MISSPELED

Enough is when you run out of stars.

— You know? Dying doesn't hurt, not like living.
— What is that supposed to mean, Pope?
— I don't really know. My grandpa used to say this to me when I got into fights. — He finished putting the last bandaid on my knuckles.— Right after saying that fights do not solve things.
— I was not trying to solve anything. I was trying to make her shut the fuck up.
— What could a twelve year old say that would hurt you so much? — "Does your father hitted you too much or you are just weird like this all the time, tranny?"
— Nothing, she said nothing.
— She said nothing but you needed to shut her up?
— I said she said nothing not that she was quiet. — Pope laughed, pulling a chair to sit in front of me.
— Don't you think all this rage, despite whatever shit she said, comes from not knowing how to externalize your feelings? Like what you think and want to say about things?
— I was not build up to emotional conversations, Pope. Just say that i fucked up and let me go.
— Yeah, you fucked up. You really fucked up and if it was not because of me you were going to end up in juvenile for assault.
— It was self defense!
— Against words?!
— Psychological torture and abuse!
— And you think your mom would've had money to get a lawyer that make this seem credible?
— It was the truth!
— No one cares for truth! They care for what person threw up the first punch!
— Well, in this case I'm guilty.
— I'm not fucking kidding. Or you talk to me about what is going on or we are gonna have problems. Don't you trust me?! Don't you know that you can say whatever you want to me?
— She called... — I swallowed hard, feeling tears well up in my eyes. — She called me tranny, Pope.
— And why that affect you so much? You are a beautiful girl she is just jealous tha...— He stopped for what seemed eternity looking at my tears rolling down. — You are not a girl, are you? — I denied, looking away.

— You know that this is your fault, don't you?! — Mom? The white lights were blurred, the beeps echoing in the room with the voices, the fabric of the sheet was like silk, slipery, cold. I was not cold anymore.
— Really, Lucienne? You are gonna do this for real?
— Really Casey! What the fuck?! This is my daughter! You put her into this in the first place!
— I gave him a way of expressing himself! Of saying things when people wouldn't listen when YOU would not listen to him!
— HER! It's her! Stop acting like this madness is reality!
— You really don't see him, do you? He was never your daughter, he just thought  he could be. But he can't. He is not Ella, he never was. He is Carter.
— Carter? As your grandpa's name? And you want me to believe that you have nothing to do with it?! — No, it's fading, it's going again.

— You were so concerned that i would go end up in Juvies. Why out of suddenly you got this idea?
— I was concerned that you were charged with assault. And I'm gonna be here with you, I'm not gonna let you get arrested. Come'on have some faith on me. — He mocked, putting the bag with spray cans on the floor.
— I have faith on you, i don't have faith on my legs. Have you already seen me running?
— Yup, you look like a duck that falled of a poultry farm truck. You know? That ducks that pass they're entire life's in micro cages without moving. You run exactly how i imagine them running.
— EXACTLY!
— But you need to express yourself. Talk your shit out to the world and make people listen even tho they don't know it comes from you. And this is the best way i know, El.
— El? — He picked up the blue can, changing the cap.
— I don't know how to call you, kid. I thought El would be better than Ella. And honestly you never looked like an Ella to me. — I smiled.
— I was thinking about changing my name to Carter.
— Carter?
— Yeah, like your grandpa, you know that's your grandpa name don't you?
— No shit, Sherlock, really? Why Carter?
— Well, i remember that day on Halloween when i falled of my skate and my Michael Myers mask got all screwed and he sewed another one for me, not a Michael Myers but a really scary one. He promised to not tell y'all that i falled cause he knew my mom wouldn't let me skate again. And he was always hiding my shit. Like when i broke that old clock, of my grandma. He had my back.
— You broke the clock? I knew no one had steal it! It doesn't make sense stealing that old shit and living that amount of jewelry behind!
— Yeah, it was me with a baseball bat and my skate.
— How?!
— I was pretending i was a pirate and the bat was the ship sails... It doesn't matter! That old man always had my back, my partner in crime you know? We even stole the candy's from the nurses room when he had to go to that asylum.
— I know, i got the bill! Your mom can never know this!
— i know and i miss him. I think if i go by his name, i will have at least a little part of him with me, you know? I asked him, before he was gone.
— He called you little boy because he knew? All this time he knew it? He was not just senile?
— No, he knew. He knew before me i think.  He was the only one that always got my Christmas gifts right even before i told him.
— That old man... Never thought he would've hide things from me!
— Oh, what can I say? I was his favourite!
— Oh shut the fuck up, Carter! — He smiled. — Damn, that sounds good. Crap you look a lot like him, you know? Just missing the bald head and the gold grills.
— Oh shut up!