Tracey and I had a bet over what my parents would flip over first and worst, my hair or my clothes. I won, though not by much.

"JESUSMARYANDJOSEPH!" my mother gasped when I stepped in the door. Getting the entire holy family out of Mum was quite an achievement�go me! "What on EARTH happened to you?!"

Arik glanced over, his hand in a box of Cheerios. "Warw!" he exclaimed through a mouthful of breakfast food. "Wahrt 'appended 'oo yer 'air?!"

Mum had gone red in the face, her eyeballs bulging in their sockets. She sputtered, her cheeks pulsating and the vein in her temple throbbing, and hollered, "ADDISOOOON!"

Dad rushed in. One look at me, and his glasses fell clear off his face to the floor. "HARRISON-ADDISON MADISON REDDE!" he bellowed, his fists convulsing.

I shrugged and turned to leave, but before I could leave the room, a hand latched itself around the back of my eyepatch, tearing at my newly noir hair. I yelped and stumbled backwards.

"HOW COULD YOU!?" Mum screeched, winding her fingers in my hair. "Your pretty hair is ruined! RUINED! And those perfectly good clothes!"

"Hey, weren't those mine?" Arik yelped, suddenly distraught. "Awww, Harry, you destroyed them!"

"Let go of me!" I hollered, flailing against Mum's grip.

I managed to pull away, only to be laid flat by a quick slap from Dad. "You little BRAT!" he barked, eyes flaming. "How dare you ruin good clothes and destroy your hair like that?! And without our permission! You did this just to defy us, didn't you?! You spoiled little brat!"

"Your hair!" Mum whimpered. "I can't believe you did this! It looks horrible!"

"Well, I like it!" I snapped.

"You are NOT going to get away with this!" Dad bellowed. "You think you're so damn clever, but you're not, you hear me? We will take care of that hideous hair!"

I ducked under Dad's arm and ran upstairs. I hid out in my room�where else?�until dinner. At dinner the entire family discussion revolved around how incredibly ugly I was. My hair was too long to begin with, they decided. After all, my bangs were always falling in my face! It was a wonder I could see at all! And it was bad for my complexion, didn't you know that, Harry? No wonder your face looks like pink bubblewrap!

I hate dinner. Family "experts" always complain that more families should sit together and have family meals like we do, but apparently they don't take into consideration the kinds of families that spend dinner pointing out each and every flaw in their children. Sometimes I think starving would be better than sitting through typical conversations at our table, but I'm so skinny, I can't afford to stop eating, lest I waste away into nothingness. So here I sit, night after night, biting my tongue not to cry or clenching my teeth not to scream. Maybe I keep my bangs long to hide my stupid face and my stupid eyepatch, did you ever consider that, Mum?

All their threats turned out to be empty. They realized that if they shaved my head, I'd look even more freakish, and that even if they cut it, it'd still be black for weeks, so eventually they gave up and let me keep my hair like that. I was glad; every time I caught my reflection I grinned. I liked it black. They threw out my clothes, though, which was unfortunate, as the cut-off khakis and I had finally come to an understanding.

Mum relinquished one of my shirts for me to wear to school the next day, so at least I felt somewhat more human. The freshman populace went nuts over my hair. Girls kept touching it all day, which was a very good thing. However, dark feelings consumed my chest all day, for this was the day Justin was supposed to return from his suspension. I feared his vengeance.

We had English together last period. All through class he shot me murderous looks from his seat diagonally behind mine, his eyes narrowed to bloodthirsty, blonde-lashed slits. I don't think I heard a single word Dingle said, for I was far too preoccupied trying to stare straight ahead as if I couldn't feel the hot death glares aimed at the back of my head. When the bell rang to go home, I flew outside without talking to Georgie and Lin, and I even willingly accepted a ride home from Arik.

Shit, I really feared that jock now. He'd always been a nuisance, but now I knew how dangerous he could be. I couldn't forget the coppery taste of blood he'd put in my mouth or the aches in my body I'd dealt with for days. And I certainly couldn't forget how furious my parents had been when I got involved with him. I hated that I was afraid of him, hated that I was ashamed of myself for being afraid of him, and hated that my parents punished me for defending myself against him.

