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"You got a lot of nerve." That's the first thing I say to Bradley in first period the next morning while he's sitting in his desk. He and his bottle-blonde girlfriend cease their conversation and both turn their heads to face me.

"What's your problem?" the girl asks contemptuously.

"You know you really should stop bleaching your hair so much," I spit at her, gesturing to her hideously bright blonde head, "One of these days, it's all gonna fall out. And I wasn't talking to you."

"What's got your panties in a bunch Greyfield?" Bradley asks me in his usual cocky tone, not even bothering to defend his girl. Even with broken ribs the guy's a despicable little cretin.

"You," I almost growl, pointing a finger at his face, "Why the fuck did you lie about Kevin? Are you that big of a creep?"

"Hey, he knocked me down and fucked up my ribs!" he snaps, pointing to his side, "And now I can't play ball for weeks!"

"You're a fucking liar," I hiss through my teeth, glowering down at him, "He didn't even touch you, and you know it."

"Something shoved me down, and I know it was him. Besides, who're people gonna believe?"

"This. Isn't. Over. Bradley." I snarl at him. The fluorescent light overhead flickers, though no one gives it any attention.

I storm back to my desk while Bradley snorts, hardly intimidated. I hear Bradley's girl snicker in an annoyingly nasally voice, "What a freak," and she and Bradley and a few others share a good laugh.I release an exasperated sigh and reach into my bag for my pills. I'm way too coherent to deal with this.

The rest of the day soars past my eyes in its usual pill-induced haze. I shuffle through my classes on auto-pilot. Go to class, do the work, move on to next period, repeat. At lunch, just when the smoke starts to clear, I pop another pill and switch back to auto-pilot.

By the time I come back up, I'm on the bus ride home. I separate my skull from the window and watch the elementary kids in the front scream and clamor away.

Despite their hyperactivity, I'll admit I kinda do like kids. They're plenty of fun; I know Kevin's little brother enjoys my company. Though, I doubt I'll ever have any children of my own. Don't get me wrong, I think I'd be a great parent and all, loving, supportive, and fun. But... there is always the chance of he, or she, inheriting this disease of mine, and I just couldn't stand to let that happen. I just couldn't stand the idea of any child of mine having to live a medicated life like me, or suffering like Martin had.

The bus squeals at a stop in front of my house, and I squeeze down the aisle past the little ones and hop down the steps onto the sidewalk.

As usual, the house is empty when I enter; Mom doesn't get home until before dinner. I drop my bag by the front door as I lock it. Mom left a note on the kitchen counter. I grab a shiny red apple out of the fruit bowl at the end of the counter and take a bite out of it as I read it. Apparently she's going to be a little late coming home tonight, but there's some leftover chicken in the fridge that I can microwave when I get hungry.

All of a sudden, the air feels freezing. My whole body shivers. Did Mom leave a window open or something?

When I turn, I can see that none of the windows are open, but there is something standing in front of them.

"Hello Lukas." it says.

My apple slips out of my fingers and hits the floor.
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Submitted on
November 6, 2011
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