“I waited out here all night for you to come by after I left that party. But you never came,” Flynn went on. His words were matter of fact. Not an accusation, just the simple truth. I could picture the Flynn Hendrick of years ago, huddled up on the bench, shivering in his wet clothes.

“What’s the point in talking about shit that’s already happened, Flynn? What’s done is done,” I said harshly, my voice rough with emotions I was trying like hell to put a lid on.

Flynn didn’t say anything at my outburst. He continued to look at the ground, refusing to meet my eyes. And perhaps that was for the best. Because the sight of the piercing green would undo me.

“I’d better go.” It was long past time for me to leave. I had pushed beyond the reasonable limits for this less than pleasant walk down memory lane.

“Okay,” Flynn said. Though a part of me wished he would stop me. But he had never asked me to stick around. Not even when we were friends a lifetime ago. He had always let me leave.

I realized I was more than a little resentful about that.

Because just once I’d like someone to ask me to stay. I needed to feel wanted. And the one person who had ever made me feel like that was incapable of verbalizing it when I needed so desperately to hear it.

“I’ll see ya around,” I threw over my shoulder as I headed back across the darkened yard.

Flynn stayed quiet. And his silence pierced the thick walls around my heart.

9

-Flynn-

Many years ago…

I was alone.

I was always alone.

I don’t have friends.

I don’t talk to anyone.

I sit by myself at lunch. I eat my chicken salad sandwich really fast so no one can take it from me. I don’t like being hungry. And if Stu saw my lunch he’d eat it.

I hate being alone. I want people to talk to me. I want them to like me. It makes me angry when I try to say something and people ignore me. Or worse they laugh.

They call me names. Lots of names. Mean names.

A girl named Dania started calling me Freaky Flynn a few months ago and now they all call me that. They yell it when I walk down the hall.

Someone wrote it on my locker with black marker. I cried. I was so angry and everyone was laughing. They called me a pu**y and someone shoved me into the wall.

The mean girl, Dania, pushed me and called me a loser. I didn’t want her touching me. I yelled at her and threw my science book at her face. There was a guy named Shane standing next to her and he threw my book in the trash and told me to go get it.

I didn’t want to. But he grabbed me and shoved me into the trashcan.

It smelled bad. I threw up. And they just kept laughing and shoving me.

Every day is the same. I hate going to school. I try to stay home but my mom makes me go. She says I can’t let them get to me. That I have to be strong. I don’t want to be strong.

I want them to stop.

The only thing I like about school is Ellie. I like seeing her. When she talks to me in class, it makes me happy.

She is still mean sometimes but she is nicer now. She asks me about my drawings and she tells me she wishes she could draw too.

I tell her I can teach her.

She laughs and says she isn’t talented enough. I like her laugh. It makes my insides feel weird.

I still get angry when she calls me Freaky Flynn. But it also makes me feel something else. Not mad, but worse. My new doctor says it is sadness. He helps me figure out the way I am feeling and how to tell what other people are feeling.

I know when Ellie is frowning, she is mad. And when she is laughing, she is happy. But the other stuff is harder to figure out. I don’t understand when she looks at me sometimes and her mouth turns down. It makes me nervous.

And I feel sad when Ellie is mean to me. When she is with her friends she is just as mean as they are.

I want to cry when she calls me bad words. I don’t like it when she cusses. I told her that once and then she got mad and called me something even worse. Then she laughed with her friends and I felt bad.

But she is nice to me in class and then I’m happy again.

She is pretty. When I go home, I’ll draw her face. But I still hate the colors she puts in her hair.

She came to school one day without any color in it and she looked really nice. I told her she was pretty and she smiled at me. And I felt weird inside again. It was like a tingling but better.

My mom isn’t able to pick me up after school today and I am worried. She started a new job and she told me sometimes I would have to walk home. I didn’t want to walk home. It was really far. I would get lost.

So Mom bought me a watch and told me it would take me eighteen minutes to walk home. Mom and I had walked back and forth from school to my house five times over the weekend so I knew where I was going.

Mom was right. It took exactly eighteen minutes to get home. I knew which houses I’d see and how long it should take. Mom had written down the times so I could check my watch.

But I am still nervous.

My stomach feels tight as I start to walk down the road after school. What if Dania or Stu try to hurt me? What if they yell at me and call me names? That makes me worry. I rub my hands together. Up and down. Over and over again.

“Hey!” I hear someone yell but I won’t look at them. I just have to keep walking. I am scared it is Dania or Stu.

“Hey!” they call out again and I start to walk faster. I don’t want to be called names again. I don’t want to feel angry.

“Flynn, stop!” A hand grabs my arm and I flinch back.