David A.
8th Grade Level
District 97
Prose
For as long as I can remember, I hated sports. People
like John Benton made sports a nightmare instead of “just for fun”. If
you missed a pass, some teammates would curse and yell at you, plus your
opponents would rejoice at your clumsiness. So, I never played sports
a lot. I even made excuses, like I sprained my ankle, to weasel my
way out of gym. But when the torment of gym was over, I headed home
on the bus, locked myself into my small room, and began my real adventure. Board
games, role playing games, video games, trading card games, chess – you name
the game – I was the master of it. I loved the feeling
of crushing my opponents with my mighty hand.
In games you can be anybody. I was Lord Steve,
the conqueror of nations and destroyer of worlds. He who opposed
me would be ground to dust with the wave of my hand. I just
wished my fantasy world was the also my reality.
In the “real world”, I was just a scrawny African-American
eighth grader, with the self esteem as low as the abyss. In reality,
I did not crush my oppressors, they crushed me. I felt that every group
in the school turned me down. I liked chess, but was too shy at the time,
to join the school’s chess team. I felt if I joined, I would be an
even easier target than I was already. My father and I did not have
a good relationship either. So, I was not a family man, nor was I the
most popular kid at school – but all that changed. This
is my story.
“Breep, breep, breep”, went the alarm clock, blasting so loud
that I jumped out of bed in surprise. I need to throw that thing away,
I thought to myself. I sluggishly arose from my bed, my neck and thighs
aching from discomfort. I probably slept wrong again, I surmised. I
stretched a bit and then turned off the alarm clock. Another exciting
day of school, I thought sarcastically. I grabbed my neatly ironed
sweater and jeans from my chair and I snuck downstairs, not wanting to be
discovered by my father. I didn’t have to look out the window to know
that it was dark. Every school morning I woke up extra early. It
gave me time to do my homework due that day. I would always daydream
during my homework time, and then draw cartoons for awhile to give the illusion
that I was doing my school work. Luckily for me, my parents never checked
my homework or got up early. I went downstairs, put my clothes on in
a stealth-like manner, and tip-toed into the kitchen. I quietly opened
the cabinet searching for some cereal. When I found none, I headed
over to the dining room where I whipped out my homework. For me, if
we did not have what I’m planning to eat, I would not explore other food
options. It’s not like I am spoiled or anything, it is just that I
am not a big eater. Eating is optional most of the time (this
is probably why am so skinny).
What does that mean? I thought to myself, tapping my
pencil point on the paper. Math was never my strong point. You
would think a classic geek like me would be a genius. That is not true. I’m
as dumb as a brick, but I still manage to have a C+ average. I turned
the paper over and closed my eyes. I can do this, I thought to myself. I
just need to dig deep into my mind, and remember what Mr. Blake said about
Algebra. What did he …
“Steven what are doing up so
early?”
Suddenly an icy streak ran down my spine
and a warm trickle of fresh sweat rushed down my arm. I was
caught.
“U-Um I was, ‘er doing my studies. I have a history test
you know and I wanted to review the material so I can be prepared.” I
was very satisfied with myself for thinking up such a great excuse
in such a limited time, but could I keep it up?
“Let me see the paper Steve”, said my father sternly, still
in the doorway. He didn’t seem to notice my lie, which was quite a
surprise because he wasn’t stupid. I cursed at myself for making a
mistake in my lie. Why did I say history, why did I say history?
“Didn’t you hear me the first time? Give me the paper”,
said my father in an angry voice. My heart seemed to instantly halt. What
am I going to do, I thought to myself, once he sees it is a math paper he
will know I’m lying. I rapidly looked around the room. My father
was in the doorway standing impatiently. Whatever I needed to do, I
needed to do it fast. Then it hit me. Since father was
half asleep with his eyes slightly closed, I can quickly switch papers.
“Don’t make me come over there Steven, give me that paper!” he
bellowed.
“Um, sorry Dad, I was just daydreaming, here you go.” I
quickly switched papers and was about to hand him the second set,
when he grabbed my hand.
“Give me the first paper Steven. Another stunt like that
and you’ll be in a mess of trouble.” My father was now wide
awake ready to punish me if necessary.
“Here”, I said putting down my history study
guide and grabbing my math work sheet.
“Hmm… I see…, so you were trying to do your
homework just now, eh?”
“Well, yes but it’s just like doing it yesterday. I’m
still doing it aren’t I?”
“As far as I can remember,” continued my father calmly, “you
were watching the television yesterday. You disobeyed your mother and
me. You know the rule, no homework means no television.”
