It’s summer and here I am writing a story about my life, I do not want this to be another one of those cliché love stories that end in that predictable way. I am not that person; I am the one who sits in the back of your class reading that novel series that everyone finds dumb until the movie comes out, the one who would wear black vans to prom instead of the usually high heels that not even the most popular girl in the school could wear. I am the weird, I am the friendless, I am Carter Jean.
I grew up in this really small town called Jeffersonville, Florida, it’s not the cool part of Florida that everyone imagines when they fantasize about the sunshine state, this is central Florida; which is fine with me because truthfully I have no confidence to be wearing a swim suit and showing my body to the total population of Florida and any tourist that happens to be there that day. Truthfully if you peered into my closet all you would see is black, I have always liked the fact that black represented death, since for most of my life that’s all that was on my mind. To others this may be morbid but the religious thought on death entices me, the fact that a being so high would care about me, a lonely and bullied girl in Jeffersonville always comforted me in my deepest despair. My friends, who are predominately Atheist, find this belief of mine childish and think it is a fantasy made up by some mad man, I understand why they feel this way, religion is a hard thing for many to swallow, and naturally we as humans find faith an awkward topic to disgust, so I leave things in the air flowing around like autumn leaves, hoping one day what I hold most dear will come true and that my God will hold me close and make all the pain I feel right now go away, make me…normal.
“Move it freak!” I hear Kacy Klepinger yell from behind me; it is not that I am in her way or anything; it’s that I am at school today. She is one of the hundreds of ass wholes I face at this school every day of the school year, some I can’t even escape. It’s not that I blame them, I mean if I was a popular, honor roll, cheerleader I too would look down on the lesser class. High school is pure politics I am sure of it, I don’t think anything is based on grade anymore, it is based on the prettiest girl in the Junior class and “Oh my! Marcy is dating Josh again?!” and other stupidity I have heard spending my days roaming around the halls of Jeffersonville High School. It’s just that this was never cut for me you know? I don’t feel like I was meant to be here in this world, in this place at least. I want to travel Europe and see beautiful historic buildings and paint them. I want ever smart ass kid that has ever tormented me to eat their words and see me rise to the top, but for now I am stuck here listening to the latest gossip Bri Barker has to tell.
I wait by my locker for my friends to heard around me as we usually do I bet to other people we look really odd, a bunch of “freaks” they call us, I never understood why. I mean its 1983 you would think teenagers who wear black and listen to Sabbath would be more accepted, but not in Florida you are expected to wear pink and dress half naked, cause its “hot”. Well so is hell and you don’t see Satan complaining.
“You wanna ditch or what Carter? I am not in the mood to hear everyone’s problem today man.” I see Daniel and Lindsey stand there his arm around her shoulder, ew. Lindsey looks at me again waiting for a reply.
“I don’t know man, we ditched all last week, sooner or later they are going to call our parents or something.” I say tossing my bag over my shoulder. I see Josh and Matthew walk up, the whole gang all together.
“What are you dick heads talking about?” I hear Matthew say, he is always so sarcastic, but you get used to his hurtful words and realize it’s just the way he shows his love for you, sarcasm.
“We are trying to decide if we should skip out.” Said Daniel, he sounds high.
“WE ARE skipping today” said Lindsey obviously done with the subject matter of our conversation.
“But..” is all I got out before she grabbed my hand violently and lead me to the front doors of the school, Mrs. Hurston our school secretary could only get out “Where do you think your…” before Lindsey screamed, “Fuck off” and ran out of the door.
I have never been able to stand up for myself when it comes to Lindsey, she has always been that friend that told you what to do, when to do it, and how to do it. Oh, you want to disagree with her? She will beat the absolute shit out of you and not care one once that she did it. That’s just how she has always been. I don’t fault her on it, it’s all she has ever known. Her dad died about three years, shot himself in the head in their basement, but before that he was an abusive prick. He used to come home from the bar drunk and then search out one of her siblings or her and beat them until he was too tired to hit their butts anymore. Lindsey’s mother, Ann, always made excuses for him, trying to get her children to think this was normal, that all fathers come home at one in the morning and wake you out of your sleep just to beat you for five hours straight.
“Carter, get in the fucking car before I throw you in! The guys have already headed out!”
