9.1.03

A boy finds himself creating a facade to protect himself from his family, and his school peers. What happens when he befriends a group of toxic friends?

9.1.03

Karim Ghazal


“We all wear masks, and the time comes when we can not remove them without removing some of our own skin.”
-André Berthiaume

A child was born, a healthy, happy, innocent baby, flapping his arms and legs in the air. His family, crowded around his mother’s bed, everyone talking in high-pitched, cooey voices, as if filtering their dire speech for the baby’s content. Too bad it was all veiled, forged, they were telling the parents they couldn’t wait to see him grow up into a strong, powerful man. They really couldn’t, they hated children.

But, inevitably, that child grew up, graduated elementary school, middle school, and then, the teenage jail, the house of petty betrayals and public breakups, the property of social ladders and cliques, the setting of our story, high school.

People called him “Lonely Boy”. No one talked to him. Their intimidation was too strong.

He never interacted with them, no “good morning”s or “see you tomorrow”s. He has a deep, husky, raspy voice that makes you think of death, was the rumor about him, but, then again, you really shouldn’t trust what people say.

He walked through the gates of his school, long silky black hair draped over his face like curtains hung over windows, concealing it, along with his feelings, his fears, and his deepest insecurities.

Grey backpack, to match his grey smoke, grey dreams, and devoid-of-color life.

He was walking to the corner of the library, where he was planning to sit, reading, for the umpteenth time, To Kill a Mockingbird. It is a beautifully written coming of age story, depicting the destruction of innocence, a study in the nature of courage, truth, and integrity, and a poignant tale of the injustice of racial discrimination.

That is until he heard, “Can’t you just watch a movie or something? You always read.”

The boy who asked the question didn’t wait for an answer, he kept walking, but a standard-toned, mellow voice, answers.

“Books don’t tell me what to think, they can say that the grass was green and the trees were swaying with the wind, but they don’t tell me that there were little water droplets on the grass and that it was just the right shade of green that made me feel alive, and that the trees moved in harmony, making that peaceful rustling voice, with the chirping birds and the crickets and the squirrels. Movies show me that stuff, I want to imagine it.”

“Well, that’s insightful”, the boy replied, chuckling.

People ignorantly thought that he had answered casually, not caring what people were going to think, but Lonely Boy did anything but. He wasn’t hurt, misunderstood, or angry at life, he wasn’t who he made himself out to be.

The only difference between him and a normal teenager is that he had a reputation keeping people from talking to him, and he didn’t want to destroy that. He didn’t need to be in the midst of teenage drama. He didn’t need to stress his life out with friendships. Like accidentally hurting his friends’ feelings by saying the truth. He was better off alone.

But he knew someone would talk to him eventually, and he had prepared to say something witty, but not annoyingly inspirational so people wouldn’t mock him, he didn’t need that either.

He also planned to take down the tone of his usually high-pitched voice, and not look up from whatever he was reading while talking, and to say it all in one breath, so it would seem like he wasn’t thinking about it.

He did everything he wanted to, but, for some frustrating reason, couldn’t help but sneak a look at the boy who had dared to talk to the depressed lonely teenager who was always on the sidelines. He could tell it was Dylan Osmond, only the most prestigious boy in his school.

As he watched Dylan laugh and joke with all of his friends, he suddenly felt different about his attitude towards school, but he didn’t understand how or why. He felt like, all this time, he was disconnected from the world, like he was missing out on amazing experiences.

He started high-school not wanting drama, so he kept up with his “misunderstood teenager” act, but now, watching Dylan, he didn’t see any drama in having friendships. No drama at all.

*

As Lonely Boy walked back home that day, he thought about what he was feeling. He wanted to see how he’d fit in, in a life like Dylan’s. But he was afraid. Would he be accepted? He needed a guarantee he wasn’t going to demolish his reputation and end up with nothing but the ashes of his former lies.

He didn’t know what he was doing, but his sheer imagination got him seeing himself in Dylan’s place, being loved by everyone, without having to keep up with reputation or having to fake every action. Being praised by everyone, simply for existing. He was amazed. Why did he start that whole facade in the beginning? Was he scared of people’s judgment? Why?

Lonely boy changed. He wasn’t some random teenager who would want to fake his whole life just to be accepted by people he’ll probably never see again after he graduates high school.

As he walked into the driveway of his house, he quickly pulled back his hair, revealing a thin, scrawny face, with a long hook-like nose and a scar across his left eyebrow. He readjusted his firm, pursed lips into a smile. He changed his walk, made it jumpier, happier. And then he stuffed his book in the back of his bag.

