Whiskers

Kindergarten

Dan's flashback POV

It was kindergarten, the first day. That day was not a good day. I walked into the classroom and as soon as i did, the classroom went silent. The teacher, the teacher's assistant, the parents and the other children being dropped off for their first day of school. My mom had dropped my hand and whispered something to my dad. I had no idea why the other kids were staring at me. But one spoke up, "He's a freak!" One of them said. I hadn't been subjected to much name-calling or anything, but i knew that the name he called me wasn't good. The mother then said his name in a harsh tone. I think it started with an F, but i forgot. But the name was the one that stuck with me.

The name and the laughter from all the other kids. Everyone laughed except this one kid with curly red hair and a face full of freckles. He was off to the side, clinging to his mom's hand and staring at me with big eyes. He was small, smaller than the rest of the class. He didn't laugh, and after the morning, i sat by him. He never seemed to notice my presence, we usually sat in silence. A few times we would talk, but not much. He turned into my best friend in the first week.

But all of that first week i was called the freak. And when i started hanging out with the other outcast, the names got worse. One kid, friends with the first one that called me a freak, called me gay. I don't think he knew exactly what it meant, but then i was always called it. The girls, one named Isabel who i actually liked, classified me as 'not liking girls.' So none of them would talk to me. Soon, the whole class would just call me freak or gay and never come close to me.

The teacher got worried in just the second week. I had abandoned the boy with the red hair and proceeded to always sit alone. So, my mom pulled me out of school. I had never understood why the kids thought i was a freak in the first place. But then one night, i asked my dad. He said, 'Dan, the kids just thought you were different when you went to school with your whiskers."

I had gone to my first day of kindergarten with cat whiskers drawn on my face in sharpie. The one boy in the back of my class called me a freak, but since i didn't know why, i still wore the whiskers. All the way until when i was pulled out. They were my whiskers, i don't know why i wore them. I didn't even have a cat, i had a dog who always jumped on me when i got home.

The kids thought i was different, a freak and gay. I was always different.

After the first two weeks, my mom home schooled me. We tried again in middle school, but the same boy from the first day of school recognized me. I was talking to a girl, one who was welcoming me to the school. The boy walked up to me and the girl and said, "Avery, don't talk to the freak! He's a proven gay." And she never spoke to me again. But i never retaliated, just told my mom. She took me out again.

My mom and dad were pretty young, which meant that they were cool. They let me wear whiskers and shop for nothing but black clothing. They felt the need to let me 'express' myself. That led to a happy Dan, except for when i cam into contact with other kids. I was just different. always.

So since the first day of school, i was always different. No one talked to me, only called me names. I never met the red-headed boy again.

Dan's POV

Remembering this, I slowly got up from the bathroom floor. I looked at the digital clock, it was close to midnight. Phil should be in his bed now, asleep. I open the medicine cabinet and look for a marker. I find one, a sharpie. I run the felt tip across my face. My cheeks with dried tears, and my nose that was bruised slightly. I look at my face, the whiskers. They seemed familiar yet alien on my face.

I slowly opened the door, i peek my head out to see Phil. He's still leaned against the door. Why would he stay with me like that? His head is shifted because i move the door. I try to open it a little more and slip through it, awaking Phil. "Shit." I say under my breath. "Dan?" He asks, slowly stretching. Please don't look at my bruised face. Please don't see my dried tears. Please don't smell the metallic smell of blood on my shirt. Flooded by the light from from the bathroom, his green/blue eyes practically glow. "D-dan." He stutters, stepping closer to me. I puts a finger to my face, i wince. But his eyes don't go to my blackened one, or my busted lip, his fingers and eyes trace my whiskers. I wince at the pain when his finger runs over my slightly bruised nose.

"Y-you're the F-freak." He stutters. I'm taken aback by his words. What? What did he just say? "Phil?" I ask, saying the name aloud suddenly brings me back to nine years ago.

"Phil!" The mom screams at her son who had just called me a freak. It was him, his name didn't start with the letter F, but the sound. It was him at middle school too, calling me gay and scaring the girl named Avery away from me. How could i not remember his jet black hair, his balanced stature, his eyes? Those eyes are beautiful, but the boy i knew who called me a freak was a brown-eyed boy.

I'm suddenly collapsing, my knees trembling and my legs giving out. The boy who i thought was my friend has his hands in his pockets and is staring at me. He's lacking his once kind and understanding and caring eyes. He just stares down at me as i fall into darkness, emptiness swallowing me. I hit my head on the bathroom door, his face the last thing i see before my vision blackens at the edges and blurs.

Freak