<em>Brrrring! Brrrring! Brrrring!</em>
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/E0UoHzl.jpg" height="200" width="300">
The sound of your alarm clock wakes you up instantly. You turn on your side and cover your head with your pillow, trying to catch a few more precious moments of sleep.
It doesn’t work.
[[Get out of bed]]
[[Stay in bed]]You turn off your alarm clock and get out of bed.
You turn off your alarm clock and get out of bed. <em>Just like always</em>, you think to yourself.
<em>You are Alex Owens. You were born 18 years ago to two loving parents. Where are you now?</em>
You shake yourself out of it. As you walk over to your dresser, you think about what you might wear today. You pick out your outfit and start to get dressed.
<em>I’m home</em>, you think to yourself. <em>This is silly, I know where I am.</em>
While your mind is wandering, you almost forget to put socks on. You catch yourself and pick out a pair of socks to wear.
[[Red socks]]
[[Yellow socks]]
You turn off your alarm clock and roll over. You begin to fall asleep, then panic, realizing that you have school today. You get out of bed.
You turn off your alarm clock and get out of bed. <em>Just like always, you think to yourself.</em>
<em>You are Alex Owens. You were born 18 years ago to two loving parents. Where are you now?</em>
You shake yourself out of it. As you walk over to your dresser, you think about what you might wear today. You pick out your outfit and start to get dressed.
<em>I’m home</em>, you think to yourself. <em>This is silly, I know where I am.</em>
While your mind is wandering, you almost forget to put socks on. You catch yourself and pick out a pair of socks to wear.
[[Red socks]]
[[Yellow socks]]You pick out a pair of red socks and put them on.
As you look up from your feet, you catch a glimpse of a family photo on your wall. You see a younger version of yourself, along with your mother and father.<em>Mom…</em>
Your mother. You start to remember…
<em>You were born 18 years ago to two once-loving parents. Your parents had you, then they stopped loving each other. Then, they split up. You still don’t really know your mom; she left your dad when you were only three years old. That doesn’t stop you from thinking about what could have happened. What if she had raised you, and not your dad?</em>
You go downstairs to get breakfast.
[[Get breakfast]]You pick out a pair of yellow socks and put them on.
As you look up from your feet, you catch a glimpse of a family photo on your wall. You see a younger version of yourself, along with your mother and father. <em>Mom…</em>
Your mother. You start to remember…
<em>You were born 18 years ago to two once-loving parents. Your parents had you, then they stopped loving each other. Then, they split up. You still don’t really know your mom; she left your dad when you were only three years old. That doesn’t stop you from thinking about what could have happened. What if she had raised you, and not your dad?</em>
You go downstairs to get breakfast.
[[Get breakfast]] You walk downstairs. It’s quiet; your dad must be sleeping still. It’s not even that early.
Oh well.
<em>Your dad did his best. He had to learn how to raise a child all by himself; you know you shouldn’t drag him like that. You love your dad.</em>
A quiet grumble comes from your stomach. It’s time to eat.
[[Milk and Cereal]]
[[Toast]]You open the refrigerator and grab the milk, then open the cupboard and grab the cereal and a bowl. Like any self-respecting human being, you pour the cereal first.
<em>I don’t want to go to school today</em>, you think to yourself.
Deep in thought, you don’t realize that your bowl of cereal is now overflowing.
<em>I’ll have to get on the bus, and what if…</em>
The sound of cereal spilling on the floor snaps you out of it. You sigh and shake your head, then clean up the mess. You pour the milk and put it away, glancing at your schedule on the refrigerator door.
<em>Ugh, I have math first today. I hate that class. Plus, that one weird girl that sits next to me might start to freak out again.</em>
You sit down and eat your cereal.
<em>Then, there’s that one couple in English that is always a little too touchy-feely. I should just stay home…</em>
You glance at the picture of your mom on the refrigerator door.
<em>I should get ready. I can relax when I get back home.</em>
You finish eating your bowl of cereal and put the bowl in the sink. Glancing at the clock, you see it’s already 7:30am. Your bus comes at 7:35am.
[[Get to the bus]]You open the refrigerator and grab the loaf of bread. You take a slice and put it in the toaster. Still groggy, you nearly forget to turn it on, but you do. You sit down on at the kitchen table and start to nod off.
<em>I don’t want to go to school today</em>, you think to yourself.
Deep in thought, you don’t realize that your toast is now burning.
<em>I’ll have to get on the bus, and what if…</em>
The smell of burning toast snaps you out of it. You panic and take out the toast; it’s burnt, but salvageable. You put the loaf of bread in the refrigerator, glancing at your schedule on the refrigerator door.
<em>Ugh, I have math first today. I hate that class. Plus, that one weird girl that sits next to me might start to freak out again.</em>
You sit down and butter your toast with a butter knife.
<em>Then, there’s that one couple in English that is always a little too touchy-feely. I should just stay home…</em>
You glance at the picture of your mom on the refrigerator door.
<em>I should get ready. I can relax when I get back home.</em>
You put the knife in the sink and start to eat your toast. Glancing at the clock, you see it’s already 7:30am. Your bus comes at 7:35am.
[[Get to the bus]] Now fully awake due to the mishaps during breakfast, your inner thoughts seem to disappear. You grab your backpack from the couch and start to walk out the door.
The bus stop is only a block away from your house, so you make it on time. It’s very crowded at the bus stop, but you see a small group of your friends through the crowd of the other passengers. You move past a few strangers and say hello to your friends, only for them to tease you for being late.
“Always-Late-Alex. At least you made the bus this time,” says one.
You scoff. “I’ve made the bus more times than you’ve made it to second base.”
A chorus of <em>OOOs</em> follows, but it’s soon masked by the roar of the approaching city bus. The bus stops and the crowd starts filing in. Your friends are near the front of the crowd, so you follow them into the bus to get your seats.
Your friends find a row of open seats and sit down, but there’s only enough seats for them. You look around for another open spot, but there only appears to be one.
You start to panic.
Two black men, slightly older than you, sit on either side of the open seat. They’re wearing dark, baggy clothes and talking to a third black man standing nearby. The one standing is holding something suspicious. You think back to news clips you’ve seen on TV talking about crime rates on the rise in your neighborhood, and you don’t want to be another target. What if they’re dangerous? What if they steal something from you when you’re not looking?
You think about what your dad would do. You think back to times he’s taken you downtown, and how he always avoids <em>people</em> like these. You think about what he’s said about them once you get off the bus, how they’re thugs and should be dealt with. You think…
You feel extremely nervous and want to leave. You see the last few people from the crowd start to sit down; the bus is about to leave. You have to decide now.
[[Sit in the seat]]
[[Get off the bus]]You sit down in the seat. The doors of the bus close; there’s no going back now.
You feel afraid. It must be showing on your face, because the same friend that teased you is now giving you a concerned look. You feign a smile.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/EjwC8j6.jpg" alt="bus picture" height="300" width="400">
The bus starts to move. You take a few deep breaths and start to calm down. You notice that the black men aren’t really men after all; they’re kids like you. You even recognize the one that’s standing; he’s in your math class. It seems like they’re talking about something, but you can’t really tell. You listen in.
“...so I was just walking, and I found this on the ground. It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?” says the one standing.
“Yeah, whatever. Cool necklace. Who cares?” spouts the one on your right.
“It could belong to someone. Don’t be such a dick,” says the one on your left.
The one standing seems to look at you for a second, then says your name.
“Alex, right? From calculus?” he says.
“Yeah. John, right?” you say.
By now, you’ve calmed down and you can feel it. <em>Maybe they’re not so dangerous after all</em>, you think to yourself. <em>Actually, they’re not dangerous at all. Why was I afraid to...</em>
You notice that John has been talking to you for a minute now and you snap out of it. He tells you about a pendant he found on the sidewalk when he was walking to the bus stop. He offers to give it to you.
“I don’t wanna be responsible for it. Maybe you can find who it belongs to? Just promise you’ll try and look for them; I know I’d hate to lose something like that,” he says.
You tell him you will, and you take the pendant.
<em>Things are looking up for me today</em>, you think to yourself.
[[Take the pendant]]
You panic. You can’t sit next to them; they’re dangerous. You run to the side door of the bus and get off. You see your friend get up and ask you what’s wrong, but the door closes and the bus takes off.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/8F94yoQ.jpg" alt="bus picture" height=“200” width=“200”>
It’s 7:40am and school is a 30 minute walk away. You start to walk.
You wonder if you made the right decision.
[[Next..]]You continue to talk with John, and he introduces you to his friends. Your friends notice you talking to them and give you a strange look; you ignore it.
The bus finally arrives at your school. You walk with John to your math class and talk about the teacher and his “antiquated” way of teaching. You both agree that it’ll be a long class today.
You both get to your classroom and sit in your seats. You look at the clock.
7:58am. Early.
Nice.
You get your binder, papers, and calculator out of your backpack and put them on your desk. You’re ready.
You reach into your backpack to grab a writing utensil.
[[Pencil ]]
[[Pen]]You half-walk, half-jog to school. It feels like it’s still miles away, even though you’ve been walking for 15 minutes. You really regret taking the bus now. <em>But what if they were…</em>
A car drives by and you lose your train of thought.
After an eternity of walking, you arrive at school. You walk to your math class, but your professor, Mr. Wernher, has already started teaching. He shoots you a dirty look and continues his lecture.
You find your seat and look at the clock.
8:21am.
Crap.
You hurriedly take your binder, papers, and calculator out from your backpack. You open your backpack and look for a writing utensil.
[[Grab a pencil]]
[[Grab a pen]]You grab your pencil from your backpack and put it on the desk. Your professor, Mr. Wernher walks in; he seems grumpier than usual. A few minutes pass by, and the announcements come on over the loudspeaker.
While the announcements blare, you notice the desk next to you - the one where the <em>weird</em> girl sits - is empty. <em>Strange</em>, you think. <em>She’s always on time; she’s more paranoid about being late than I am.</em>
As if some outside entity read your mind, the girl walks in. She looks slightly disheveled. Mr. Wernher shoots her a dirty look; she’s not late, but she’s not exactly on time, either. And for Mr. Wernher, early is on time, and on time is late.
The announcements end and Mr. Wernher begins his lecture. You pay attention as best as you can, but he’s just not a great teacher in general. He writes a question up on the board and looks at you.
“What is the derivative of x squared divided by two?”
[[x ]]
[[x divided by four]]You grab your pen from your backpack and put it on the desk. Your professor, Mr. Wernher walks in; he seems grumpier than usual. A few minutes pass by, and the announcements come on over the loudspeaker.
