DISCONTINUED

Chp.1

Far above the teacher's brown, sturdy desk, hung a vintage clock, with golden arms to free humans of the burden of attempting to tell the time by looking at the searing sun. Almost no one in this teacher's class was interested in looking at this clock, trying to decode what the Roman Numerals meant. Looking at a digital watch was far better. Instead, this clock served a time pass for the students. A non-disruptive distraction for them, or a calming melody to listen to after completing a final exam.
One fine spring afternoon, however, fate had a different idea. Two emerald green eyes only barely hidden behind glasses, we're intently watching this vintage clock.
"Buddy, you good?"
"O-oh, Dan, you scared me!"
Parker snapped out of his trance to look at the tall structure behind him. Structure? No, human. Human? No, Daniel. Daniel? No, idiot.
It was true, Daniel was a massive, official, proclaimed idiot. It showed in the way he walked, talked, wrote, ate, slept, everything.
"Parker, me, Zoey and Becky. We're going to that-one-ice-cream-place-which-I-cannot-remember." Oh boy, but Daniel was talking about Dairy Cream Parlour, a small ice cream stand that was conveniently parked right beside the high school, even on rainy days. The baby blue and hot pink banners stretched around its freezer and umbrella stood of prominence against the green and beige of the surrounding scene.
Parker, the shorter male-who was MUCH shorter sitting like right now-forced and awkward smile and mumbled, "Sure.", before restoring his gaze towards the clock on the beige walls.
Daniel's Amber eyes darted from his friend to the circular clock, until the tension was on his nerves,
"Parker jeez!" he yelled, pulling the boy to his feet.
"Right, sorry.", Parker muttered, spinning in a circle to grab his orange backpack, then turning around again and marching towards the door.
Daniel watched the boy disappear in disbelief, then a sly grin crept onto his seemingly elastic face.
"Right"

The next morning, Parker sat on his bed, staring ahead at eh wallpaper surrounding his room. He tilted his head up, just a little, his gaze now fixed on a row of gleaming trophies that sat on a shelf, fastened to the wall. The shelf, not the trophies.
Teachers, mentors, tutors, and his parents. They all told him he was so talented. So... special. Parker couldn't grasp that fact that, despite the trophies, he did not feel talented. Not around his friends. Don't be ridiculous, everyone told him. But they were themselves, and he was himself. A major difference in a world full of nobodies. Is the person really talented if they didn't think so themselves? What was everyone on about?
As if on cue to stop the negative and pessimistic thoughts, a swirl of seawater filled his nose and mouth, turning them wet and unpleasantly salty.
Panicked, Parker forced his eyes open. Strangely, he had no memory of closing them. Parker was no longer safely on his bed, but in a body of water. His eyes widened as he struggled to breathe, fighting his way to the surface. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get to the top of the water, or the bottom of the situation. His gut told him to look down, so he did.
His eyes only widened more on horror. Parker's left ankle was caught onto seaweed. He dove down trying to free it, to free his ankle and swim to the surface.
Out of instinct, Parker let out a sigh, then froze, aware of the mistake he made. With his lungs no longer full of air, he gave up on the seaweed and swam up as far as he could. Parker's hand shot up, and he let his fear take over. His painful scream rand out through the salty, lukewarm water. Sucking in water, his body began to fail.
His eyes closed again, and his hand sank to his side. Parker drew a long breath, knowing his time was done.
Wait what?
Parker whipped his eyes open in confusion, he shouldn't be able to breathe-
Then it hit him like a lang of bricks, "You're STUPID!" written on each one.
Nightmares existed, and so did his mom, who was currently standing by his bed.
Her face wore an expression, not I-hope-my-son-is-okay, but what-the-actual-flip-did-I-raise.
With a feverish tone, the female standing by Parker's bed murmured, "It's Saturday, hi."