Jeremy just wished to be alone and invisible. But no matter how much he tried, people still stared at him. The black clothes and the weird shapeless haircut were useless; he was just too big for his age. As he waited by her car, he could only think about it. At age thirteen he was the tallest boy in his class. Tall, thin, clumsy. He drew attention wherever he went. This is what made him especially concerned with this biology assignment. He didn’t mean to make such a good work. He tried, as usual, to be average. But he dissected that frog in such a perfect way, that she chose him to represent the school in the regional competition that weekend. “You really have a talent, young man! You did an amazing job,” she told him. He knew that already. He always liked cutting things.
It was not his fault if his colleagues were dumb. He should have
guessed that no one would do a decent job and he would outstand everyone. Now the
only way out of this was going to be hard. People often think it is something good
to be different. That everyone should try to stand out and show the world what
makes them unique. Jeremy knew that what makes us unique isn’t always something
good. Sometimes he wanted to be like Marie. She was the girl who sat on the
back and used to cut her left arm. He could understand her. He also felt like
cutting the problems away. If he could, he would make a dissection on himself
and, after opening his own body, separate among the skin, veins and blood,
whatever he felt unnecessary. Marie still had scars on her
arm, so she always wore long sleeves, even in hot days.
As he thought about all this, his teacher was finally
approaching her car. She smiled to him and he smiled back. The world was filled
with freaks, he thought. But they all could act normal and pretend to fit the
model. Hide whatever they wanted to hide. That was not possible to him. He
realized people observed him during gym class or whenever he walked with his
classmates and it made him feel uncomfortable. He hated feeling the looks on
him. He was quite sad she didn’t accept his excuses. She was really forcing him
to go on and present his project in front of all these people. He decided that
from now on he would be more careful with his actions. There was no need for
any more suffering. He put his hand in his pocket and felt it, the cold metal,
as she finally got to the car.
- How are you, Jeremy? Excited about tomorrow?
- I really don’t want to go, Mrs. Shields.
- That’s nonsense, dear! We talked about that and you are going.
I am in a bit of a hurry, would you pleas… Ah! – she reached her throat trying
to block the blood. She couldn’t believe what just happened. She looked at him in
horror and tried to speak, but the words couldn't leave her mouth anymore. Jeremy just stood there, looking at her. Indeed,
he always liked cutting things.
Versão em português
Versão em português
Start Writting Fiction Week 3 #FLfiction14
