Meet Charlie

(2) They're All Dead Anyway

Charlie's POV

"Charlie?"

"Mr Foster?" 

"Mr Foster!"

"Hm?" I hummed.

I looked up. I saw the frustrated, ageing face of the teacher who was giving me my 4th lecture today. What was her name again? Miss Fuller or Faller or something. It doesn't matter.

"Yes Miss?" I asked, as I was interrupted whilst doing my art which I didn't take kindly.

"Your assessment?" the teacher said whilst out stretching her hand, waiting for me to hand it to her. Why was she asking? I thought. She already knows that I haven't done it so she's obviously trying to rub in one of my many failures of life. Stupid assessment. Who the hell cares about the English Civil War nowadays? They're all dead anyway so what's the point?

"Did you do the assessment Charlie, or were you yet again too lazy to even try?" I could see the smug look on her face as if she thought she finally won the argument.

"Miss, I think that you're the lazy one here. Why don't you make an effort to teach us something worth our time?" I could see the teacher's expression drop.

"And no I wasn't lazy, I just thought it was too pointless to even consider doing since it would do nothing to help me out in life, whatsoever." I heard a few laughs throughout the class and I knew that I had at least pushed her over the edge judging by her expression towering over me.

"Well Mr Foster, if you don't do these assessments then you won't have a life at all. Now go to the isolation room please." The teacher then straightened and continued collecting in assessments. Isolation just for that?

"So we have to prove that we can do something so pointless that won't help us out in modern life...in order to actually live a good lifestyle for ourselves?"I pressed further.

"Isolation please, Mr Foster. I don't want to have to ask again." She grew slowly more inpatient.

"I don't think it's fair to put me in isolation just for saying my opinion. You do encourage us to say what we think in this school after all." I could practically feel the anger rising inside of her. And it was very amusing.

"Only if the opinions are fair Mr Foster and judging by the kind of vocabulary and tone you are using with me as a teacher, your opinion should not be taken kindly."

"Bull-"

"CHARLIE FOSTER, ISOLATION ROOM NOW!" Bad mistake. You see, that's what I wanted. To get out of the classroom and onto the roof where I usually go when I'm sent out (after I pestered the teacher enough until I got bored of course). It's the only place where I can escape from the torment that is this planet and the people that live on it. I try to escape during class whilst doodling in my notebook, but somehow it isn't the same. I still feel trapped in a box filled with people's expectations and opinions. All of the dissaproving words I've ever been called or told about with are with me. And they never leave me alone. Not once.

On the roof I feel different. I don't feel like a boy with millions of expectations piled on top of me. I just feel. Free. Free of everything in the world. Like people's dissaproving opinions and words that have haunted me my entire life ever since I started being 'different'. I can look out into the city and think about life in a different prospective. I would think about the world if it was better. If society wasn't so judgemental and constantly looking down on people who they think are weak. Who won't be strong or brave enough to stand up for themselves. That's my definition of a perfect world. Non-judgemental. If people weren't so judgemental and down right horrible, suicide deaths or self harming never would have existed. People would have been happy to be living and to be them.

With a grin, I picked up my belongings and said one word that I've been dying to say all day for that one little reason.

"Gladly"

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