Halfway Through the Scale

Introduction

Chapter One

It's the small talk heard from behind. Its a stab to the back, even when I don't know who it is. I can't make them stop because in the end, they are much more muscular than I am. More popular, more significant.
I can try to fit in, but for what? They still won't except me in this high school life. These high school expectations. If I burn myself to please them for a laugh, once I come out of it they will continue the charade to even further hurt myself. There is no need for me to try on one of their test, because they've already done the damage. I weigh 120 pounds, wear skinny jeans that still fit me too big, restless body where my ribs are visibly seen.

I inhale, and exhale profoundly. My attempt to forget. It's relinquished as they throw a three ring binder at my head. Not only does it distracts me but it kills me inside to not do anything about it. I lightly rub some of the pain off by gently placing my hand on my head. I remove it immediately when I feel the bump on the back of my head. The Jocks behind me begin to laugh. Not too loud however, for the teacher will hear. The binder is already next to my desk. I might as well keep it if that fucker thought it humorous it was to make a joke out of me. Let's see how funny it continues to be when I keep his binder for the upcoming test. I pick it up and place it underneath my belongings. I don't even look inside. For I know the contents will only anger me.
I continue to listen to the lecture but I hear that one, the owner of the binder call me out. "Hey Faggot, give me my fucken binder before I cut you open." He whispers to an extent where only I and his idiot friends can hear.

I sink lower in my seat. Trying to distract myself from this fucken place. "I don't want your fucken sperm all over it. So give it over!" He hisses.

It's at least causing something. He needs the binder, so why throw it at me?

"Is something going on here?" Mr. Blake addresses me and the Jocks. I nod but the Jocks are reluctant to get their way to make me look like the anorexic, troublesome boy in school.

"Yea Mr. Blake, he stole my binder." He pleads as a part of his act. "We were just playing around, but he hasn't given it back yet."

"Is this true?" Mr.Blake asks facing me.

"Yes, but only after he hit me with it." I mumble in a flat tone.

"Alright, Mr. Johnson, detention!"

"For what!" I yell at him in anger.

"As for Mr. Bell, to the principles office. Now!" Facing the Jock.

"He stole my binder!" He continues innocently with the sense that he is been put to trial unfairly.

"Either you escort yourself there, or security will." Mr.Blake is the type of teacher that should be best recognized as a professor. His intelligent skills in the anatomy of the human body is fascinating. Only it's the Jock that ruins everything.
He rises from his chair from behind and gathers his belongings. As he leaves, he approaches me and takes his binder coldly, throwing off my binders and folders. A shiver runs down my spine. Goosebumps form all over my body when he threatens my life with his facial expression and gestures.
I hate high school more than anything.