I am glad to present my first short story (hopefully you will see more). I have to warn anyone reading this that there is some vulgar language, not because i like swearing but it is a part of writing. It shows what/how the character is feeling and it makes the dialouge more realistic, i dont want to give away too much but i have to say my english teacher LOVED it and he hasnt said too much about my other writing so far this year, so enjoy.
THE LITTLE SHELL THEY KEEP OVER THEMSELVES
By: Kevin Dygart
An alarm has got to be one of the worst sounds ever. Not only is it annoying as hell, but to me it just reminds me that I have to live another day of this shitty thing they call life that feels like hell to me, oh how I wish it would just end, I guess I don’t dislike it enough to end it myself but the way I am treated by them just makes me wish they would all just go away be assholes to each other but leave me alone, maybe give me some time to get better, or just change or something because the way they’re living now ain’t good for their health; they’re messing me up, and I can’t think that what’s happening to me is not happening to other people, it just hurts I mean-
“Jason get your lazy ass out of bed; don’t make me get your dad!”
“Do you hear her Bruno?” I like to talk to my dog. “She calls me lazy, she’s the fat bitch who sits around drinking all day thinking I’m her fuckin’ slave or something, I give a shit what she thinks or wants.”
“Jason if you’re late for school your life’s not gonna be very fun while you’re living here.”
“Yeah mom, I got it.” I yelled back. Does she really think that she can make my life that much worse; she’s just like the rest of them. I grabbed my bag and made my way downstairs, of course when I got down there she just started nagging me again.
“Jason, I’m sick of having to yell at you every morning, you’re-
“-Mom”, I jumped in, “I get up every morning, you’re just always too drunk to hear my alarm”
“How dare you call me dru… dru…”, her voice lowered and trailed off as she proceeded to puke all over the kitchen table.
“Oh yea, you’re not drunk you’re just still hung over from 3 nights ago, sorry, I forgot.” I said sarcastically. “I hope you’re still with it enough to clean this mess up.” I turned and walked out. “I can’t believe she still tries to convince me that she’s not drunk, he and my dad are probably the two of the biggest drunkards I’ve ever known.” I said to myself as I walked out to my car.
When I got to school I did my normal thing, walked quickly to 1st hour not talking to any of them, who ever would? I sat in class before the bell rang and wondered how and why they talk to each other, don’t they know that after school they all go and gossip about each other, even if they think they’re friends, I know how everything works; I used to be part of the “popular” crowd I guess you could say, I used to think I had friends, friends that you could trust, friends that wouldn’t go behind you’re back and have sex with your girlfriend, then again that is all what I thought until that day when my so called girlfriend came up to me and said, well, don’t think we can be friends anymore, you didn’t really satisfy me so I went and had sex with Rick (who I thought was my best friend, but then again that’s what I thought).
At that time I basically wanted to go and kill both of them bastards, and frankly I don’t know why I didn’t, I just decided from that day on I would never again associate with any of them. That night I burned all my clothes, all my Abercrombie, Hollister bull shit and have since worn black jeans and my Black Label Society t-shirt everyday along with shaving my head and swearing to never cut it again to show them that I’m different and I will never do anything that they do. I’ll never smoke, drink, party or do any of that shit again because that’s what they do, and I’ll never be like them fuckin’ assholes again. In doing this I’ve been given a nick name, Black Jason, which is fine with me because it just separates me even more from them.
As I sit here in first hour they make their way in, people who at one point in my life I would have said hey to, but now I ignore them and they do the same to me. Some days they just decide to pick on me, for whatever reason I don’t really give a shit, sometimes I’ll talk back, sometimes I’ll ignore them.
“Hey Black Jason.”
“What?”
“You stink, oh yeah, that’s right, it’s cause you don’t change ur clothes.”
“Well, I’d rather not change my clothes than not change my life and continue to be a complete asshole like some people I know.” I’ll usually get my one good comeback in then ignore them.
I basically go throughout the day without saying a word, just trying to get from class to class without having to run into people who want to have “pick on Jason parties”. Today was no different, I made my way through the morning, some of them teased me but nothing special. I made it all the way to 5th hour; History.
