Moments of Despair

Chapter 1 A New Friend

It was a hot, dry morning. I was sitting in English class wearing my usual jeans and t-shirt, but the jeans weren't helping with the heat. My only two friends were in other classes, and they had so many other people to talk to than me. Driven by loneliness, I decided that day I would make a friend in a class where I had none

“Hey, what’s up?” I tasked my desk neighbor. He was a skinny and he had some bulky arms for his size. He never talked much, but he still seemed friendly, and I didn’t have many friends.

“Screw off asshole,” was his response. I wanted to punch the kid in the face, but I knew I wouldn't be able to do much afterward with my scrawny arms.

Despite his rude attitude and vulgar words, I decided that I was going to make a friend in this class. turning around, I tried to spark a conversation about our English class. “That worksheet yesterday was pretty hard, right?” I asked him.

His response surprised me. His words weren’t harsh or vulgar like the kid before, but squeaky and nervous like mine. “Not really, all you had to do was correct the sentences, and write your name.” he squeaked.

His squeaking made me laugh inside, due to him being slightly chubby. We were almost the exact opposite of each other. My hair was short and brown, while his was shaggy and black. He had awesome blue eyes; I had disgusting brown ones. He was even good at English. I envied him with my whole soul. His name was Jack Driver.

We talked for a while about the class but somehow we some how got on the topic of our families. He only lived with his mother, who worked as a teacher and had a salary that almost equaled out to dirt. He knew his father but never liked him because his father walked out on his mom when she needed him the most and then left her with a child to take care of.

The story was so powerful that I had to tell him mine. I started off telling him that I have only lived with my dad since I was five. After divorcing my mom, my dad started going to church every Sunday while taking me and my brother along every other Sunday. It would have been every Sunday, but my brother and I stayed at my mom’s house every other weekend. I even told him that my dad got paid the same as his mother, dirt. My story wasn’t as powerful as his so I felt ashamed. I kept one part of the story out, that I couldn’t bring myself to tell him. I couldn’t tell anyone that part of the story. It was a part of my life that if I told anyone the way I felt then they would try so hard to do something that they were incapable of doing, and that was to love me.

When my parents divorced my dad always blamed it on my mom but I blamed it on my self. It was all my fault that they had decided life was better without the other in it. I could of done something and didn’t. If I wasn’t born my dad would be happily married.

When the bell rang I was the saddest I had ever been about a bell ringing, and in my least favorite class that’s saying something. We said our good-byes and went our separate ways. It was a long walk to my next class, which was History. It was the class room next to everyone’s least favorite teacher, Mrs. Barnaby.

She wasn’t a skinny teacher at all, although I’m sure she eats them for break fast. She couldn’t be much more than 5 foot, and had the eyes of a hawk. She could spot you from the other end of the hallway and tell you to tuck in your shirt, and some how magically appear in front of you to stop you and watch you do it.

“Charley!” she scream at the top of her lungs, as she popped out of thin air right in front of me. She looked down on me like I was a mange covered dog driven by rabies. “Tuck in your shirt, you know the rules!” she yelled every word like I was on the other side of a football field. I couldn’t help but hate her, however I didn’t want to get a detention, so I did what she said. The whole time I was tucking in my shirt she complained about how parents should do better at disciplining there children.

I was about to smack the smug expression off her face when my teacher showed up. My rage was still flaring when I got in the class. I knew what discipline was, my dad use to spank me with a paddle when I got in trouble. It didn’t matter what kind of trouble, I was going to get the paddle as soon as he found out.

Class began and dragged on for what seemed like forever, then the bell rang. It was finally time to go to home room. The same teacher I had for English, I had for home room. She was a young teacher with beautiful blonde hair and beautiful eyes. She was the nicest teacher I ever had, and always addressed me as a human not as an insolent student. She had two rules for homeroom, don’t get to loud, and stay in your seats.

I was sitting in my seat, bored out of my mind, when I noticed Jack on the other side of the room. I walked over to his desk despite the rules and started talking to him. We never stayed on one subject to long always switching subjects when the teacher told me to find a seat, which I didn’t. The teacher let us out early so we all headed to the cafeteria.

I sat at my usual table where I usually sit with my friends, Jason and Josh. They were my only two friends before third period that day. This was the only time I got to talk with them. Most of they’re friends sat everywhere else except where we sit. Some of them sat with us. There were only one other guy that sat with us and he sat at the other end of the tables. We sat and talked for a while then went outside to play with Lego's.

I know what your thinking three fourteen year-olds playing with Legos, they have to be weird, we were weird. It surprised me that these two had as many friends as they did, but i wanted as many friends as they had, and did what they did.

We played till the bell rang then the sadness of where we were crept up on me again. We were at school, and had three periods left. I hate school but it was a lot better than being home. I had people to talk to and a life, even if it was barely a life. I even watched the clock every class I was in till it said its time for eighth period. I now have math class.

The second nicest teacher in the whole school, Mrs. Dusk, was in my last period class, Math. It was good set up to have going to be able to have a nice teacher last and to have the class I was best at last. I didn’t go home angry or sad, but went home knowing my home work was done. I even had some one to talk to. The only reason I talk to him was that we shared the same pronunciation of our first name, Charlie and , Charley.

Charlie’s father was in the military and was hardly home yet he always talked about him as a hero among ashes. he was quite fond of his father and everything he did. I never considered him a friend because he spent most of his time annoying the class and the teacher, although I usually got the most of it. Charlie always got me in trouble with what ever he did. He had the idea that we were like brothers and always took punishment together. The bell rang and for once in that class Charlie didn’t get me in trouble. The day was finally over. I was hoping this time wouldn’t come.