Dear diary,
I wear certain jeans. Torn at the knees or folded up to my ankles. All my jeans are like that. Ruined and some are even blood stained from being pushed into the sidewalk by a certain group of kids at school . I try to stay away from them, but I walk home and they know where I live and how to get there. There's normally five of them.
Tod Erisen. One of the football players.
Jenna Steiner. His girlfriend. I think.
Eric Clyton. Tod's best friend. Also a football player.
Alex Mendes. The Student leadership representative.
And Ryle Street. I don't know anything about her, but I do know that she must have nag for dumping garbage on other girls at this school who have been accused for having sex. Even though everyone knows that the rumors aren't true.
All five of them hang in this huge group and act as if it's the only thing that this world needs. I say it belongs in hell. Not on earth.
They're the Dogs.
I call them that because they always find me, like a fox hound or an ugly pit bull. Like on the police shows they have on TV where the police are chasing some men through a forest and use dogs to find them. When the dogs do, they tackle the person and chew them up.
In this case, I am the person trying to make a living, and they are the dogs. Tackling and chewing.
Making me bleed.
Today was like that.
I had to walk home, like I do everyday, and all I heard was the sound of fire crackers sounding off in an ally that I always go down in order to reach my house sooner.
It's in between the bakers and the butchers who seem to be close friends and even buy eachother's food items. This isn't a bad town, it's just full of bad people, who happen to be my age of all ages. Not even my age, just my grade.
As I am walking down this ally, all I can think is, I am going to die. But then I remember that I can just turn around and run the other way because I know that there are people that way. All I have to do is scream and someone might help me. Might.
So that's what I dicided to do.
I turn around and begin to walk. Slowly I am heading back towards the sweet street of people and cars when I suddenly hear Satan (Tod Erisen) speak behind me.
"Isn't that the Soft Boy?"
And suddenly his loyal subjects all lock eyes on me like some kind of missile and begin their whispers and laughter.
That's when I begin to walk faster and faster. I am suddenly on some sort of treadmill, where I move my feet but my body itself doesn't move it's position. The street ahead is still millions of miles away and I don't think I'll ever catch it. Then they all start calling after me one by one.
"Hey Soft Boy wait up!"
"Yeah, why are you running!?"
"I've got something here for you! Wanna check it out?"
My first reaction is to yell something back. Something terrible that shouldn't be said by 12-year-olds.
Yet I am but a lowly boy who has no voice of his own. If I said something negative at all towards them, not only am I dead, but I am also letting them know that I can hear them. Which only mkes things worse for me.
Their barking continues and I begin to dash as fast as I can towards heaven. I look back only once to see Tod leading his dogs on my trail and I realize that this is a chase. I am a criminal. They are the hound dogs.
YOU ARE READING
Soft Boy
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