While the announcements blare, you notice the desk next to you - the one where the <em>weird</em> girl sits - is empty. <em>Strange</em>, you think. <em>She’s always on time; she’s more paranoid about being late than I am.</em>
As if some outside entity read your mind, the girl walks in. She looks slightly disheveled. Mr. Wernher shoots her a dirty look; she’s not late, but she’s not exactly on time, either. And for Mr. Wernher, early is on time, and on time is late.
The announcements end and Mr. Wernher begins his lecture. You pay attention as best as you can, but he’s just not a great teacher in general. He writes a question up on the board and looks at you.
“What is the derivative of x squared divided by two?”
[[x ]]
[[x divided by four]] You grab your pencil from your backpack and start to take notes. Mr. Wernher seems to be in the middle of a problem, but you follow along the best you can.
It’s not working.
<em>What a crappy teacher</em>, you think to yourself. <em>He couldn’t teach a math problem even if his life was on the line.</em>
You snap out of it, and notice that he has written a question on the board. He looks at you.
“What is the derivative of x squared divided by two?”
[[ “What’s a derivative?”]]
[[ X divided by four]]You reach for your pen, but can’t seem to find it. Mr. Wernher seems to be in the middle of a problem, but you follow along the best you can.
It’s not working.
<em>What a crappy teacher</em>, you think to yourself. <em>He couldn’t teach a math problem even if his life was on the line.</em>
You snap out of it, and notice that he has written a question on the board and is looking at you.
“What is the derivative of x squared divided by two?”
Without a writing utensil, you’re unable to work out the question.
[[ “What’s a derivative?”]]
[[ Do nothing]]You raise your hand.
“It’s just x,” you say confidently.
Mr. Wernher gives you a slight head nod. He seems pleased. You notice the girl to your right - <em>the weird one</em> - is shaking her head in confusion. Something seems wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.
“Good. Next question,” Mr. Wernher says.
He begins to write another question up on the board. The girl on your right raises her hand hesitantly - probably to ask a question, you guess - but Mr. Wernher is busy writing the question on the board.
Mr. Wernher turns around and reveals the question.
“What is the derivative of three times x squared divided by x? Ah, Grace, you must be very eager to answer the question, your hand is already up!” he says.
You notice the girl is taken aback. She says, “No, professor, I actually had a questi-”
“Nonsense,” he says, “you should know this. You felt compelled to skip the first few minutes of lecture anyways.”
While Mr. Wernher is talking to Grace, you work out the problem by yourself.
[[three ]]
[[six times x ]]You raise your hand.
“It’s x divided by four,” you say.
Mr. Wernher shakes his head in disappointment. He does not seem pleased.
“It is clearly just x. Did you not pay attention in these last five minutes, Alex?” he scolds.
You notice the girl to your right - <em>the weird one</em> - is shaking her head in confusion. Something seems wrong, but you can’t put your finger on it.
“Next question,” Mr. Wernher says.
He begins to write another question up on the board. The girl on your right raises her hand hesitantly - probably to ask a question, you guess - but Mr. Wernher is busy writing the question on the board.
Mr. Wernher turns around and reveals the question.
“What is the derivative of three times x squared divided by x? Ah, Grace, you must be very eager to answer the question, your hand is already up!” he says.
You notice the girl is taken aback. She says, “No, professor, I actually had a questi-”
“Nonsense,” he says, “you should know this. You felt compelled to skip the first few minutes of lecture anyways. Hopefully at least one of us can answer correctly.” You feel his gaze on you as he says this, but you ignore it.
While Mr. Wernher is talking to Grace, you work out the problem by yourself.
[[three ]]
[[six times x ]] You raise your hand timidly.
“What’s a derivative?” you ask.
Mr. Wernher scoffs in disgust. He looks angry.
<em>“What is a derivative?</em> Did you not pay attention, Alex?! Or were you too busy walking into class eleven minutes late?” he scolds.
You notice the girl to your right - <em>the weird one</em>- seems upset by the situation.
“Next question,” Mr. Wernher says.
He begins to write another question up on the board. The girl on your right raises her hand hesitantly - probably to ask a question, you guess - but Mr. Wernher is busy writing the question on the board.
Mr. Wernher turns around and reveals the question.
“What is the derivative of three times x squared divided by x? Ah, Grace, you must be <em>very</em> eager to answer the question, your hand is already up!” he says.
You notice the girl is taken aback. She says, “No, professor, I actually had a questi-”
“Nonsense,” he says, “you should know this. You’ve been here for the full lecture today.” You feel his gaze on you as he says this, but you ignore it.
While Mr. Wernher is talking to Grace, you work out the problem by yourself.
[[Look in a book]]
[[Write a random answer]]You raise your hand.
“It’s x divided by four,” you say.
Mr. Wernher shakes his head in disappointment. He does not seem pleased.
“It is clearly just x. Did you not pay attention, Alex? Or were you too busy walking into class eleven minutes late?” he scolds.
You notice the girl to your right - <em>the weird one</em> - seems slightly upset by the situation.
“Next question,” Mr. Wernher says.
He begins to write another question up on the board. The girl on your right raises her hand hesitantly - probably to ask a question, you guess - but Mr. Wernher is busy writing the question on the board.
Mr. Wernher turns around and reveals the question.
“What is the derivative of three times x squared divided by x? Ah, Grace, you must be <em>very</em> eager to answer the question, your hand is already up!” he says.
You notice the girl is taken aback. She says, “No, professor, I actually had a questi-”
“Nonsense,” he says, “you should know this. You’ve been here for the full lecture today.” You feel his gaze on you as he says this, but you ignore it.
While Mr. Wernher is talking to Grace, you work out the problem by yourself.
[[Look in a book]]
[[Write a random answer]] You sit there and look at your paper, trying to avoid Mr. Wernher’s gaze.
“What did <em>you</em> get, Alex?” he asks.
“I don’t have anything to write with. I can’t figure it out,” you say timidly.
Mr. Wernher scoffs in disgust. He looks angry.
“<em>You don’t have anything to write with?</em> Are you joking? Maybe if you were here on time, you would have been prepared,” he scolds.
You notice the girl to your right - <em>the weird one</em> - seems upset by the situation. She reaches into her bag and hands you a pencil. You hesitantly reach out and grab it, then wipe it off. She acts strange, and you don’t know where that pencil has been.
“Next question,” Mr. Wernher says.
He begins to write another question up on the board. The girl on your right raises her hand hesitantly - probably to ask a question, you guess - but Mr. Wernher is busy writing the question on the board.
Mr. Wernher turns around and reveals the question.
“What is the derivative of three times x squared divided by x? Ah, Grace, you must be <em>very</em> eager to answer the question, your hand is already up!” he says.
You notice the girl is taken aback. She says, “No, professor, I actually had a questi-”
“Nonsense,” he says, “you should know this. You’ve been here for the full lecture today.” You feel his gaze on you as he says this, but you ignore it.
While Mr. Wernher is talking to Grace, you work out the problem by yourself.
[[Look in a book]]
[[Write a random answer]] You work out the answer and you get three.
“Come on Grace, we don’t have all day. This is <em>easy</em>. What is your answer?” Mr. Wernher sneers.
“I.. uh.. just give me one minute, I-” Grace stammers. You see a tear form. She’s weird. Why can’t she just work out an answer?
“Grace. What is the answer?” Mr. Wernher doesn’t seem happy.
You see more tears forming in Grace’s eyes. She looks like she’s about to cry. You think back to your childhood; if you ever cried in front of your dad, he would order you to stop. If you didn’t, he would leave. You vividly remember what happened when you were only six years old.
You were with your dad, shopping for groceries like you did every week. When you passed by the toy aisle, you saw the perfect toy car. Your dad let you get toys sometimes, but only if he was in a good mood. He wasn’t very happy today, but you tugged on his shirt anyway and ran to the toy car. You picked it up and showed it to him, the biggest grin on your face. You looked like you had just found a million dollars. He looked at you with a stern face and shook his head and told you to put it down. Your grin faded instantly, replaced with a single tear in your eye and quivering lips. <em>Only one dollar</em>, you told him. He told you to put it back.
The tear in your eye rolled down your cheek, only to be followed by three more. Your dad noticed.
“If you don’t stop crying right now, we’re going to go straight home.” You always got ice cream with your dad after you went grocery shopping. You sauntered over to the toy rack and put the car back, another tear rolling down your face. You turned around, only for your dad to see the tear.
“What did I tell you?” he demanded. “If you don’t stop right now Alex, I-”
You panicked. He was scaring you, and you just wanted the toy car - it was only a dollar - but you wanted ice cream and you didn’t know what you were doing and you were so sad and...
“I want Mommy,” you choked out. You don’t know why you said it. You started crying more.
Your dad looked at you, and started walking away.
“Dad no! Dad! I’m sorry I’m sorry! Dad!” you cried out, but he kept walking and the tears kept coming. You sat on the ground, tears streaming down your cheeks and small wails escaping your quivering lips. Some lady saw you and came up to you, asking what was wrong. You tried to explain, but all you could get out was, “Dad, I, I’m sorry, I…” She gave you a hug and the tears started to go away. She helped you up, and once you calmed down she took you to the customer service desk. She said something to the workers, but you couldn’t hear it; you were too busy worrying about what your dad would do.
You heard your dad’s name over the speakers in the store. A few minutes later you saw him. He had to have seen your puffy red eyes, but he didn’t even seem to look at you. He talked to the workers and showed them some card, then apologized, saying that you had run off. You walked with him to the checkout, then to the car, then home. He didn’t say anything to you. You went up to your room and thought about the car, and the ice cream, and your mom. Then, you fell asleep.
You didn’t cry in front of your dad after that. Crying is bad, and you shouldn’t cry.
You hear a quiet sob come from Grace, and it snaps you out of it. She puts her head on the table.
“Fine. The answer is three. Next question,” Mr. Wernher says.
He writes a question up on the board and looks around the room.
“What is the derivative of x to the three halves power?” he asks to no one in particular.
You try to ignore Grace, and you work out the question.
[[Three times root x divided by two]]
[[x divided by two]]You work out the answer and you get six times x.
“Come on Grace, we don’t have all day. This is <em>easy</em>. What is your answer?” Mr. Wernher sneers.
“I.. uh.. just give me one minute, I-” Grace stammers. You see a tear form. She’s weird. Why can’t she just work out an answer?
“Grace. What is the answer?” Mr. Wernher doesn’t seem happy.
You see more tears forming in Grace’s eyes. She looks like she’s about to cry. You think back to your childhood; if you ever cried in front of your dad, he would order you to stop. If you didn’t, he would leave. You vividly remember what happened when you were only six years old.