This was really starting to creep me out. My
father was usually a hothead, but now he kept a steady volume to his voice. He
was controlling his anger! But what for? I knew it wasn’t for
me or my mother’s benefit; he was too selfish for that. Perhaps he
was trying to impress someone, like the teachers, or his boss so maybe he
could get recognized for being a “nice guy”. I started to get angry. Was
he the only thing he ever cared about, I wondered. At that point, I
hated my father. Right then, every single thing about him disgusted
me. My father walked over to the table. My stomach started to
get queasy and my body stiffened. But, he just grabbed the chair next
to me and looked me straight in the eyes, still keeping a mild, casual expression
on his face. He was not smiling, but he was not frowning either. I
could no longer read his motives. Were those parenting classes he said
he was taking, the result of this? In order for him to impress
them, he had to trick me too, but I was not going to let that happen.
“Son, you are smarter than this”, whispered
my father setting the paper on the table gently.
I responded, “Just because I look and act like a nerd,
doesn’t mean I’m smart.”
“I’m not saying that son. I’m just saying that you can
do much better than this. This is not your full potential.”
“Yeah, like you would know”. I replied sardonically. All
the pain, sorrow, and bitterness seemed to just spill out all at once. “You’ve
never been there for me Dad, so how would you know what my ‘full potential’
is? You don’t have a clue to what I’m going through. Kids
at school are constantly pushing me around just because of who I am.
It’s not that bad for the common geek. They
get good grades, and have normal and loving parents. Me,
I have a hotheaded, drunkard for a father who only cares about himself and
a mother who is never here. And would you drop the “good guy” act. I
know the truth!” I felt hot streams of tears flooding my eyes and rushing
down my face. I finally got all of my emotions out, so why was I crying? It
was because nothing was going to change despite my cries of anger,
nothing; just more pain and emptiness.
“I’m sorry son that I wasn’t there for you.” he
lightly placed his hand on my back.
“That’s the last time you touch me.” I
said as I slapped his hand away.
My father sighed and replied, “I wish
your mother was here and not away on that Asian business trip.”
“Like she would help.” I muttered to
myself.
“That is quite enough from you.” said my father in a
slightly louder voice. “I try to help and you blow me off. I
know you are still scared from what I did in the past. I can’t change
that, but I can be a better father now. Go to your room, we will have
a talk once you’ve calmed down.”
“I’ll do more than that!” I shouted not crying anymore. “I’m
out of this shack for good.” I stomped up to my room where I packed
my clothes in my suitcase sloppily. I grabbed my coat and walked
out the door where I was stopped by my massive father right in the
doorway.
“You can leave, I won’t stop you. But what you said down
there hurt me. Yes, I was a former alcoholic, but now I haven’t drank
for years. I have taken parenting classes to better myself. I
work countless hours to put food on the table and to send you to school. The
truth is, Steven, I do care. You just haven’t opened your eyes
to see it.”
He moved out of the way so I could get through
the door, and I walked down the stairs to the outside porch where
it was still dark and was freezing. Behind me, I heard my father walk down the
stairs and he said, “There will be food on the porch every night around
seven o’clock.”
I found out that running away wasn’t such a hot idea. The
cold blistering winds convinced me. I had to sit and rest. The
ground wasn’t an option, since it was frozen from the frost of winter. I
then decided that my only option was the park. As I walked to the park,
I noticed a boy from my school sitting at a bus stop. I went over to
greet him seeing that he appeared to look downcast. I found
out that he was a runaway too.
“So what’s your story?” asked the boy as he looked up,
revealing a black eye. It was massively swollen.
“My father is pretending to be a nice guy just to impress someone. He
doesn’t care about me or what’s going on in my miserable life.”
He started to laugh but was cut short. He bent over,
grabbing his chest in pain. He had been hurt badly, but by whom? He
then said, “That’s it, that’s why you ran away? Ha, me? I
ran away because my dad beats me.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry …”
“Don’t be sorry for me!” He said sternly. “I got beat
this morning for nothing. He hurt me real bad, I couldn’t take it anymore. So
I ran as fast as I could. The boy squeezed his hands until they were
whitish yellow and continued, “You should be ashamed of yourself. Your
dad is actually trying to change, my pop … he’ll never change. You’re
lucky – blessed even to have a father that loves you. Running
away was a bad idea, you should go back.”
After thinking about what the boy said, I
noticed I was wrong everyway you cut it. I decided to return
home that night.