We all knew Justin's dad was rough on him. No one really talked about it openly, but we all knew. Lowly-murmured rumors told of him staggering into school to pick Justin up from practice, unkempt and hostile and reeking of alcohol, and cuffing Justin upside the head for no reason. No wonder Justin was violent. But, then, all violent jerks have some dark problem, don't they? And who was I? Just some stupid little suburban white boy with two parents and a two-car garage. My parents may not have been very loving, but they didn't beat me up.

Did that make it right that Justin picked on me?

Maybe. I don't know.

"You look so sad, Harry," Arik commented.

"Stomachache," I murmured back, my forehead against the window.

He wouldn't understand. Arik was never picked on. Arik was the popular jock in high school, not the nerd being shoved into the locker. Even now, anyone can look at the chiseled muscles across his torso and deduce that it might not be wise to tangle with him.

I really missed Bryce then, my better brother. Bryce was mercilessly picked on all through high school and beyond. Bryce has a mouth like mine, and he's twice as proud, so he's probably still getting hassled to this day, wherever he is. He'd grown up in a very rough area of Vermont and could tell you stories that would make your hair stand on end. He'd been even scrawnier than I was and had had fewer friends�and he'd been openly gay since he was fourteen. He used to tell me stories of fights against entire basketball teams, vicious brawls with knives and broken glass, and all the tricks he'd used to stay out of administration's grasp�things I'd never have the balls to attempt. Arik had always thrown a fit when he caught Bryce telling me about how to throw a knife correctly or how to break into a house through a window because he thought he was giving me bad ideas.

God, I miss you, Bryce.

"You've been so moody lately, and you keep getting in trouble with Mum and Dad," continued Arik, the reason Bryce left me. "You know, you really shouldn't be so rebellious. With Mum and Dad, that never works. It only causes more problems. But hey, what did everyone think of your hair?"

"They liked it. I like it."

"That so? Aw, you wear so much black, it's kind of morbid!" He tilted his head and looked at me. "I guess it does look nice, though. Different, anyway."

"Thanks."

The dance was at seven on Thursday in the school gym. I managed to scrounge a certain shirt and pair of jeans I wanted out of Mum and hid them in my room until the time came. At 6:30 I told my parents that I was going to bed early because I didn't feel well, and could they please not bother me? I made sure to be meek all day to keep their tempers in check so they wouldn't be suspicious. Once in my room, I changed out of the hideous Arik clothing I'd been forced into and brushed my teeth. I even set my stereo to repeat the Used to make my act more convincing. I climbed out the window and stealthily slipped away from the house on my bike. Lin's house was closest, so I bummed a ride with him. His dad greeted me cheerfully, for Lin and I had had this planned for days. I like Mr. Lin. His English does get a bit addled sometimes, but he's a good man, and he's always happy to see me. Plus, listening to him and Lin jabber in Mandarin is so cool.

The dance was great. They usually are, so long as the drunk jocks don't throw up on you. There's something about feeling the music reverberate up through your feet in the dark while you dance crazily with all your friends that just gets one's blood pumping (And yes, I know that opinion is contrary to the Ten Commandments of being a social outcast. Sue me.) As usual, most of the music they played sucked, but my friends were there, and that was what mattered. I laughed and joked and genuinely had a good time. I forgot about my parents and Justin and Arik, and all was well.

I danced with Margie twice! She really dolled herself up for the dance-nail polish, barrettes in her hair, makeup, the whole nine yards. She looked nice�well, for Margie. She stepped on my feet throughout both slow songs, and her pudgy arms around my neck were sweaty, but it wasn't so bad. She even tried to kiss my cheek afterwards, missed and got my ear instead, and made me go bright red and giggly in spite of myself. Maybe it was kind of gross coming from her, but a kiss is a kiss. Georgie and Lin threw their arms around my shoulders and marched me around, teasing me relentlessly all night like any good best friends should. "You're a good man, Harrison, a good man," Georgie sighed, while Lin applauded and downed two more pixie sticks.

However, things took a horrid turn after 8:30.

I was in the middle of negotiating through a social dilemma involving Georgie and a girl named Tori Li when Lin seized my arm and hissed, "Harris! Isn't that your dad?"