You were with your dad, shopping for groceries like you did every week. When you passed by the toy aisle, you saw the perfect toy car. Your dad let you get toys sometimes, but only if he was in a good mood. He wasn’t very happy today, but you tugged on his shirt anyway and ran to the toy car. You picked it up and showed it to him, the biggest grin on your face. You looked like you had just found a million dollars. He looked at you with a stern face and shook his head and told you to put it down. Your grin faded instantly, replaced with a single tear in your eye and quivering lips. <em>Only one dollar</em>, you told him. He told you to put it back.
The tear in your eye rolled down your cheek, only to be followed by three more. Your dad noticed.
“If you don’t stop crying right now, we’re going to go straight home.” You always got ice cream with your dad after you went grocery shopping. You sauntered over to the toy rack and put the car back, another tear rolling down your face. You turned around, only for your dad to see the tear.
“What did I tell you?” he demanded. “If you don’t stop right now Alex, I-”
You panicked. He was scaring you, and you just wanted the toy car - it was only a dollar - but you wanted ice cream and you didn’t know what you were doing and you were so sad and...
“I want Mom,” you choked out. You don’t know why you said it. You started crying more.
Your dad looked at you, and started walking away.
“Dad no! Dad! I’m sorry I’m sorry! Dad!” you cried out, but he kept walking and the tears kept coming. You sat on the ground, tears streaming down your cheeks and small wails escaping your quivering lips. Some lady saw you and came up to you, asking what was wrong. You tried to explain, but all you could get out was, “Dad, I, I’m sorry, I…” She gave you a hug and the tears started to go away. She helped you up, and once you calmed down she took you to the customer service desk. She said something to the workers, but you couldn’t hear it; you were too busy worrying about what your dad would do.
You heard your dad’s name over the speakers in the store. A few minutes later you saw him. He had to have seen your puffy red eyes, but he didn’t even seem to look at you. He talked to the workers and showed them some card, then apologized, saying that you had run off. You walked with him to the checkout, then to the car, then home. He didn’t say anything to you. You went up to your room and thought about the car, and the ice cream, and your mom. Then, you fell asleep.
You didn’t cry in front of your dad after that. Crying is bad, and you shouldn’t cry.
You hear a quiet sob come from Grace, and it snaps you out of it. She puts her head on the table.
“Fine. The answer is three. Next question,” Mr. Wernher says.
He writes a question up on the board and looks around the room.
“What is the derivative of x to the three halves power?” he asks to no one in particular.
You try to ignore Grace, and you work out the question.
[[Three times root x divided by two]]
[[x divided by two]]You look in the book for anything that could help you. You find a small hint for solving derivatives, but you hear Mr. Wernher’s voice and it grabs your attention.
“Come on Grace, we don’t have all day. This is <em>easy</em>. What is your answer?” Mr. Wernher sneers.
“I.. uh.. just give me one minute, I-” Grace stammers. You see a tear form. She’s weird. Why can’t she just work out an answer?
“Grace. What is the answer?” Mr. Wernher doesn’t seem happy.
You see more tears forming in Grace’s eyes. She looks like she’s about to cry. You think back to your childhood; if you ever cried in front of your dad, he would order you to stop. If you didn’t, he would leave. You vividly remember what happened when you were only six years old.
You were with your dad, shopping for groceries like you did every week. When you passed by the toy aisle, you saw the perfect toy car. Your dad let you get toys sometimes, but only if he was in a good mood. He wasn’t very happy today, but you tugged on his shirt anyway and ran to the toy car. You picked it up and showed it to him, the biggest grin on your face. You looked like you had just found a million dollars. He looked at you with a stern face and shook his head and told you to put it down. Your grin faded instantly, replaced with a single tear in your eye and quivering lips. <em>Only one dollar</em>, you told him. He told you to put it back.
The tear in your eye rolled down your cheek, only to be followed by three more. Your dad noticed.
“If you don’t stop crying right now, we’re going to go straight home.” You always got ice cream with your dad after you went grocery shopping. You sauntered over to the toy rack and put the car back, another tear rolling down your face. You turned around, only for your dad to see the tear.
“What did I tell you?” he demanded. “If you don’t stop right now Alex, I-”
You panicked. He was scaring you, and you just wanted the toy car - it was only a dollar - but you wanted ice cream and you didn’t know what you were doing and you were so sad and...
“I want Mom,” you choked out. You don’t know why you said it. You started crying more.
Your dad looked at you, and started walking away.
“Dad no! Dad! I’m sorry I’m sorry! Dad!” you cried out, but he kept walking and the tears kept coming. You sat on the ground, tears streaming down your cheeks and small wails escaping your quivering lips. Some lady saw you and came up to you, asking what was wrong. You tried to explain, but all you could get out was, “Dad, I, I’m sorry, I…” She gave you a hug and the tears started to go away. She helped you up, and once you calmed down she took you to the customer service desk. She said something to the workers, but you couldn’t hear it; you were too busy worrying about what your dad would do.
You heard your dad’s name over the speakers in the store. A few minutes later you saw him. He had to have seen your puffy red eyes, but he didn’t even seem to look at you. He talked to the workers and showed them some card, then apologized, saying that you had run off. You walked with him to the checkout, then to the car, then home. He didn’t say anything to you. You went up to your room and thought about the car, and the ice cream, and your mom. Then, you fell asleep.
You didn’t cry in front of your dad after that. Crying is bad, and you shouldn’t cry.
You hear a quiet sob come from Grace, and it snaps you out of it. She puts her head on the table.
“Fine. The answer is three. Next question,” Mr. Wernher says.
He writes a question up on the board and looks around the room.
“What is the derivative of x to the three halves power?” he asks to no one in particular.
You ignore Grace, and you try to work out the question.
[[Three times root x divided by two ]]
[[x divided by two ]]Confused and unsure what to do, you write random scribbles and numbers on your paper so Mr. Wernher doesn’t call you out.
“Come on Grace, we don’t have all day. This is <em>easy</em>. What is your answer?” Mr. Wernher sneers.
“I.. uh.. just give me one minute, I-” Grace stammers. You see a tear form. She’s weird. Why can’t she just work out an answer?
“Grace. What is the answer?” Mr. Wernher doesn’t seem happy.
You see more tears forming in Grace’s eyes. She looks like she’s about to cry. You think back to your childhood; if you ever cried in front of your dad, he would order you to stop. If you didn’t, he would leave. You vividly remember what happened when you were only six years old.
You were with your dad, shopping for groceries like you did every week. When you passed by the toy aisle, you saw the perfect toy car. Your dad let you get toys sometimes, but only if he was in a good mood. He wasn’t very happy today, but you tugged on his shirt anyway and ran to the toy car. You picked it up and showed it to him, the biggest grin on your face. You looked like you had just found a million dollars. He looked at you with a stern face and shook his head and told you to put it down. Your grin faded instantly, replaced with a single tear in your eye and quivering lips. <em>Only one dollar</em>, you told him. He told you to put it back.
The tear in your eye rolled down your cheek, only to be followed by three more. Your dad noticed.
“If you don’t stop crying right now, we’re going to go straight home.” You always got ice cream with your dad after you went grocery shopping. You sauntered over to the toy rack and put the car back, another tear rolling down your face. You turned around, only for your dad to see the tear.
“What did I tell you?” he demanded. “If you don’t stop right now Alex, I-”
You panicked. He was scaring you, and you just wanted the toy car - it was only a dollar - but you wanted ice cream and you didn’t know what you were doing and you were so sad and...
“I want Mom,” you choked out. You don’t know why you said it. You started crying more.
Your dad looked at you, and started walking away.
“Dad no! Dad! I’m sorry I’m sorry! Dad!” you cried out, but he kept walking and the tears kept coming. You sat on the ground, tears streaming down your cheeks and small wails escaping your quivering lips. Some lady saw you and came up to you, asking what was wrong. You tried to explain, but all you could get out was, “Dad, I, I’m sorry, I…” She gave you a hug and the tears started to go away. She helped you up, and once you calmed down she took you to the customer service desk. She said something to the workers, but you couldn’t hear it; you were too busy worrying about what your dad would do.
You heard your dad’s name over the speakers in the store. A few minutes later you saw him. He had to have seen your puffy red eyes, but he didn’t even seem to look at you. He talked to the workers and showed them some card, then apologized, saying that you had run off. You walked with him to the checkout, then to the car, then home. He didn’t say anything to you. You went up to your room and thought about the car, and the ice cream, and your mom. Then, you fell asleep.
You didn’t cry in front of your dad after that. Crying is bad, and you shouldn’t cry.
You hear a quiet sob come from Grace, and it snaps you out of it. She puts her head on the table.
“Fine. The answer is three. Next question,” Mr. Wernher says.
He writes a question up on the board and looks around the room.
“What is the derivative of x to the three halves power?” he asks to no one in particular.
You ignore Grace, and you work out the question.
[[Three times root x divided by two ]]
[[x divided by two ]]You work out the answer to be three times root x divided by two. You raise your hand, but Mr. Wernher ignores you.
“Grace, what are you doing?” he asks. “You know, the administrator came and talked to me earlier this week…”
Grace moves her head out of her hands and peers up at Mr. Wernher. You notice that more and more students realize what’s going on. You make eye contact with John and he gives you a worried look. Grace looks like a wreck.
“... he said that you need more time for things because of your ‘anxiety.’ We can just do that.” He makes air quotes when he says “anxiety”, and you can see Grace tilt her head in confusion and start to cry again. He pulls out a stopwatch.
“I’ll give you three minutes,” he says. “Solve the problem.”
Grace starts to cry again. You don’t understand why she’s crying; it’s just math. She looks like she’s about to curl into a ball and lose it.
You think about what your dad might do.
If you decide to do something, you need to do it now.
[[Help Grace]]
[[Do nothing]]You work out the answer to be x divided by two. You raise your hand, but Mr. Wernher ignores you.
“Grace, what are you doing?” he asks. “You know, the administrator came and talked to me earlier this week…”
Grace moves her head out of her hands and peers up at Mr. Wernher. You notice that more and more students realize what’s going on. You make eye contact with John and he gives you a worried look. Grace looks like a wreck.
“... he said that you need more time for things because of your ‘anxiety.’ We can just do that.” He makes air quotes when he says “anxiety”, and you can see Grace tilt her head in confusion and start to cry again. He pulls out a stopwatch.
“I’ll give you three minutes,” he says. “Solve the problem.”
Grace starts to cry again. You don’t understand why she’s crying; it’s just math. She looks like she’s about to curl into a ball and lose it.
