The Guy Who...

"What? You know him! I know you're new but you have to know him!" she gave a pointed look at a guy who threw his head back and laughed. He didn't notice us though.
The laugh looked forced, but it fooled everybody.
"He's the guy who took our football team to the states finals." at my blank stare, she exhaled through her nose sharply. "The guy who helped Mrs. Rudy go to the hospital."
Sounded familiar, but I shrugged.
"He's the guy who lost his little brother in a motorcycle accident." As my eyes widened in recognition, she laughed a hard laugh. "It's funny; nobody remembers him like the hero he was. They just remember him as the guy who lost his little brother."
(Author's Note: Based on true events.)

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3. Leslie Pierce

    ​"You should really pay attention the next time. You don't just get to choose all willy-nilly."

​     I say nothing, instead looking down at the ground. My teeth dig into the bottom of my bottom lip, and a warm trickle begins.

​     He knows what I'm doing; he slaps me against my back, hard enough to knock me off my feet. The hate flares up in the center of my chest, and I want to beat him into oblivion.

    But he is thirty something, and I'm only twelve.

​     I get back up, and lick the blood off my lip. It's salty and gross, but it's all I can do before I can go to the restroom and properly clean it. As I turn, he grabs me by my ponytail, and jerks my head back.

​    "You need to learn your place, girl. Never forget that ​took you in, instead of letting you become a forgotten kid in the foster care system! Never forget that, R-"

 

      ​I bolt upright from my bed, and grip my pillow with both hands.

     Leslieleslieleslieleslie. I chant. That's my name. Not that R-word. Leslie is my name. 

​      I count the seconds silently, the way my therapist taught me how to do. Slowly, after about thirty-six seconds, my breathing returns to normal. I feel pleased-usually it's around sixty or eighty when I'm finally able to calm down.

​       Sleep is out of the question for me, so I get up, and grab my iPod. I place the earbuds in my ears, and put on some rock music. Then, I grab my sketchbook, turn on my lamp, and let my imagination run wild.

 

​     ​"...you're listening to 106.3 the Buzz. Now let's hear it for the next band 'Avenged Sevenfold' with the song Scream!..."

   ​My hand slaps my alarm clock off, and I get up. I stretch loving the burning sensation of my arms, and legs, and pull off the  earbuds from my ears. Apparently, my iPod died, which would explain why I could hear my alarm clock.

​       I grab some clothes, and shoes, and head for my restroom, hoping that a cold shower would cool me off.

​      Twenty minutes later, I'm wide awake, and fully dressed. I'm blow-drying my hair, curling the ends. When I'm done, I put some mascara on, and some lip gloss.

      Nice. I look better than I ever did.

​      I open the bathroom door, and prepare for the day to come.

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