I whipped around�fricken' hell, it was Dad. He was standing in the doorway of the gym, his head flipping back and forth as he looked for me. He spotted me, his face convulsed, and he stalked briskly towards me with strides long and firm. His figure rippled with fury�he was livid.

"I have to go," I said quickly to my friends. A quick burst of logic told me it was wiser to surrender than flee, and so, head down to avoid unwanted attention, I strode quickly towards my father.

Wordlessly, he seized my arm and clenched it so hard I gasped. He pivoted and roughly yanked me after him. At the door, one of the chaperones�my math teacher, Miss Monough�eyed me with concern and said goodbye, but Dad yanked me outside too fast for me to reply.

He threw me against the car. I hit hard and crumpled against the hood, my stomach pummeled.

"Get in the car, you little piece of shit," Dad barked. He stomped to the driver's side and got in. I peeled myself off the hood, my hand over my sore stomach, and got in.

"I cannot believe you snuck out�that you DELIBERATELY defied us! What the fuck is wrong with you?! You're GROUNDED�DON'T YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS?!" He spun his head around to look for other cars and whapped me upside the head while he was at it. "I can't believe you had the nerve to sneak out. My God, when Arik ever told us you weren't in your room�! This is it, Harrison, this is the end of the line�you are NOT going to get away with this!"

I folded my arms and glared out the window for the entire ride home. When we got home, I was thrust violently into the kitchen. I tried to escape to my room, but Dad wrapped his fist in my hair and held me in place. Mum cornered me from the other angle, and Arik shooed Romey out of the room to save her gentle ears.

I had never heard such yelling before in my life. You're a brat! They yelled. You're a selfish, spoiled, stupid little brat! You don't appreciate anything we've done for you�you're so arrogant! You think you're the damn king of the world! You're out of control! You're completely out of control, and we will not tolerate it any longer!

I struggled against Dad's grip, but the more I pulled, the harder he held me, dragging upwards so I had to stand on my tiptoes.

"What has gotten into you?" Mum shrieked. "First your report card, then your suspension, your hair�and now, sneaking out?! Who are you?! What kind of son are we raising?!"

"Well, I'm sorry I'm not Arik!" I shrieked, tugging at Dad's hands.

"What?" Dad cried. "Your brother has nothing to do with this! It's you who has the problem!"

"You're the problem!" I shrieked childishly, and with a final thrust I managed to pull myself from Dad's grip and flee to my room.

When I got to my room, I discovered that my entire CD and comic book collection had been confiscated�obviously as punishment. Instantly livid, I screamed senselessly, pulled all the drawers out of my bureau, threw my shoes and books at the wall, and kicked over my desk chair. When I ran out of things to throw, I fell to the ground and punched the floor until my knuckles were raw from the rough carpet. I stayed on my knees for a long time while I fought a burning face and held my knuckles to clot the bleeding. I couldn't believe they'd actually taken my music. Taking away my computer was survivable, but how was I supposed to cope with this shit without my music? Music was my only ally at home!

There was a knock at the door.

"Go fuck yourself!" I yelled to my visitor.

The knob turned, and Arik appeared in the doorway. "Hey," he said cautiously.

"What do you want?" I hissed.

"Mum and Dad sent me up here to tell you that you're grounded until further notice, that, no, you you can't have your music back, and that they want you to, er, 'think about what you've done.' They decided it was best not to come up here themselves." He glanced at the rubble that was my room. "Probably a good move on their part."

"Well, thank you, loyal lackey. You can leave now," I muttered darkly.

He delayed awkwardly, his hands pocketed. "You okay, buddy?"

I shot him a smoldering glare. This clown was the reason I'd been caught.

"I was worried when I found your room empty. I thought you'd run away. It was a good thing Mum called Mr. Lin and found out where you were, or they might have called the police."

I refused to give him the satisfaction of a response. I continued to glare wordlessly.

He shifted his eyes from mine, unable to bear it. He pulled something thin and flat from his breast pocket. It was a CD.

"They missed this one. If you promise me you'll tone it down a little, I'll let you have it."