You think about what your dad might do.
If you decide to do something, you need to do it now.
[[Help Grace]]
[[Do nothing]]You work out the answer to be three times root x divided by two. You raise your hand, but Mr. Wernher ignores you.
“Grace, what are you doing?” he asks. “You know, the administrator came and talked to me earlier this week…”
Grace moves her head out of her hands and peers up at Mr. Wernher. You notice that more and more students realize what’s going on. She looks like a complete wreck, you think to yourself.
“... he said that you need more time for things because of your ‘anxiety.’ We can just do that.” He makes air quotes when he says “anxiety”, and you can see Grace tilt her head in confusion and start to cry again. He pulls out a stopwatch.
“I’ll give you three minutes,” he says. “Solve the problem.”
Grace starts to cry again. She looks like she’s about to curl into a ball and lose it.
Why is she crying, you think to yourself. It’s just math.
You think about what your dad might do. You didn’t cry again after he left you in that aisle. It might work here, too. She needs to learn.
If you decide to do something, you need to do it now.
[[Help Grace ]]
[[Do Nothing]]You work out the answer to be x divided by two. You raise your hand, but Mr. Wernher ignores you.
“Grace, what are you doing?” he asks. “You know, the administrator came and talked to me earlier this week…”
Grace moves her head out of her hands and peers up at Mr. Wernher. You notice that more and more students realize what’s going on. She looks like a complete wreck, you think to yourself.
“... he said that you need more time for things because of your ‘anxiety.’ We can just do that.” He makes air quotes when he says “anxiety”, and you can see Grace tilt her head in confusion and start to cry again. He pulls out a stopwatch.
“I’ll give you three minutes,” he says. “Solve the problem.”
Grace starts to cry again. She looks like she’s about to curl into a ball and lose it.
Why is she crying, you think to yourself. It’s just math.
You think about what your dad might do. You didn’t cry again after he left you in that aisle. It might work here, too. She needs to learn.
If you decide to do something, you need to do it now.
[[Help Grace ]]
[[Do Nothing]]You can’t stand it any longer; you can’t let a teacher bully a student like this, even if you think she’s a little bit weird. Your dad was wrong; there’s a better way. Quietly, you get out of your chair and bend down next to Grace.
“Do you want me to take you to the office, away from him?” you whisper, kindness in your voice.
With her face still in her hands, she nods. She starts to get up, but Mr. Wernher notices.
“Where do you think you’re going, Grace? And Alex, you sit down. You’ve got no reason to be up.” he says.
Before you can say anything, John speaks up. “Leave them alone, you bully. You should be ashamed of yourself, picking on your own students.”
John turns to you and stands up. He helps you walk Grace out of the room while Mr. Wernher hurls threats and insults at all three of you. You escape and shut the door, then head to the administrator’s office.
“What an asshole,” John says to you. He looks at Grace. “Are you okay?”
Grace continues to sob, but she nods timidly.
You make it to the administrator’s office. You explain to the secretary what just happened, and they dial a number into her desk phone and repeat what you said to someone on the other end of the line. While the secretary relays what happened on the phone, Grace turns to you.
“Thank you,” she manages to say. By now, she’s regained her composure. “I thought no one would help… I was so embarrassed, and…”
“You’re welcome,” you reassure her. “No one should be treated like that. You don’t deserve to be mocked because of your anxiety, or because of any other mental health problems.”
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/DiHKM5v.jpg" alt="Grace Picture" height="300" width="400">
Grace smiles at you. A single tear runs down her face, but it doesn’t look like it’s from sadness.
The secretary hangs up their phone and tells you that the principal would like to see Grace. They reassure her that she’s not in trouble.
“Can I come with? I want to give him a piece of my mind, and I want to make sure Grace feels safe,” John says. The secretary nods, and John and Grace turn to walk into the principal’s office. John gives you a confident head nod, and Grace smiles and waves goodbye.
You feel like they’ll both be alright.
[[Next... ]]You ignore Grace; she’ll work it out. Opening your book, you decide to work out some more problems to distract yourself from the situation. You hear another student get up and help Grace out of the room, all while Mr. Wernher throws insults at them. You hear the door shut. John looks at you and shrugs.
“Now that the problem has left, let’s continue on with our lesson.” Mr. Wernher says.
He begins to write more questions on the board and calls on random students to solve them. You try and work them out, but you just aren’t getting it. After a few rounds of questions, Mr. Wernher goes back into his lecture. He drones on, and you feel yourself getting sleepy. <em>His lectures are always so boring, and he talks in such a monotonous voice, and can never finish his train of thought, and...</em>
You fall asleep at your desk, and no one notices.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/VI1jg27.jpg" alt="Grace Picture" height="400" width="500">
[[Next...]]You can’t stand it any longer; you can’t let a teacher bully a student like this, even if you think she’s weird. Your dad was wrong; there’s a better way. Quietly, you get out of your chair and bend down next to Grace.
“Do you want me to take you to the office, away from him?” you whisper, kindness in your voice.
With her face still in her hands, she nods. She starts to get up, but Mr. Wernher notices.
“Where do you think you’re going, Grace? And Alex, sit down. You’ve already proven that you don’t know what you’re doing. Leave her alone,” he says.
You ignore him and help Grace up, then walk her out of the room while Mr. Wernher hurls threats and insults at both of you. You escape and shut the door, then head to the administrator’s office.
“Are you okay?” you ask Grace.
Grace continues to sob, but she nods timidly.
You make it to the administrator’s office. You explain to the secretary what just happened, and they dial a number into her desk phone and repeat what you said to someone on the other end of the line. While the secretary relays what happened on the phone, Grace turns to you.
“Thank you,” she manages to say. By now, she’s regained her composure. “I thought no one would help… I was so embarrassed, and…”
“You’re welcome,” you reassure her. “No one should be treated like that. You don’t deserve to be mocked because of your anxiety, or because of any other mental health problems.”
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/DiHKM5v.jpg" alt="Grace Picture" height="300" width="400">
Grace smiles at you. A single tear runs down her face, but it doesn’t look like it’s from sadness.
The secretary hangs up their phone and tells you that the principal would like to see Grace. They reassure her that she’s not in trouble.
Grace turns to walk into the principal’s office. She turns around to you and smiles, then waves goodbye.
You feel like she’ll be alright.
[[Next... ]]You think about what your dad might have done. You ignore Grace; she’ll work it out, and she’ll learn not to cry. Maybe Mr. Wernher is right.
Opening your book, you decide to work out some more problems to distract yourself from the situation, but you can’t seem to figure them out. You hear another student get up and help Grace out of the room, all while Mr. Wernher throws insults at them. You hear the door shut. John looks at you and shrugs.
“Now that the problem has left, let’s continue on with our lesson.” Mr. Wernher says.
You nod.
He begins to write more questions on the board and calls on random students to solve them. You try and work them out, but you just aren’t getting it. After a few rounds of questions, Mr. Wernher goes back into his lecture. He drones on, and you feel yourself getting sleepy. <em>His lectures are always so boring, and he talks in such a monotonous voice, and can never finish his train of thought, and...</em>
You fall asleep at your desk, and no one notices.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/VI1jg27.jpg" alt="Grace Picture" height="400" width="500">
[[Next... ]]
You talk to the secretary for a moment about what happened and they reassure you that Grace will be alright. They offer to let you stay in the office until your next class so you don’t have to deal with Mr. Wernher. You willingly oblige and sit in the chair next to you.
You open your backpack and pull out a book you’ve been “reading” for your English class, then begin reading it. The secretary notices.
“<em>Orlando</em>, by Virginia Wolfe. I loved that book. I remember having to read it when I was in school here; is it for your English class?” they inquire.
“Yeah, it is. I think it’s okay, but my dad really doesn’t like it. He saw me reading it and looked it up online, then gave me this whole lecture on why it’s wrong,” you reply.
“Why is that?” they ask.
“I don’t know. He said something about how men should be men and women should be women, and they can’t be both. He told me it’s hogwash and I shouldn’t have to read it, so I’ve been putting it off,” you explain.
“How do you feel about it?” they ask.
You ponder for a moment. “I really don’t know, to be honest,” you say.
The bell rings. You thank the secretary and wave goodbye, then head out to the hallway for your next class.
[[next]]The bell goes off, and it startles you awake. You weren’t sure how long you were asleep for. Luckily, no one noticed.
“Sleeping in class again, Owens?” says a voice behind you.
You jump, but it’s just your friend Carrie. “I noticed you nodding off about twenty minutes ago, but Mr. Wernher was too caught up in his own BS to notice,” she says. <em>At least she was the only one to notice</em>, you think to yourself.
“C’mon, let’s get to English,” she says. You start to pack up your things and decide to make some small talk with her.
“How far did you get in the book last night?” you ask.
“<em>Orlando?</em> I’m up to page 80… chapter 7, I think?” she ponders. You notice she doesn’t sound too confident.
“Carrie, I’m pretty sure there’s only six chapters,” you say.
“Fine, you got me. How much of it have you read?” she asks.
“Actually, not that much. I can’t read it at home anymore after my dad saw me reading it. He looked it up online and told me that I shouldn’t be reading it; it’s ‘not normal.’ He says that ‘men should be men, and women should be women, and that there’s no in-between.’ I’ve only been able to read it in school,” you explain.
“You know, your dad has a point. It is pretty weird. I hate the book, honestly. Men <em>should</em> be men, and vice versa,” she vents.
You aren’t sure how to react.
You finish packing up and walk out of the classroom with Carrie, who continues to talk about her dislike of the book. Once you’re out in the hallway, you see crowds of students rushing to their classes. You look around for any of your friends, but can’t seem to find any.
“Speak of the devil!” Carrie exclaims. She points at two boys walking ahead of you. They’re holding hands and talking to each other.
“They shouldn’t be doing that in school. That’s inappropriate. I don’t know why anyone has said anything yet,” she complains.
“What do you mean?” you ask.
“Look at them! They’re trying to be all cute-sy in school and it’s pissing me off. That stuff isn’t right, you know. I’m going to go say something to them.” She speeds up her pace slightly.
“Carrie, wait,” you say. She turns around.
[[“Let’s leave them be.”]]
[[“I want to say something to them.”]]You talk to the secretary for a moment about what happened and they reassure you that Grace will be alright. They offer to let you stay in the office until your next class so you don’t have to deal with Mr. Wernher. You oblige and sit in the chair next to you.
You open your backpack and pull out a book you’ve been “reading” for your English class, then begin reading it. The secretary notices.
