Secrets-Im so sorry but it had to be done 1

There was once a school that was friendly. A little all too friendly. That was my school. You would think a school doesn't exist where everyone's close. Too fat, big nose, players, those kinds of people. You think it would be pretty cool to have a school like that, where protection is huge. Nobody gets beat up, called names, or shunned.  

In my school, you don't run off into a clique. Cover up who you really are, or hide.  

If you do two of those three things, then you end up where I am right now. But I don't really know where I am, or where I'll be next. I keep moving. But only building to building, School's guidance office, to home, to therapy, to police stations, to home, to court, back home, then the cycle repeats. I don't even go to the grocery store!  

It's not what you're thinking. I did not run into a crack house, and steal two pounds of meth. Or murder somebody, and blame my brother. Though I may as have. I stood by and let it happen. Then I told the cops I knew nothing about it. 

But I think I'm ready to tell the full truth now. I just hope somebody is willing to listen.

      "Max. Max, wake up!" my head lifted up off of the floor. I rolled to my back to see my little brother Christian over me.  

"What do you want?" I snapped pushing him off of me. He fell back with a thump. He head went back to fast to catch, causing it to crack against my desk.

"Are you all right?" I rushed for him. Me hurting him wasn't intentional. I love him greatly. You don't even have to look deep down. Christian nodded a yes, trying to be brave but I could see his eyes welling up, and cheeks reddening.

"We don't have to tell mama." He croaked.

"Chris-"

"I don't want you to get in trouble. I know it was an accident. Everyone gets cranky. He was silently sobbing. "Mom...wants...you...down...st-st-stairs. He stuttered taking deep breaths.

I threw him on my bed, and clicked on my TV. He sat quietly, calming down as I got dressed. My stomach was churning, as it normally does when I'm about to get talked to. If I have no idea what it's about, the anxiety is worse than when I know I'm going to get yelled at.

     I went over to my underwear draw and pulled out two dollars. I gave them to Christian, even if he did tell.

We walked out to the hallway together, but I turned to go downstairs and Chris turned to his room. I walk down the stairs, past the kitchen, through the living room to get to the family room. My mom was sitting in her rocking chair, and my dad was right behind her. I expected to see mad or even somber faces. They weren't. I don't think they were even happy. Maybe confused? I know I was. Did my parents even have expressions for a moment?

"Mom? Dad? Uh, Christian said you had to talk to me." It seemed that my voice had made them snap out of their mindless state.

"Max-"  

"Am I in trouble?" I interrupted. 

"Did you do anything?" My dad asked. 

"No. That's why I was curious. The truth is: I did so something. Well, a lot of things. I really didn't want to be caught.  

"Anyways," My mother continued. "Max, we should really talk about your dreams." 

"Well, I really want to be a writer, or an artist. Maybe even a waiter!" 

"No, no, sweetie. I mean night dreams. Like last night your brother had a dream where he road sheep to school, and it then handed him a pet cat."