“They need to go. They need to leave. And if that means you must leave as well, then by all means — ”
“What is your problem, Tom?”
“Thomas.”
“Why can't you just accept them, Thomas? What have they ever done to offend you?”
“They couldn’t do anything because I avoid them. If I didn’t, I’d be dead. Now that you have given them access to me, just wait and see. Just wait.”
“Oh my God. You are so overdramatic! You are so paranoid. They are humans. They are kids just like me and just like you.”
“They are nothing like you! They will kill me the first chance they get. They are a walking stereotype! People like them feed off other's pain. They aren’t nice like you.”
“Oh, so now I’m nice?” he said with a smile.
“Go screw yourself.”
“That wasn’t very nice.”
“No, it wasn’t,” I said.
“Why can’t you just accept help?”
“I don’t need your help and I don’t need your pity.” There was a pause, then I continued. “Why me, huh? Why did you decide to sit with me? There are so many other lonely people in high school. People who would love to be helped by you. Why me?”
“Your table was closet,” he snapped.
We didn’t speak another word for the rest of lunch.
Thomas Hickory
YOU ARE READING
The Chronicles of Thomas Hickory
Genç KurguThomas Hickory is an average high school student dealing with lack of sleep, hard classes, crushes, and the hardships of Driver's Ed. Join him as he journalizes his life for the world to see.