“<em>Orlando</em>, by Virginia Wolfe. I loved that book. I remember having to read it when I was in school here; is it for your English class?” they inquire.
“Yeah, it is. I think it’s okay, but my dad really doesn’t like it. He saw me reading it and looked it up online, then gave me this whole lecture on why it’s wrong,” you reply.
“Why is that?” they ask.
“I don’t know. He said something about how men should be men and women should be women, and they can’t be both. He told me it’s hogwash and I shouldn’t have to read it, so I’ve been putting it off,” you explain.
“How do you feel about it?” they ask.
You ponder for a moment. “He might have a point, I’m not sure,” you say. The secretary gives you a slightly worried look, but it doesn’t phase you.
The bell rings. You thank the secretary and wave goodbye, then head out to the hallway for your next class.
[[Next ]]The bell goes off, and it startles you awake. You weren’t sure how long you were asleep for. Luckily, no one noticed.
“Sleeping in class again, Owens?” says a voice behind you.
You jump, but it’s just your friend Carrie. “I noticed you nodding off about twenty minutes ago, but Mr. Wernher was too caught up in his own BS to notice,” she says. <em>At least she was the only one to notice, you think to yourself.</em>
“C’mon, let’s get to English,” she says. You start to pack up your things and decide to make some small talk with her.
“How far did you get in the book last night?” you ask.
“<em>Orlando?</em> I’m up to page 80… chapter 7, I think?” she ponders. You notice she doesn’t sound too confident.
“Carrie, I’m pretty sure there’s only six chapters,” you say.
“Fine, if <em>you’re</em> so smart, how much of it have <em>you</em> read?” she snaps.
“More than you. But, I can’t read it at home anymore after my dad saw me reading it. He looked it up online and told me that I shouldn’t be reading it; it’s ‘not normal.’ He says that ‘men should be men, and women should be women, and that there’s no in-between.’ I’ve only been able to read it in school,” you explain.
“Your dad’s right,” she vents. “I hate this book. Men should be men, and women should be women. No exceptions. It isn’t right.”
You shrug.
You finish packing up and walk out of the classroom with Carrie, who continues to talk about her hatred of the book. Once you’re out in the hallway, you see crowds of students rushing to their classes. You look around for any of your friends, but can’t seem to find any.
“Speak of the devil!” Carrie exclaims. She points at two boys walking ahead of you. They’re holding hands and talking to each other.
“They shouldn’t be doing that in school, or anywhere for that matter. It isn’t right.” she complains.
“What do you mean?” you ask.
“Look at them! They’re trying to be all cute-sy in school, holding hands and showing off. It’s pissing me off. That stuff isn’t right, you know. I’m going to go say something to them.” She speeds up her pace slightly.
“Carrie, wait,” you say. She turns around.
[["Let's leave them be." ]]
[["I want to give them a piece of my mind."]]You walk out into the hallway and try to navigate the crowd of students rushing to their classes. You look around for any friends in the crowd, but you aren’t able to see anyone. Oh well. You head in the direction of your English class.
Weaving through other students, you catch a glimpse of one of your friends about ten feet ahead of you. It’s Carrie; she’s in both your math class and your English class, so the two of you usually walk together. You try and get her attention, but she seems to be focused on something ahead of her.
“Hey!” you hear her yell. Confused, you walk faster and get closer to her. You’re able to see what she’s yelling at; two boys, walking ahead, holding hands.
Carrie has been very vocal in the past about the book you’re both reading for English class. She shares the same view on it that your dad does: “<em>Men should be men, and women should be women. No exceptions.”</em>
You look at the two boys. They’re about your age, and they’re walking together while holding hands. You feel an initial shudder; your dad would be disgusted. Not only does he dislike public displays of affection, but between two men? He would freak out. <em>No wonder Carrie is yelling at them,</em> you think to yourself. One of them is even whispering in the other’s ear. <em>This isn’t appropriate</em>, you think.
Carrie yells again. “Hey! You two! That’s disgusting, knock it off,” she barks at them. You see the two boys turn around. The boy on the right’s face looks red; you can’t tell why.
You’re within arms reach of Carrie by now, and she’s getting closer to the boys.
You don’t know what to do. Your dad would do exactly what Carrie is doing right now, but you don’t know if that’s the right thing to do. <em>But to stand up to Carrie and tell her to stop, that would be rough, and I could lose her as a friend</em>, you think to yourself. You aren’t sure what to do.
Carrie opens her mouth again. She’s about to yell again.
[[Tell her to stop]]
[[Say nothing]]“Let’s leave them be,” you say to Carrie.
“What do you mean? They’re being gross,” she urges. The two boys overhear this, and stop walking. Still holding hands, the taller one consoles the shorter one who starts to cry.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Yjzz1MF.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Look at those two over there,” you say as you point over to a couple walking together. “They’re holding hands, and you’re not saying anything to them.”
“But, but they’re not… that’s a boy and a girl. And over there, that’s two boys, and that’s not right!” she stammers.
“Carrie, you can’t treat people like that. They’re not hurting anyone,” you assure her.
“I… I guess you’re right. I still don’t like it, but they’re not hurting anybody,” she sighs. Carrie looks over at the two boys and notices one of them consoling the other. “Oh God, did I do that? I’m sorry Alex. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay, Carrie. Let’s go talk to them,” you reassure her. You both walk over to the boys and Carrie starts to apologize.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make him cry. I just don’t really… I don’t know, I don’t approve-” Carrie stammers, but the taller boy interrupts her.
“It’s fine, it’s just my friend,” the taller boy explains. “He’s been a wreck all day, I’m gonna take him to the nurse’s office. He couldn’t concentrate during our first hour after he lost his-”
“Wait, so you’re not together?” Carrie interrupts.
“Together? God no, we’re just friends. He’s just a little more sensitive and he’s having a rough day.” He stops talking momentarily to console his friend.
“Did you say he lost something?” you ask.
“Yes, yes, he lost his necklace,” the boy says. The shorter boy whispers something to the taller boy, and the taller boy corrects himself. “His <em>pendant</em>, sorry about that. He lost his pendant on the bus this morning; his mom gave it to him before she passed away.” The shorter boy starts to sob again, and the other one comforts him.
You think back to the bus ride this morning, back to what John and his friends were talking about. You reach into your backpack and pull out the pendant John gave you.
“It’s not this one, is it?” you ask as you show the pendant to the boys. The shorter boy peers his head up and you see his face immediately glow. He takes the pendant and thanks you repeatedly.
“This means the world to me. Thank you so much,” he says, tears in his eyes. You even see Carrie start to smile.
“What’s your name?” he asks you.
“Alex Owens,” you say.
“I won’t forget this, Alex Owens.” He and his friend turn away and head towards the nurse’s office.
You feel fulfilled.
[[Next]]“I want to say something to them,” you say.
Carrie’s face lights up. “You’re finally getting it, Owens,” she says. You both walk up to the boys and tap them on the shoulder. The shorter one is crying; <em>that must be why his face is red</em>, you think to yourself.
“You guys really shouldn’t be doing that around here, you know,” you tell them. “What’s your deal anyways?”
“Go screw yourself,” the taller one says. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. You don’t need this, not now.”
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/CCfzFhS.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
They walk away and head to the nurse’s office. You start to walk away with Carrie, but someone grabs your shoulder.
“My office. Now,” says a commanding voice. You turn around, and it’s the principal. Carrie slips away, unnoticed. You follow him into the administrator’s office and see the weird girl, Grace, walk out. You get to the principal’s office and you sit in the chair.
“What do you think you were doing out there?” she demands.
“They were making me uncomfortable, so I said something,” you explain.
“What exactly were they doing that made you so uncomfortable?” she asks sternly.
“They were holding hands! It’s disgusting! It’s just like in the book we’re reading in English. Men should be men, not do whatever they were just doing,” you say.
“You need to learn to respect others, no matter who they are. Your actions have been disgraceful. I’ll be calling your father; in the meantime, gather your things. You’ll be going home today,” she says as she scribbles on a piece of paper.
You wait, and she gives you a paper titled “Incident Report Form” with writing all over it. She leaves the room and you can hear her talking on the phone with someone. She comes back in and lectures you again on respect, then tells you to wait. After fifteen minutes, she informs you that your father has arrived and that you are to go home for the day.
You think your dad might be right about all this.
[[Next ]]You walk out into the hallway and try to navigate the crowd of students rushing to their classes. You look around for any friends in the crowd, but you aren’t able to see anyone. Oh well. You head in the direction of your English class.
Weaving through other students, you catch a glimpse of one of your friends about ten feet ahead of you. It’s Carrie; she’s in both your math class and your English class, so the two of you usually walk together. You try and get her attention, but she seems to be focused on something ahead of her.
“Hey!” you hear her yell. Confused, you walk faster and get closer to her. You’re able to see what she’s yelling at; two boys, walking ahead, holding hands.
Carrie has been very vocal in the past about the book you’re both reading for English class. She shares the same view on it that your dad does: <em>“Men should be men, and women should be women. No exceptions.”</em>
You look at the two boys. They’re about your age, and they’re walking together while holding hands. You feel an initial shudder; your dad would be disgusted. Not only does he dislike public displays of affection, but between two men? He would freak out. <em>No wonder Carrie is yelling at them</em>, you think to yourself. One of them is even whispering in the other’s ear. This isn’t appropriate, you think.
Carrie yells again. “Hey! You two! That’s disgusting, knock it off,” she barks at them. You see the two boys turn around. The boy on the right’s face looks red; you can’t tell why.
You’re within arms reach of Carrie by now, and she’s getting closer to the boys.
You don’t know what to do. Your dad would do exactly what Carrie is doing right now, but you don’t know if that’s the right thing to do. <em>But to stand up to Carrie and tell her to stop, that would be rough, and I could lose her as a friend</em>, you think to yourself. You aren’t sure what to do.
Carrie opens her mouth again. She’s about to yell again.
[[Tell her to stop ]]
[[Say nothing ]]“Let’s leave them be,” you say to Carrie.
“What do you mean? They’re being gross,” she urges. The two boys overhear this, and stop walking. Still holding hands, the taller one consoles the shorter one who starts to cry.
“Look at those two over there,” you say as you point over to a couple walking together. “They’re holding hands, and you’re not saying anything to them.”
“But, but they’re not… that’s a boy and a girl. And over there, that’s two boys, and that’s not right!” she stammers.
“Carrie, you can’t treat people like that. They’re not hurting anyone,” you assure her.