A CD! It glinted enticingly in Arik's hand, and my mouth practically watered for it. But no-I would take no bribes from Human Perfection, no matter how tempting! Besides, how did I know Mum and Dad hadn't put him up to it? I scowled twice as viciously as before, insulted that my parents would potentially employ Arik to work against me�and that Arik would use something as precious as my music to manipulate me. No, I would not take his bribe; I'd get Lin and Georgie to burn me emergency CDs to tide me over.

Arik sighed when he realized his bribe was useless. "Fine," he murmured, defeated, and turned to leave. He stopped, looked at the CD, and then tossed it towards me. "Keep it, anyway."

It was an old Linkin Park CD some chick had burned me. Not one of my favorites, but better than nothing. As soon as Arik was gone, I locked the door, took my stereo off the bureau, and put it on the floor. I plugged my headphones into it and secretly savored the angry music. I fell asleep listening to it and curled in a heap of bed sheets I'd thrown on the floor.

The rest of that week and the week that followed were abysmal. With the dance done, there was nothing to look forward to, and I woke up each day as miserable as I had gone to sleep the previous night. I no longer ate dinner with my parents because they despised my presence. I didn't speak to them, and they didn't speak to me. Each day when I came home from school I went instantly up to my room, did my homework, and then laid on the floor listening to music or scribbling senselessly until I heard the living room TV go on. This meant that Dad was done with dinner and had reclined in front of the television to relax, and thus signaled that I was allowed to go downstairs and quickly wolf down the cold remnants of dinner that they'd saved for me.

School wasn't much better. Because of Justin's presence, I now feared English class, and I was constantly edgy in the hallways. I was having difficulty studying and concentrating at home, so my grades for the week were much lower than usual. On top of it all, my eyes were acting up. My vision even spontaneously blacked out once during Biology. Wonderful, I thought miserably as I missed an entire period's worth of notes while waiting for my vision to return, my family hates me, I'm failing English, and I'm going blind to boot.

It was one of those weeks when you don't really feel alive. You trudge from class to class, but they're all the same, they're all boring, and each new period only makes you feel worse about yourself. You don't speak because you have nothing to say to anyone, and you feel wearier than you can ever remember feeling before. The smiles and laughter of others hurts, and you hate them for their happiness. Tears seem imminent sometimes, but of course you have to hold them back. Hide everything.

One day after school, Justin finally tracked me down and dragged me into the locker room. He shoved me against the wall and screamed at me. He yelled and hollered and threatened me within an inch of my life, and then my tears came. He wasn't even punching me, but I was scared and ashamed, and I bawled like an infant. This stunned him, and he yelled more, calling me a faggotpussywussloserbastard. You ever get me in shit like that again, and I'll murder you, you hear me, you fucking one-eyed queer? I'll rip your other fucking eye out, you hear me? You hear me?!

I didn't respond, and eventually he got so disgusted he left me to sob to myself on the locker room floor.

The next day I failed one of Dingle's tests because Justin kept hissing threats at me and my vision was playing tricks on me again. I couldn't show it to my parents, so I took the detention for not getting it signed.

After that, Justin and Spinner stole my backpack just to make their teammates laugh. It took me three periods and the aid of my friends to get it back, but in the meantime I had no homework to turn in for History or French, no school supplies, and no notebook to write in. The next day, I was in such a hideous mood I cut class by hiding out in the bathroom and then spent the rest of the day sleeping in the nurse's office with a feigned stomachache.

I couldn't take much more of this. I wanted help, but I wasn't sure whom I could turn to. My friends couldn't make my family love me, and if I told the teachers how I was being picked on, I'd only be tormented twice as badly for tattling. I began contemplating doing something crazy, just to change this endless procession of dreary days and muted existence. I actually wondered what my parents would do if I cut my wrists�just a little bit. Sane parents might realize there was something wrong and would help and support me; my parents, however, would probably tell me I was spoiled and stupid and would put me in a mental institution�after all, Arik never did anything crazy like that!

But I didn't believe in self-mutilation anyway, and cutting yourself for attention was about as low as one could get. I didn't give it any more thought.

Besides, I wasn't suicidal�I wanted change, and I wanted to be loved, and I wanted the yelling to stop. Being dead wouldn't get me that.

And I wasn't crazy, either, certainly not a candidate for the nuthouse.

Right?

next chapter...