He Never Knew

Chapter 1

A/N: HELLO!!!! I just want to let you know that I'm gonna be editing this. I hope that you enjoy this more coherent version.

Jeffrey Wilson. A name no one remembered. He had no friends, that anyone knew of, at least. He ate alone at lunch. He spent his recesses alone. He never talked in class unless the teacher asked him a direct question, which wasn't very often. They generally ignored him too.   After school, while all the other boys were throwing a football or wrestling, he sat alone under a tree, staring at a book. It was always the same book, worn around the edges and the covers bent and stained with watermarks. He had a plain look to him, blue eyes and brown hair which covered his entire forehead.

No one knew where he lived. If they noticed him at all. Jeffrey would show up at school every morning and stay at the park until after dark. Rumors flew around the school about how he was homeless, but he wasn't. He did have a home. Well, he had a house. It was not home to him. His mother worked for at least twelve hours of the day, taking more shifts if she could, and his father either slept at a bar or somewhere else. Jeffrey didn't know. All he knew was that he couldn't stay there.

He didn't. His mother never noticed that he wasn't home. His father didn't care. He would roam the streets of the small town until he found a safe tree to sleep under. He ate the government provided school lunches, so he wasn't usually hungry at night. He had gotten used to the hunger. His only possession was a tattered, worn out book.

September 5, 2015

                       It's getting chillier now that fall is setting in. I can't sleep out here much longer, which means that I will have to go back to that house. I don't want to. I don't know if I can. As I sat under my tree at recess, a group of girls giggled and pointed at me. One of them asked me if I was crazy or just stupid. I think her name was Lauren. I didn't answer. I didn't know the answer. I heard them go back to their conversations, but I could still hear the whispering of my name and "fag" or "idiot" or somethings similar to those. I didn't really care though. I never liked those girls anyway. They seemed to judge even the nicest people like that. I remember a few years ago, in second grade, there was this girl named Liz who was very nice and I thought really pretty, that they would say mean things to and exclude her from their group completely. That year I had a friend. She sat by me at lunch and would talk to me at recess. But now she moved away. I don't know where to, but she gave me a phone number to call if I ever wanted to talk to her. I don't have a phone.

In the morning, Jeffrey went to his grandmother's house to clean up. She was sleeping, as usual, so Jeffrey didn't wake her. Maybe he could ask her to stay there at night. He put on his backpack and walked to the school.