As he walks in, his mother asks, “Hi honey, how was school today?”

“Great! Tyler let me copy all the notes I missed yesterday.”

Gruffly laughing, his dad answers, “We’re gonna have to meet that young man one day, eh? He’s been takin’ up all yer’ time! ”

“Sure, dad, but he’s very busy, he’s going to so many after-school classes, I don’t think he has the time for meeting you guys.“

“Well, he’ll have to find the time, I can’t be lettin’ my lad sit with any falla’ ya’ find on the street!”

His mother replies, “Ooh, I have an idea! Why don’t you join those after-school classes, huh? What does he do?”

“I’ve got to go wash my hands, I’ll be right back!”

He grabbed his bag and walked into his room, shutting the door. He ran to his bed and stretched his hand under his mattress, running it on the wooden frame for a while before finding and pulling out an old notebook. He grabbed a pencil from the cup on his desk and started scribbling on the first blank page he could see.

He wrote, “tyler’s afterschool classes: robotics (2pm-3pm, cant go cause its full), and volleyball (4pm-6pm, cant go cause I hate sports)”

Then he went back and flipped through the other pages, making sure his facts were straight, and that the time of his imaginary friend's after-school classes makes sense with his schedule. He really only made Tyler up so his parents wouldn’t feel bad for him.

You see, this is why he wants to live like Dylan. He won’t have to worry about these things!

So, he gathered all his things, his things that he uses to create the “angsty teenager” facade, that is, and dumped them all on his white bed.

He looked at the mess in front of him and he thought, he thought hard, about what he was going to do. At first, he was going to burn them, he would no longer have any use for them. But then he thought about Tyler, he couldn’t just disappear off the face of the planet, then Lonely Boy would need to act devastated, but he wasn’t going to do that. He was done with facades. So he threw all of them in a box, which he then hid in the back of the attic, for no-one to find.

*

So, the former “Lonely Boy” walked into school the next day, with his hair out of his face, without his angst, without his forged teenage anguish.

He walked the school corridors, trying really hard to ignore the stares and the people muttering, until he got to the lockers, where Dylan and his friends usually meet before classes start.

He was about to say something to them, but he was struck by the absolute silence they had when they saw him. Dylan pushes through the crowd of confused teenagers and held out his hand in greeting. Lonely Boy shook it with hesitation. He didn’t know if he was supposed to act like the others, because he may be imposing on their otherwise normal life. He took the risk of shaking Dylan’s hand.

“Lonely Boy?”, one of Dylan’s friends asks.

Lonely Boy replied, saying, “The name’s Jess”.

He talked with some of the other guys, and they really seemed to like him, other than the fact that they didn’t ask for his name, they just called him Lonely Boy. He didn’t know what to make of that, but he didn’t really care, they were talking to him!

After the bell rang, he immediately turned around to go to class, until he noticed that everyone grew silent. When he went back to look at them, he saw them staring at him in confusion. He figured that if he wants to have friends, he’d have to be more like them, more casual.

He stayed with them until they decided to go to class, after being 9 minutes and 42 seconds late, according to the watch Lonely Boy had been staring at for the past 9 minutes and 42 seconds.

He didn't pay attention in class, either. Apparently, he was just supposed to lay back and talk to the "guys", as everyone called them, like they were some kind of underground organization.

Jess was later invited to a movie with the “guys” after school. He was excited. He had never been invited to hang out. Anywhere, Ever.

He didn’t know if had to change his clothes, or if he was supposed to have lunch before he went. He didn’t know if people were going to leave directly after the movie ends, or if they were going to one of the guys’ houses.

He didn’t know anything, but he saw the difference having friends has made in him, and he wanted to stay like that.

*

As Jess walks into the mall, heading for the teller. The guys were beginning to gather in front of him.

Once they were all there, they walked, as a group, to the teller each buying his own ticket. And then they all turned to Jess, and Dylan said that for someone to be able to watch the movie, they have to be 17 or older. Then he asks Jess whether he’s 17 or not.

“Yeah, I’m 17. Born on 9.1.02“ Jess answers.

Why did he do that? He was 16, not 17. He was born on 9.1.03, not 9.1.02! Why would he do that? Did it matter? Jess was thinking it wouldn’t matter. Why would it matter? Its just one year, why would it matter at all? What harm could it do? Nothing! It’s not as bad as putting on a whole fake identity, right? He wasn’t creating another facade, was he? No, it was just one lie about something so insignificant. He’s better. I’m sure. But what if he gets too deep inside the lie to tell the truth? Why was he even worried about this? He’s psyching himself out!

