I ran.

Chapter 4
    Kindergarten - The Past
    (Javier)

    It was my first day. I was nervous, but excited. My mama worked late so Lita from next door was walking me to school. I don't think her real name was Lita. I think it was Carmen, but everyone called her Lita. So I did too. Lita watched me when my mama was working or when she was sleeping, which was a lot. I didn't mind because Lita was nice, but today I wished my mama was here. I'd never been to school before. It would've been nice to have her. Just a hug before I left. A hand squeeze. I don't know. But Lita was nice, so it was okay.
    We entered the classroom and boy it was big. There were a ton of toys around and games and everyone had their own chair and desk. It was cool. Lita took me to the teacher and then handed me my bag.
    "This is your teacher, mijo. You'll be with her all day until your mother comes to pick you up. Okay?"
    I nodded and gave Lita a hug. She patted me on the head, said, "Have fun," and then left.
    A very tall lady with glasses bent down to talk to me. "You must be Javier. I'm Mrs. Milton."
    My mouth pulled up in an awkward smile. I knew it was awkward because it was the same smile I used whenever I met someone new. Mama told me so. I looked around, unsure of what to do next, until Mrs. Milton grabbed my bag and placed a hand on my back.
    "This is your seat for the year. Your desk mate will be Nathan," she said, sitting my bag on top and pulling out my chair.
    I took a seat and sat on my hands. There were name tags on every desk with stickers and colors decorating them. My feet tapped on the floor as I listened to the other kids talk. Some