The bell rings and I rush off to my first day of class. Three minutes early. Great. I have sweated through my shirt. Not great. It’s much hotter than it was in New York here in Wyoming. I feel like I’m gonna puke. I know how important first impressions are so I put on a phony smile, pretend I’m not nervous and sit at the one open seats near the front of the room. Right before the teacher starts talking, I hear that unforgettable voice-

“Hey, Sycamore,” somebody slurs from the back of the room.
I look over and can see him clearly. It’s Jason. I knew him from Summer Camp. He used to embarrass me in front the whole camp. He pantsed me during soccer. He broke my glasses. He thought it was all funny. He always used to tell lies about me too. He would tell them I was gay, and then he would tell the girls I had massive crushes on them. He ruined my summer camp experience, but my mom made me go for 6 years. How was it possible that he happened to live here? Life screws you over sometimes.
“Hey, Jason. Crazy seeing you hear.”
“Ditto.”
I hate that kid.
Jason has done it again. He convinced the whole school to believe that I’m an outcast. Everyone believes I’m a creep, but they barely know me. I want to fall asleep and when I wake up I will be far away from all my troubles. Life will be good, there will be no bullying or lies. I’ll get away, far away from here. I snap out of it. I need to stop dreaming. I decide talk to my Mom. I get up off my bed, rush downstairs where my mom lounges on the couch eating Doritos.
“Mom. I have something to talk to you about.”
“Yes?”
“Do you remember Jason?”
“Of course how could I forget!”
“Mom, he’s in my class.”
“Oh dear, this again?”
“Mom I can’t go to school, he’s ruining-”
“Stop it right there. You better be nice to that boy.”

Classic Mom. She doesn’t want to deal with my problems. She doesn’t want my depression to destroy her happiness. She loves it here and doesn’t want anything to change.  I still have to take action. I’m going to talk to him. I won’t let him get me down. I need to settle this.
“Hey! Jason!”
“Oh, god no.”
“You think you’re so great, huh?”
“Nah, I just think you suck.”
“Dude, why don’t you fight me like a man and stop the lies about me. You think you’re better? Well prove it.”
Right then he hits me square in the nose. His eyes look nervous, but I don’t care. I hit him in the gut twice and he winces, but still hits back. I then punch him two times, one in the neck and another in his chest. The teachers notice and run over. I’m immediately sent to the principals office.

Apparently I punched like a girl. Or at least that’s what he told the whole school. He says it didn’t hurt at all. Ugh. I can’t do anything right. Apparently he did nothing wrong. Everybody thinks I’m psycho. Maybe they’re right. Maybe I should be avoided. I saw a documentary once about somebody who used to have to pay kids his age a quarter to talk to him for a while. What I would give for a quarter right now. Maybe then kids would realize that I’m just like them. I want to pretend like I don’t care, but I cannot live like this. Certainly not for another 4 years.
“Mom, I need to see a therapist.”
“Honey, what have I told you. You don’t need anything.”
“Mom, I swear, I really need this.”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
“Wow, mom, this has been our longest conversation all week.”
“Oh be quiet, Ethan.”

I had seen enough of life. All that needed to be seen at least. I never had anybody who told me there was more. It wasn’t to be. Nothing was ever meant to be. Was I meant to go to that school? Was I supposed to die that day for some greater purpose or am I just another statistic? Am I a hero or am I a coward? I’m starting to believe that maybe all this was my fault. Maybe my mom was right. I guess none of it matters anymore, but then again nothing ever really matters does it? I mean, all of us are going to be gone someday.