“I… I guess you’re right. I still don’t like it, but they’re not hurting anybody,” she sighs. Carrie looks over at the two boys and notices one of them consoling the other. “Oh God, did I do that? I’m sorry Alex. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Yjzz1MF.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“It’s okay, Carrie. Let’s go talk to them,” you reassure her. You both walk over to the boys and Carrie starts to apologize.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make him cry. I just don’t really… I don’t know, I don’t approve-” Carrie stammers, but the taller boy interrupts her.
“It’s fine, it’s just my friend,” the taller boy explains. “He’s been a wreck all day, I’m gonna take him to the nurse’s office. He couldn’t concentrate during our first hour after he lost his-”
“Wait, so you’re not together?” Carrie interrupts.
“Together? God no, we’re just friends. He’s just a little more sensitive and he’s having a rough day.” He stops talking momentarily to console his friend.
“Did you say he lost something?” you ask.
“Yes, yes, he lost his necklace,” the boy says. The shorter boy whispers something to the taller boy, and the taller boy corrects himself. “His <em>pendant</em>, sorry about that. He lost his pendant on the bus this morning; his mom gave it to him before she passed away.” The shorter boy starts to sob again, and the other one comforts him.
You think back to the bus this morning; you left so quickly, you didn’t get a chance to see anything. You don’t remember seeing a pendant.
“I haven’t seen any kind of pendant, but I’ll keep an eye out,” you reassure them. The shorter boy is still crying, but he seems to calm down a little bit. “I’m sorry. I’ll let you know if I find anything,” you say. You exchange phone numbers with the taller boy, and say goodbye as they continue on.
You feel regretful. <em>What if I had just stayed on the bus</em>, you think to yourself. You shake it off, and Carrie smiles at you. She feels much better now.
<em>The past is the past, nothing I can do now,</em> you think to yourself. You feel like you made the right decision in stopping Carrie.
[[Next... ]] “I want to give them a piece of my mind,” you say.
Carrie’s face lights up. “You’re finally getting it, Owens,” she says. You both walk up to the boys and tap them on the shoulder. The shorter one is crying; <em>that must be why his face is red,</em> you think to yourself. He’ll learn, just like Grace did.
“You guys are disgusting,” you tell them. “What’s your deal anyways? You think you can just walk around in public like that? I should tell your parents.”
“Go screw yourself,” the taller one says. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. You don’t need this crap, not now.”
They walk away and head to the nurse’s office. You start to walk away with Carrie, but someone grabs your shoulder.
“My office. Immediately,” says a commanding voice. You turn around, and it’s the principal. Carrie slips away, unnoticed. You follow him into the administrator’s office and see the weird girl, Grace, walk out. Ugh. You get to the principal’s office and you sit in the chair.
“What do you think you were doing out there?” she demands.
“They were being weird and making people uncomfortable, so I gave them a piece of my mind,” you explain.
“No they weren’t; they were making <em>you</em> uncomfortable. What exactly were they doing that made <em>you</em> so uncomfortable?” she asks sternly.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/CCfzFhS.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“They were holding hands! It’s disgusting! It’s just like in the book we’re reading in English. Men should be <em>men</em>, not do whatever they were just doing. It’s disgusting and unnatural,” you say.
“You need to learn to respect others, no matter who they are. Your actions have been disgraceful. I’ll be calling your father; in the meantime, gather your things. You’ll be going home today, and you can stay home for the rest of the week for that matter. You’ll learn,” she says as she scribbles on a piece of paper.
You wait, and she gives you a paper titled “Incident Report Form” with writing all over it. She leaves the room and you can hear her talking on the phone with someone. She comes back in and lectures you again on respect, then tells you to wait. After fifteen minutes, she informs you that your father has arrived and that you are to go home for the day.
You think your dad might be right about all this.
[[Next... ]]You think about what your dad would do; he would join Carrie and berate them. However, it seems more and more likely that not everything your dad does is correct.
You tap Carrie on the shoulder. She turns around and stops walking. “Hey, Carrie, lay off of them,” you say, sincerely. “They’re not hurting anybody.”
“What do you mean? They’re being gross,” she urges. The two boys overhear this, and stop walking. Still holding hands, the taller one consoles the shorter one who starts to cry.
“Look at those two over there,” you say as you point over to a couple walking together. “They’re holding hands, and you’re not saying anything to them.”
“But, but they’re not… that’s a boy and a girl. And over there, that’s two boys, and that’s not right!” she stammers.
“Carrie, you can’t treat people like that. They’re not hurting anyone,” you assure her.
“I… I guess you’re right. I still don’t like it, but they’re not hurting anybody,” she sighs. Carrie looks over at the two boys and notices one of them consoling the other. “Oh God, did I do that? I’m sorry Alex. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay, Carrie. Let’s go talk to them,” you reassure her. You both walk over to the boys and Carrie starts to apologize.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make him cry. I just don’t really… I don’t know, I don’t approve-” Carrie stammers, but the taller boy interrupts her.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Yjzz1MF.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“It’s fine, it’s just my friend,” the taller boy explains. “He’s been a wreck all day, I’m gonna take him to the nurse’s office. He couldn’t concentrate during our first hour after he lost his-”
“Wait, so you’re not together?” Carrie interrupts.
“Together? God no, we’re just friends. He’s just a little more sensitive and he’s having a rough day.” He stops talking momentarily to console his friend.
“Did you say he lost something?” you ask.
“Yes, yes, he lost his necklace,” the boy says. The shorter boy whispers something to the taller boy, and the taller boy corrects himself. “His <em>pendant</em>, sorry about that. He lost his pendant on the bus this morning; his mom gave it to him before she passed away.” The shorter boy starts to sob again, and the other one comforts him.
You think back to the bus ride this morning, back to what John and his friends were talking about. You reach into your backpack and pull out the pendant John gave you.
“It’s not this one, is it?” you ask as you show the pendant to the boys. The shorter boy peers his head up and you see his face immediately glow. He takes the pendant and thanks you repeatedly.
“This means the world to me. Thank you so much,” he says, tears in his eyes. You even see Carrie start to smile.
“What’s your name?” he asks you.
“Alex Owens,” you say.
“I won’t forget this, Alex Owens.” He and his friend turn away and head towards the nurse’s office.
You feel fulfilled.
[[Continue]]You don’t want to make Carrie any more upset than she already is. You leave her alone.
She yells at the boys again, and you notice that the shorter one starts crying. His face is even more red now. The taller of the two rushes him away and you see them enter the nurse’s office.
Carrie sees this and ignores them. You catch up to her.
“Hey, Carrie, how’s it going? How far have you gotten in the book for English?” you ask.
“The book for English? You wanna talk about the book for English?! I just saw two boys walking together and holding hands! How disgusting! It’s like I told you about the book, men should be men. They weren’t acting how men act,” she says.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/CCfzFhS.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Oh, no, I just meant…” you stammer.
“Let me tell you!” Carrie continues to go on about the two boys. You hear the door to the nurse’s office shut.
You listen while Carrie spouts off, insulting the boys and the book. You feel distressed, as if you made a wrong decision.
[[Continue...]]You walk with Carrie to English class. She’s in a noticeably better mood.
You continue through your day, going from class to class for what feels like an eternity. Once the bell rings at 3pm, you and your friends meet at the bus stop near the school start to head home.
You see John on the bus. <em>He looks lonely</em>, you think to yourself. You walk over and ask him if he’d like to sit with you and your friends. He does. You introduce him to your group of friends, and they get along together beautifully.
You’re happy.
Finally, the bus arrives at your stop. You and your friends get off and say your goodbyes, then you head home.
A short walk later, you’ve arrived. You walk up your front steps and you can hear the TV blaring through the walls. Suddenly, your happiness fades away. You walk up to the door, unlock it, and brace yourself for what’s about to come.
[[Continue ]]You walk outside and see your dad’s car parked on the curb. You’re mortified; what’s he going to think of you now? You’ve never been sent home from school before, <em>especially</em> for something as bad as this. Deep breaths, you think to yourself. <em>Deep brea-</em>
“Alex!” you hear your dad bellow from the car window. <em>Oh God</em>, you think to yourself.<em> I’m screwed.</em>
“H-hey dad,” you murmur as your approach the car. You open the door and put your backpack in the backseat.
“We need to have a talk,” he says, sternly. You shudder and close the door, then enter the passenger seat.
“Alex, the school gave me a call today. They told me what you did...” he continues. His face is like stone; you can’t read his emotions.
<em>Oh God, here it comes</em>, you think to yourself.
“... and I couldn’t be prouder!” he exclaims.
“Huh?” you say, audibly.
“I’m so proud of my kiddo! You’re following in my footsteps! You told off those boys just like I taught you!” he says with a grin on his face. He reaches over the seat and gives you a hug. You don’t know how to react, so you just sit there.
“No hug back? I get it, it’s been a long day. Let’s go home.” Your dad puts the car into drive and you head back home.
In the car, your dad goes on and on about how proud he is of you for “standing your ground” and “sticking to your guns.” He laments your English teacher and the book. You nod every now and then, slightly uncomfortable at his enthusiasm.
[[Continue... ]] You think about what your dad would do; he would join Carrie and berate them. However, it seems more and more likely that not everything your dad does is correct.
You tap Carrie on the shoulder. She turns around and stops walking. “Hey, Carrie, lay off of them,” you say, sincerely. “They’re not hurting anybody.”
“What do you mean? They’re being gross,” she urges. The two boys overhear this, and stop walking. Still holding hands, the taller one consoles the shorter one who starts to cry.
“Look at those two over there,” you say as you point over to a couple walking together. “They’re holding hands, and you’re not saying anything to them.”
“But, but they’re not… that’s a boy and a girl. And over there, that’s two boys, and that’s not right!” she stammers.
“Carrie, you can’t treat people like that. They’re not hurting anyone,” you assure her.
“I… I guess you’re right. I still don’t like it, but they’re not hurting anybody,” she sighs. Carrie looks over at the two boys and notices one of them consoling the other. “Oh God, did I do that? I’m sorry Alex. I didn’t… I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay, Carrie. Let’s go talk to them,” you reassure her. You both walk over to the boys and Carrie starts to apologize.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make him cry. I just don’t really… I don’t know, I don’t approve-” Carrie stammers, but the taller boy interrupts her.
“It’s fine, it’s just my friend,” the taller boy explains. “He’s been a wreck all day, I’m gonna take him to the nurse’s office. He couldn’t concentrate during our first hour after he lost his-”
“Wait, so you’re not together?” Carrie interrupts.
“Together? God no, we’re just friends. He’s just a little more sensitive and he’s having a rough day.” He stops talking momentarily to console his friend.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Yjzz1MF.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Did you say he lost something?” you ask.