He continued walking confidently with the rest of the guys towards the theatre, hoping, hoping, he was overthinking his slight mishap.

Too bad he didn’t realize such a little detail could so much damage to his life…


*

After they were finished talking through the movie, they went back to one of the guys’ houses. His name was Bryce.

He had said that there were already some friends over at his place, but Jess didn’t realize what kind of friends.

He walked into a smudge of grey and light blue. It seemed as if Bryce was living in a fog, literally and figuratively.

Jess backed away, trying to get a whiff of fresh air. He couldn’t. The stench had seeped outside, contaminating the pure air. He had to run away, he had to escape. He couldn’t breathe!

He fled the porch, hoping the baneful amount of toxic smoke coming out of the door wouldn’t stick to him like leeches to a host.

He ran fast, as if fleeing his past self, the person who would’ve let himself be enveloped in a lie, a toxic life. The person who didn’t want to be normal, or at least have a normal teenage persona.

He was suddenly brought back to real life. He realized that he wasn’t running. He was, with his friends, walking in.

He walked onto a rug of cigarette butts, broken booze bottles.

One of the guys inside the house threw him a bottle of beer, a cigarette box, a lighter, and a bag filled with white powder, the same stuff that was covering the floor.

He looked over at Dylan and saw that he had already started on his first cigarette.

Jess felt trapped, helpless, like a stranger’s hand was provoking the cigarette closer to his face, all the way to his lips.

Another hand lit the lighter, letting the flame lick the tip of the cigarette, igniting it, along with Jess’s last sliver of hope.

He kept smoking, drinking, and snorting the drugs, hoping he could finish the house’s supply.

It wasn’t working, but he kept going. He couldn’t stop.

*

Jess woke up in a bush, with twigs jabbing at his legs and his face on the soil.

He yanked his head up, trying to find out where he was. He looked around and recognized the white front door, where he was lured in by his fear of not being able to fit in.

He ran home, eyes puffy with tears, skin dirty with dirt, shirt wet with sweat.

He quickly ran up to the shower, his parents hadn’t woken up yet. He felt so bad, they must have been up all night worrying about him.

“God, why?! Why did you ruin every aspect of my life?! What did I do to deserve this? Whatever I did, I’m sorry, but save me from this nightmare! Please! “, he shouted through sobs, over and over again, his screams not heard over the sound of the running water.

He jumped out of the shower, still filthy, and ran to the attic, dragging the box back to his room.

Then, he hears a knock on the door. After answering with the most positive tone he had, his mother asks him, “Are you ready for school?”

He stood, shocked. Was she not going to acknowledge that he left home at 3 PM, to see a movie, and returned the next day, at 6 AM ?!

He said, “Yeah, just a second!”, trying to hold back tears.

It turns out that the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree in his mother’s family. She didn’t love him either.

*

Lonely Boy, again, walked through the gates of his school, long silky black hair draped over his face like curtains hung over windows, concealing it, along with his feelings, his fears, and his deepest insecurities, but this time, he wasn’t pretending.

Dylan and the other ”guys”, including Bryce, walked up to him, the same way they did for the past week, not realizing any change in Lonely Boy’s appearance.

“Yo, you really partied last night”, Dylan said, raising his hand for a handshake.

Lonely Boy remembered the first time he shook Dylan’s hand. He remembered how happy he was, proud of himself, for being accepted. But, he also remembered how they ripped away the last shred of innocence left in him.

Instead of a handshake, Dylan received an awfully painful kick in a rather sensitive area. He deserved it.

*

Lonely Boy sat in the corner of the library, where he, like days of his naivety, read To Kill a Mockingbird.

He liked stories like this, ones that showed you true dystopia, for you to genuinely realize how utopian your world really is.

After all, what is dystopia, but an image of warped perfection, of twisted integrity?


A Short Story
by
KARIM GHAZAL

Author's Note

Please tell me what you think, and what I can improve on.

Reviews

[MissEnigmas]

"To Kill a Mockingbird" - liked that book. This would make an awesome introduction to a book, might help some other kids who can relate to your story-world. Donning the mask reminds me of the book, "Knocking the Hustle" by Lester K. Spense; indeed, your story is like a combination of "knocking," the movie "Easy A," and author, Joan Didion's not-so-famous phrase, "the lies we tell ourselves in order to live." Fantastic write. I relate to Dylan...truthfully...haha I did "Easy A" in high-school, I understood the importance of acceptance and if there was some small thing I could do to make another person feel "cool" or cared about, I did it. Much love--ME