The Boy With Weak Legs (Short Story)

Prologue: Miserable

My life sucks literally.

I know what you are thinking. 'You're just a spoiled brat. Grow up. The world does not evolve around you kid.' For starters I am aware of that, trust me I am.

But you know what I am talking about? My. Fucking. Legs.

When I first born the doctors realized my legs were not exactly fully developed. So when I reaching my walking stage, I could not stand properly. Every few seconds equal toppling over on my face. Take it from me, your main body parts as the weakest is not fun. Not fun at all.

Today was the day. The special day in every kids life. The day that makes kids socially depressed, angry, and sometimes commit suicide. Yes, its my first year as a freshman in high school.

Going into school as a physically disabled kid was possibly the worst thing in the world. Kids like me are victimized by others on a day to day base. Kids that feel far more superior than us. In certain terms that is true. But not all the way true. Disabled or not, I am still human just like the rest of population around the world.

My mum has been very protective as of late when she realized I had to go to high school. She tried to talk me into homeschooling and I did think about it at first. But then it struck me, I would have to see my mom pretty much everyday for three hours. I'm aware I see my mom for more than three hours, she's my mom!

What I'm talking about in those three hours are books. Lots and lots of books for three hundred and sixty-five days. That would be similar to college and I am not ready for that stage in my life yet. So public school was the best option.

Oh wow, I realized I have been talking so much about my problems and current crisis. I haven't even introduced myself.

Hi, Dante Steppeson, pleasure to meet your acquaintance. I am a small African American mixed with Caucasian boy. When I mean small, I talk about both height and weight. Due to my deformity, I sort of hunch over, making me seem shorter than I already am. At full height I stand at five foot seven, with my little hunch I am five foot five. As far as weight well, that is a different story. My metabolism is very high, I can eat a whole pizza by myself and you would think I haven't eaten still. I only weigh one hundred and thirteen pounds.

But enough about those attributes right? Let me explain the interesting parts. Being mixed does have its perks. I have a very light skin tone complexion, often leading people to assuming I may be Mexican when really, I am not. My hair is short and curly, eyebrows long and thick, eyes are light green, pink lips, and want to hear the best part? I have a British accent.

You heard me right, I have a British accent. Both my parents are from England but moved over to the U.S to have me. My way of speaking is a little more on the American side. Occasionally a few quotes like, 'Bloody Hell!' Or, 'Bloody Prick' will escape my lips.

"Dante? Are you sure you want to do this? You know I will quickly turn this car around and we can start homeschooling!" My mum said to me.

"Mum. I am sure okay? I want to do this." I replied back, "If anything goes wrong, I will be sure to let you know if anything happens mum." I looked over towards her and smiled. "Promise."

She smiled as she kept her eyes focused on the road in front of us. Her smile quickly turned to a frown, raising her right hand and pressing the car horn. "OI! MOVE YOU BLOODY PRICK! DRIVE LIKE YOU OWN THE FUCKING CAR! FUCKING HELL THESE PRICKS DRIVE MORE WORST THEN ENGLAND!" Now you see where I got the phrase, 'BLOODY PRICK!'

{.....}

I and me mum said our lovely goodbyes before I went off to school. Some tears were shedded and I convinced her I'll be okay. She actually cursed out another student for looking at me during the goodbyes.