History is the highlight of my day, highlight of my life; maybe the only reason I haven’t killed myself. I sat down just before the bell rang. Mr. Smythe wasted no time before he asked us to bring our assignments to the front. When I made my way up he asked me to stay after class for a minute, I said ok. He then proceeded through the day’s lesson until the bell rang. Most of them rushed out except for me and a few other students who tried to tell the old dog ate my assignment story. After they left it was just me and him. Usually if a teacher asked me to stay after I either wouldn’t or just stand there and act like I was listening, but with Mr. Smythe it was different. At the beginning of the year I looked at him the same as any other teacher with complete disrespect, not caring about anything they had to say because to me teachers are no different from any of them. But Mr. Smythe wasn’t any other teacher, he wasn’t any other one of them, he was different for sure.
After a few weeks of listening to Mr. Smythe talk about these things he had called “The Big Ones”; questions that he thought got us thinking about real issues in life. I realized he wasn’t like the rest of them. He actually cared about stuff, he didn’t seem to have this fake shell over him, the one most people have to hide the real them, they keep the shell so that everyone else can’t see their deep secrets, because it would ruin their “reputation”, well I could care less about them and their reputation, their reputation means nothing in the real world, the world Mr. Smythe and I live in, the world where its not about “popularity” or “reputations”, the world that where truth and righteousness prevail, the world that “the world” will never be like.
“Jason.” He said.
“Yeah?” I replied
“Remember when you asked me to write a letter of recommendation?”
“Yeah that was a pretty good joke huh?”
“I took it seriously.” He handed me the letter.
I began reading it, “Oh, I get it, you wrote the letter as a joke, you wrote here ‘One of the best students I’ve ever had’, that’s a good one.”
“I never said it was a joke.”
“You got me, no need to take the joke farther.”
“I’m not joking, I am ready to help you try and get accepted into college.”
“Mr. Smythe, the thought of college never has crossed my mind.”
“And I think that’s the problem”
“What’s the problem?”
“If the thought had crossed your mind you would have the problem of trying to get accepted, but right now you are just continuing the problem that our country is facing, none of the young people want to go to college. If you want to go to college I can get you there, don’t give my ‘Oh, I don’t have any money’, that’s not an issue, the real issue is what college do you want to go to.”
“Well obviously I haven’t thought too much about it, so-“
“-So what, come back to my room after school and we’ll have a good talk about it.”
“I’m sorry. I respect you more than anyone. I mean anyone. I just can’t trust anyone. This may be a joke. I don’t know. I just know betrayal. I’ve been betrayed. Lied to. I can’t trust anyone. I can’t trust them.
“I’m sorry to hear that, but-“
“-But nothing.” I walked out.
For the next 3 months he asked me everyday if I wanted to talk about college, I told him no everyday, I began to see him as one of them, thinking that he probably just wanted to send me to college so he could feel good about himself, feel he had accomplished something all for himself and the more I saw it this way the worse he made it every time he asked me, I just saw it as him trying to please himself by being able to say that he turned some weird goth kid into a college graduate, he even started walking up to me in the hallway to ask me, he was just trying too hard. I started to become very upset with the situation. I dwelled on the fact that he was selfish and lost more and more respect for him, until one day.
I got home from school and my mom handed me an envelope, return address; Michigan State University. I felt my stomach drop. No air left my lungs. Was this really what I thought it was? I ran up to my room. Closed the door. Plopped on my bed. Opened the envelope. Could it really be an acceptance letter, how? Had Mr. Smythe really gone the entire mile by sending in a college application for me? The letter read:
Dear Jason Hicks,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Michigan State University… blah blah blah, everyone only reads the first line anyway, but the first line is the most important. I can’t believe that Mr. Smythe did all that for me, for me? I can’t remember the last time that one of them has done something for me, but it doesn’t matter now, he has done all this for me and that is all that matters.
The next day I ran to Mr. Smythe’s classroom and gave him a hug, I mean a real hug. I can’t remember the last time I’ve hugged one of them, hugged anything besides Bruno. I felt like never letting go, I felt that if I let go I may lose my everything, this man has become everything to me, not because he was there every night when I cried myself asleep, not because he was there to stop my dad from coloring my face black and purple, not because he fed me when I was kicked out of my house, not because he did everything, because he didn’t, but because he was the only one of them who cared, caring obviously doesn’t mean doing everything, because Mr. Smythe didn’t, and no one can do everything, but doing everything to care is how he became my everything.