“Yes, yes, he lost his necklace,” the boy says. The shorter boy whispers something to the taller boy, and the taller boy corrects himself. “His <em>pendant</em>, sorry about that. He lost his pendant on the bus this morning; his mom gave it to him before she passed away.” The shorter boy starts to sob again, and the other one comforts him.
You think back to the bus this morning; you left so quickly, you didn’t get a chance to see anything. You don’t remember seeing a pendant.
“I haven’t seen any kind of pendant, but I’ll keep an eye out,” you reassure them. The shorter boy is still crying, but he seems to calm down a little bit. “I’m sorry. I’ll let you know if I find anything,” you say. You exchange phone numbers with the taller boy, and say goodbye as they continue on.
You feel regretful.<em> What if I had just stayed on the bus, you think to yourself</em>. You shake it off, and Carrie smiles at you. She feels much better now.
The past is the past, nothing I can do now, you think to yourself. You feel like you made the right decision in stopping Carrie, and you’re happy.
[[ Next ]]You walk with Carrie to English class. She’s in a noticeably better mood. You feel better about yourself.
You continue through your day, going from class to class for what feels like an eternity. Once the bell rings at 3pm, you and your friends meet at the bus stop near the school start to head home.
You get on the bus and see one of the black men from earlier. You nearly get off again, but your friends stop you.
“Why are you acting so weird today, Alex?” one says.
“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, sullen.
Finally, the bus arrives at your stop. You and your friends get off and say your goodbyes, then you head home.
A short walk later, you’ve arrived. You walk up your front steps and you can hear the TV blaring through the walls. Suddenly, any happiness you had fades away. You walk up to the door, unlock it, and brace yourself for what’s about to come.
[[open the door ]]You walk outside and see your dad’s car parked on the curb. You’re mortified; what’s he going to think of you now? You’ve never been sent home from school before, especially for something as bad as this. <em>Deep breaths</em>, you think to yourself. <em>Deep brea-</em>
“Alex!” you hear your dad bellow from the car window. <em>Oh God</em>, you think to yourself. <em>I’m screwed.</em>
“H-hey dad,” you murmur as your approach the car. You open the door and put your backpack in the backseat.
“We need to have a talk,” he says, sternly. You shudder and close the door, then enter the passenger seat.
“Alex, the school gave me a call today. They told me what you did...” he continues. His face is like stone; you can’t read his emotions.
<em>Oh God, here it comes,</em> you think to yourself.
“... and I couldn’t be prouder!” he exclaims.
“Huh?” you say, audibly.
“I’m so proud of my kiddo! You’re following in my footsteps! You told off those boys just like I taught you!” he says with a grin on his face. He reaches over the seat and gives you a hug. You don’t know how to react, so you just sit there.
“No hug back? I get it, it’s been a long day. Let’s go home.” Your dad puts the car into drive and you head back home.
In the car, your dad goes on and on about how proud he is of you for “standing your ground” and “sticking to your guns.” He laments your English teacher and the book. You smile; you don’t know why you doubted your dad in the first place.
[[next ]]You walk with Carrie to English class. She’s in a noticeably better mood; you feel better about yourself.
You continue through your day, going from class to class for what feels like an eternity. Once the bell rings at 3pm, you and your friends meet at the bus stop near the school start to head home.
You get on the bus and see one of the black men from earlier. You nearly get off again, but your friends stop you.
“Why are you acting so weird today, Alex?” one says.
“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, sullen.
Finally, the bus arrives at your stop. You and your friends get off and say your goodbyes, then you head home.
A short walk later, you’ve arrived. You walk up your front steps and you can hear the TV blaring through the walls. Suddenly, any happiness you had fades away. You walk up to the door, unlock it, and brace yourself for what’s about to come.
[[continue]]You walk with Carrie to English class as she complains about the book.
You continue through your day, going from class to class for what feels like an eternity. Once the bell rings at 3pm, you and your friends meet at the bus stop near the school start to head home.
You see John on the bus. <em>He looks lonely</em>, you think to yourself. You walk over and ask him if he’d like to sit with you and your friends. He does. You introduce him to your group of friends, and they get along together pretty well.
You’re happy.
Finally, the bus arrives at your stop. You and your friends get off and say your goodbyes, then you head home.
A short walk later, you’ve arrived. You walk up your front steps and you can hear the TV blaring through the walls. Suddenly, your happiness fades away. You walk up to the door, unlock it, and brace yourself for what’s about to come.
[[continue ]]You open the door.
You see your dad sitting in the chair, Fox News flashing on the TV. <em>I don’t know what else I expected,</em> you think to yourself. You say hi to him, but he’s too engrossed in the TV to notice; you sigh, disappointed, yet not surprised.
You put your backpack on the chair in the kitchen. A loud noise startles you, but you realize it’s just your dad yelling at the TV. He seem upset.
Curious, you walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. He’s in his plush recliner - like always. He’s upset about something; you can’t tell what.
“What’re you watching, Dad?” you ask him.
“The stupid senator’s trying to pass another welfare bill. Doesn’t he understand where that money comes from?! Our pockets, Alex! It’s ridiculous. I…” he trails off, infatuated by a new story on the television. You’re annoyed by his comments, finally seeing him in a true light.
You listen to the TV. The anchor is covering a bombing on a local mosque a few nights ago; you remember hearing about it in school. The anchor sounds sincere in their coverage, telling only the facts and sending sympathy to the victims. You see your dad become visibly annoyed.
“What the hell? That’s garbage. You know, Alex, they deserve it,” he says. You turn to look at him, but he’s still focusing on the TV.
“What do you mean, Dad?” you ask.
“Haven’t you seen the stories, Alex? They deserve it. They bomb our troops in the Middle East and then they try and come here and convert our communities and impose their own religion on us - Sharia Law is real, Alex. You see their women, covered head to toe. They’re changing our way of life. They need to get out,” he rants passionately.
Your jaw drops slightly. You’re not sure how to react, but you feel like you should say something. <em>But if I do something, he’ll flip out on me.</em> Plus, he’s still my dad. He deserves respect, no matter what he thinks. I should just leave him be.
[[Disagree with him]]
[[Ignore him]] Eventually, you make it home. You walk inside; your dad heads straight for his chair and turns on the TV while you put your backpack on the kitchen table. You zone out for a few seconds, thinking about your day so far.
A loud noise startles you, but you realize it’s just your dad yelling at the TV. He seem upset. Curious, you walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. He’s upset about something now, but you can’t tell what.
“What’re you watching, Dad?” you ask him.
“The stupid senator’s trying to pass another welfare bill. Doesn’t he understand where that money comes from?! Our pockets, Alex! It’s ridiculous. I…” he trails off, infatuated by a new story on the television. You nod in agreement.
You listen to the TV. The anchor is covering a bombing on a local mosque a few nights ago; you remember hearing about it in school. The anchor sounds sincere in their coverage, telling only the facts and sending sympathy to the victims. You see your dad become visibly annoyed.
“What the hell? That’s garbage. You know, Alex, they deserve it,” he says. You turn to look at him, but he’s still focusing on the TV.
“What do you mean, Dad?” you ask.
“Haven’t you seen the stories, Alex? They deserve it. They bomb our troops in the Middle East and then they try and come here and convert our communities and impose their own religion on us - Sharia Law is real, Alex. You see their women, covered head to toe. They’re changing our way of life. They need to get out,” he rants passionately.
You’ve seen him get like this before. It’s best to just ignore him in times like this; that’s what you usually do. However, this time, you feel a little fired up by his rants. You’re not sure how you feel about that.
[[Ignore him ]]
[[Agree with him]]You don’t want to make Carrie any more upset than she already is. You leave her alone.
She yells at the boys again, and you notice that the shorter one starts crying. His face is even more red now. The taller of the two rushes him away quickly and you see them enter the nurse’s office.
Carrie sees this and ignores them. You catch up to her.
“Hey, Carrie, how’s it going? How far have you gotten in the book for English?” you ask.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/CCfzFhS.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“The book for English? You wanna talk about the book for English?! I just saw two boys walking together and holding hands! How disgusting! It’s like I told you about the book, men should be men. They weren’t acting how men act,” she says.
“I didn’t like it either,” you admit.
“Let me tell you!” Carrie continues to go on about the two boys. You hear the door to the nurse’s office shut.
You listen while Carrie spouts off, insulting the boys and the book. You think you might agree with Carrie about some of it.
You feel like you should have said something to the boys.
[[next ]]You walk with Carrie to English class as she complains about the book.
You continue through your day, going from class to class for what feels like an eternity. Once the bell rings at 3pm, you and your friends meet at the bus stop near the school start to head home.
You get on the bus and see one of the black men from earlier. You nearly get off again, but your friends stop you.
“Why are you acting so weird today, Alex?” one says.
“Don’t worry about it,” you reply, sullen.
Finally, the bus arrives at your stop. You and your friends get off and say your goodbyes, then you head home.
A short walk later, you’ve arrived. You walk up your front steps and you can hear the TV blaring through the walls. Suddenly, any happiness you had fades away. You walk up to the door, unlock it, and brace yourself for what’s about to come.
[[continue ]]You walk with Carrie to English class. She’s in a noticeably better mood.
You continue through your day, going from class to class for what feels like an eternity. Once the bell rings at 3pm, you and your friends meet at the bus stop near the school and start to head home.
You see John on the bus. <em>He looks lonely</em>, you think to yourself. You walk over and ask him if he’d like to sit with you and your friends. He does. You introduce him to your group of friends, and they get along together beautifully.
You’re happy.
Finally, the bus arrives at your stop. You and your friends get off and say your goodbyes, then you head home.
A short walk later, you’ve arrived. You walk up your front steps and you can hear the TV blaring through the walls. Suddenly, your happiness fades away. You walk up to the door, unlock it, and brace yourself for what’s about to come.
[[continue ]]You open the door.
You see your dad sitting in the chair, Fox News flashing on the TV. <em>I don’t know what else I expected</em>, you think to yourself. You say hi to him, but he’s too engrossed in the TV to notice; you sigh, disappointed, yet not surprised.
You put your backpack on the chair in the kitchen. A loud noise startles you, but you realize it’s just your dad yelling at the TV. He seem upset.
Curious, you walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. He’s in his plush recliner - like always. He’s upset about something; you can’t tell what.
“What’re you watching, Dad?” you ask him.
“The stupid senator’s trying to pass another welfare bill. Doesn’t he understand where that money comes from?! Our pockets, Alex! It’s ridiculous. I…” he trails off, infatuated by a new story on the television. You’re slightly bothered by his comments, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary.
