Stephen and Sharpies ~ Watty Awards 2012

Chapter Seventeen

    The Sharpie is gray and the title is simple. I have no idea what this Sharpie will be about except for it will be about the past. I don’t know if I want to read this. I take a look around and see that the other three are occupied, not caring what I am doing.

-Alec

    I chose gray for the earlier years for one reason. It is in between black and white, it is the color of simplicity. Our early years were easy, we knew each other just for a while and the rest of our early years were spent living without each other. I know it sounds bad that I am saying our lives were easier before knowing each other, but it isn’t. I am saying it was easier just not better. No matter what happens, life was better with you as a friend than if I never met you.

    Before I came to Stayton I lived in a small little town in Washington called Ellensburg. It was a pretty town, but I don’t miss it anymore. I used to, but then I got used to this place. I had three friends in Ellensburg and I was popular for a year or two. Then my dad got mean and I hid from everyone. I would scream if anyone touched me and I became an outcast. I never had to talk in class and I could do anything and never get in trouble. I turned in all my homework on time and got perfect grades. I lost my friends and nobody bothered me, I was a loner and I liked it. I had it made for a while.

    Finally in fourth grade my teacher took the extra step and asked me why I didn’t talk. I said I didn’t want to. She didn’t say anything more and turned away from me. Two days later I was being dragged to the school by my mom; my dad was long gone. My teacher had called for a parent teacher conference and Mom was mad. She took me anyways. My teacher talked about me not talking and discussed home. Mom just kept telling her it was none of her business and she respected that. After half an hour we left and when we got home I didn’t get dinner.

    The next day I tried to hide in the bathroom until recess was over and my teacher found me. Instead of excuses my breaking of rules she gave me day of lunch detention and told me to go outside. It was the first time it had ever happened. I went outside and sat by the door and read a book. When I got back to class my name was on the board for no recess for the next day. I was ashamed that everyone could see that I got in trouble. I never broke the rules again.

    My life sucked in Ellensburg, but it sure was easier than here.

    In sixth grade we moved and I met you…sort of. We were in all the same classes and I was always in the seat behind you because of our last names. I remember the back of your head like the back of my hand, I saw way too many times. You used to fidget in your seat all the time and it distracted me. The teachers always called on me because I would doodle; the answers were always right. I would have to do projects with people and I couldn’t hide in bathrooms. I got in trouble, a lot.

    In seventh grade we ended up in all the same classes again. Again I was always seated behind you. It was the same story except for I never got in trouble. I had learned how to fade into the background and I was also never called on. Life had gotten back to normal or so I thought, until eighth grade.

    In eighth grade I became the target for anyone popular. In P.E. my clothes were stolen and I would be wearing jeans for class. Of course the next day everything would be returned. I was always involuntarily volunteered to answer questions. I became visible, I became someone that everyone knew. I was known for one reason and only one, to be taunted and teased. Eighth grade was also the year I was beat up and you finally saw my pain.

    Now that was my early years, your turn. I don’t know much except for the things I was around for. In sixth grade you had horrible acne and you were avoided. No one talked to you except in math because you knew the answers, you were the smartest in the class; smarter than me. You were the biggest geek I ever knew, but you sure grew out of it. I remember one event specifically from that year.

    You had just gotten in line for lunch and I was right behind you, it is always that way. A kid walked up to you and kicked you in the shin.

    “Give me your lunch money,” the boy said to you. I had wanted to laugh at his words, I thought it only happened in movies and shows.

    “No.”

    “What did you say? I want your lunch money, give it up boy.”

    “No,” you said again. You were brave, the kid was huge and I mean in more than one way.

    The kid punched you in the gut and you coughed and then threw up all over the kid. He freaked put and then punched you again, in the face though. He walked away and you stood up straight wiping off the bit of liquid left on your face.

    “Are you okay,” I had asked.

    “Yeah, I always throw up after being punched in the stomach. The punch to the face wasn’t expected though.”

    “Well at least you stood up to him.” I gasped as you turned to me. “You have a black eye.

    “Great, this will be fun to explain to my mother.” You laugh half-heartily.

    I didn’t get to say anything else to you because you were next and entered the cafeteria. By the time I got inside you were already paying. It was one of those insignificant moments, but it was the first time we said anything to each other not school related.

    In seventh grade we talked about school work. You had gotten rid of your acne over the school year. Instead you replace acne with braces. You weren’t teased as much and your lunch money was safe especially since you brought lunch instead of buying it. I had done the same that year. You actually were on cross country that year and track. You were a definite runner, sprinting and long distance. You’re an athlete on the outside, a geek on the inside. No offense.

    Eighth grade you were only the guy who helped me out when the matter was over.

    You were my hero that year.

    You have always been my hero.

    You will be my hero forever.

-Stephen

    I finish the letter just as Gretchen walks in. She smiles and Abigail freezes at the sight of her. She’s drunk, horribly and completely drunk.