You listen to the TV. The anchor is covering a bombing on a local mosque a few nights ago; you remember hearing about it in school. The anchor sounds sincere in their coverage, telling only the facts and sending sympathy to the victims. You see your dad become visibly annoyed.
“What the hell? That’s garbage. You know, Alex, they deserve it,” he says. You turn to look at him, but he’s still focusing on the TV.
“What do you mean, Dad?” you ask.
“Haven’t you seen the stories, Alex? They deserve it. They bomb our troops in the Middle East and then they try and come here and convert our communities and impose their own religion on us - Sharia Law is real, Alex. You see their women, covered head to toe. They’re changing our way of life. They need to get out,” he rants passionately.
You’ve seen him get like this before. It’s best to just ignore him in times like this; that’s what you usually do. However, this time, you feel a little fired up by his rants. You’re not sure how you feel about that.
[[ignore him ]]
[[Nod in agreement]]Eventually, you make it home. You walk inside; your dad heads straight for his chair and turns on the TV while you put your backpack on the kitchen table. You zone out for a few seconds, thinking about your day so far.
A loud noise startles you, but you realize it’s just your dad yelling at the TV. He seem upset. Curious, you walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. He’s upset about something now, but you can’t tell what.
“What’re you watching, Dad?” you ask him.
“The stupid senator’s trying to pass another welfare bill. Doesn’t he understand where that money comes from?! Our pockets, Alex! It’s ridiculous. I…” he trails off, infatuated by a new story on the television. You nod in agreement.
You listen to the TV. The anchor is covering a bombing on a local mosque a few nights ago; you remember hearing about it in school. The anchor sounds sincere in their coverage, telling only the facts and sending sympathy to the victims. You see your dad become visibly annoyed.
“What the hell? That’s garbage. You know, Alex, they deserve it,” he says. You turn to look at him, but he’s still focusing on the TV.
“What do you mean, Dad?” you ask.
“Haven’t you seen the stories, Alex? They deserve it. They bomb our troops in the Middle East and then they try and come here and convert our communities and impose their own religion on us - Sharia Law is real, Alex. You see their women, covered head to toe. They’re changing our way of life. They need to get out,” he rants passionately.
You feel yourself agreeing with him more and more with each word. However, a small voice in the back of your head tells you that you shouldn’t be. You’re conflicted. <em>He does have a point, though,</em> you think to yourself.
[[Stay silent]]
[[ Agree with him ]]You open the door.
You see your dad sitting in the chair, Fox News flashing on the TV. <em>I don’t know what else I expected,</em> you think to yourself. You say hi to him, but he’s too engrossed in the TV to notice; you sigh, disappointed, yet not surprised.
You put your backpack on the chair in the kitchen. A loud noise startles you, but you realize it’s just your dad yelling at the TV. He seem upset.
Curious, you walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. He’s in his plush recliner - like always. He’s upset about something; you can’t tell what.
“What’re you watching, Dad?” you ask him.
“The stupid senator’s trying to pass another welfare bill. Doesn’t he understand where that money comes from?! Our pockets, Alex! It’s ridiculous. I…” he trails off, infatuated by a new story on the television. You’re annoyed by his comments as you start to see him in a truer light.
You listen to the TV. The anchor is covering a bombing on a local mosque a few nights ago; you remember hearing about it in school. The anchor sounds sincere in their coverage, telling only the facts and sending sympathy to the victims. You see your dad become visibly annoyed.
“What the hell? That’s garbage. You know, Alex, they deserve it,” he says. You turn to look at him, but he’s still focusing on the TV.
“What do you mean, Dad?” you ask.
“Haven’t you seen the stories, Alex? They deserve it. They bomb our troops in the Middle East and then they try and come here and convert our communities and impose their own religion on us - Sharia Law is real, Alex. You see their women, covered head to toe. They’re changing our way of life. They need to get out,” he rants passionately.
Your jaw drops slightly. You’re not sure how to react, but you feel like you should say something. But if I do something, he’ll flip out on me. Plus, he’s still my dad. He deserves respect, no matter what he thinks. I should just leave him be.
[[Disagree with him ]]
[[Ignore him ]]You open the door.
You see your dad sitting in the chair, Fox News flashing on the TV. <em>I don’t know what else I expected</em>, you think to yourself. You say hi to him, but he’s too engrossed in the TV to notice; you sigh, disappointed, yet not surprised.
You put your backpack on the chair in the kitchen. A loud noise startles you, but you realize it’s just your dad yelling at the TV. He seem upset.
Curious, you walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. He’s in his plush recliner - like always. He’s upset about something; you can’t tell what.
“What’re you watching, Dad?” you ask him.
“The stupid senator’s trying to pass another welfare bill. Doesn’t he understand where that money comes from?! Our pockets, Alex! It’s ridiculous. I…” he trails off, infatuated by a new story on the television. You’re annoyed by his comments, finally seeing him in a true light.
You listen to the TV. The anchor is covering a bombing on a local mosque a few nights ago; you remember hearing about it in school. The anchor sounds sincere in their coverage, telling only the facts and sending sympathy to the victims. You see your dad become visibly annoyed.
“What the hell? That’s garbage. You know, Alex, they deserve it,” he says. You turn to look at him, but he’s still focusing on the TV.
“What do you mean, Dad?” you ask.
“Haven’t you seen the stories, Alex? They deserve it. They bomb our troops in the Middle East and then they try and come here and convert our communities and impose their own religion on us - Sharia Law is real, Alex. You see their women, covered head to toe. They’re changing our way of life. They need to get out,” he rants passionately.
Your jaw drops slightly. You’re not sure how to react, but you feel like you should say something. But if I do something, he’ll flip out on me. Plus, he’s still my dad. He deserves respect, no matter what he thinks. I should just leave him be.
[[Disagree with him.]]
[[Ignore him ]]His words hurt you a little bit, but still just enough to say something. They’re not directed at you, but you start to realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad.
You make it up to your room.
[[next ]]You decide to ignore him. It’s the best thing to do, especially when he’s being like this. He doesn’t even notice you ignoring him; he just rants on.
“You know what? I’m glad their mosque got bombed. Maybe it’ll send them a message; they’re not welcome here,” he says. <em>He’s just trying to make me upset now, you think to yourself.</em> “After 9/11 happened, it’s time they got a taste of their own medicine. They had it coming,” he sneers.
<em>He’s still my dad, and he deserves respect,</em> you think to yourself. If you stay quiet, he won’t get upset with you.
[[Say something ]]
[[ Ignore Him]]You decide to ignore him. It’s the best thing to do, especially when he’s being like this. He doesn’t even notice you ignoring him; he just rants on.
“You know what? I’m glad their mosque got bombed. Maybe it’ll send them a message; they’re not welcome here,” he says. “After 9/11 happened, it’s time they got a taste of their own medicine. They had it coming,” he sneers.
<em>He might have a point, but this seems a bit extreme,</em> you think to yourself. If I say something to him, he’ll freak out, though.
You aren’t sure what to do.
[[ Say something ]]
[[ Say nothing ]]“You’re right, Dad,” you say.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“I knew you’d come around eventually! I had a feeling you’ve been behind me all these years, and this is the proof! I love you, kiddo!” He gets up and embraces you, but it’s short lived - he looks at the TV and begins to rant again.
“You know what? I’m glad their mosque got bombed. Maybe it’ll send them a message; they’re not welcome here,” he says. “After 9/11 happened, it’s time they got a taste of their own medicine. They had it coming,” he sneers.
<em>He’s glad their mosque got bombed? That might be a little too far</em>, you think to yourself. You aren’t sure, however. He’s got a few good points, and if I said anything to him, he’d freak out, you think.
[[Disagree with him ]]
[[Shrug it off ]]You open the door.
You see your dad sitting in the chair, Fox News flashing on the TV. <em>I don’t know what else I expected,</em> you think to yourself. You say hi to him, but he’s too engrossed in the TV to notice; you sigh, disappointed, yet not surprised.
You put your backpack on the chair in the kitchen. A loud noise startles you, but you realize it’s just your dad yelling at the TV. He seem upset.
Curious, you walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. He’s in his plush recliner - like always. He’s upset about something; you can’t tell what.
“What’re you watching, Dad?” you ask him.
“The stupid senator’s trying to pass another welfare bill. Doesn’t he understand where that money comes from?! Our pockets, Alex! It’s ridiculous. I…” he trails off, infatuated by a new story on the television. You’re slightly bothered by his comments, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary.
You listen to the TV. The anchor is covering a bombing on a local mosque a few nights ago; you remember hearing about it in school. The anchor sounds sincere in their coverage, telling only the facts and sending sympathy to the victims. You see your dad become visibly annoyed.
“What the hell? That’s garbage. You know, Alex, they deserve it,” he says. You turn to look at him, but he’s still focusing on the TV.
“What do you mean, Dad?” you ask.
“Haven’t you seen the stories, Alex? They deserve it. They bomb our troops in the Middle East and then they try and come here and convert our communities and impose their own religion on us - Sharia Law is real, Alex. You see their women, covered head to toe. They’re changing our way of life. They need to get out,” he rants passionately.
<em>Nothing’s changed,</em> you think to yourself. You’re not sure how to react; it bothers you slightly, but you don’t feel too changed by his statements. <em>I shouldn’t say anything; he’ll flip out on me.</em> Plus, he’s still my dad. He deserves respect, no matter what he thinks. I should just leave him be.
[[ Disagree with him]]
[[ Ignore him]]You open the door.
You see your dad sitting in the chair, Fox News flashing on the TV. <em>I don’t know what else I expected</em>, you think to yourself. You say hi to him, but he’s too engrossed in the TV to notice; you sigh, disappointed, yet not surprised.
You put your backpack on the chair in the kitchen. A loud noise startles you, but you realize it’s just your dad yelling at the TV. He seem upset.
Curious, you walk into the living room and sit down on the couch. He’s in his plush recliner - like always. He’s upset about something; you can’t tell what.
“What’re you watching, Dad?” you ask him.
“The stupid senator’s trying to pass another welfare bill. Doesn’t he understand where that money comes from?! Our pockets, Alex! It’s ridiculous. I…” he trails off, infatuated by a new story on the television. You’re slightly bothered by his comments, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary.
You listen to the TV. The anchor is covering a bombing on a local mosque a few nights ago; you remember hearing about it in school. The anchor sounds sincere in their coverage, telling only the facts and sending sympathy to the victims. You see your dad become visibly annoyed.
“What the hell? That’s garbage. You know, Alex, they deserve it,” he says. You turn to look at him, but he’s still focusing on the TV.
“What do you mean, Dad?” you ask.
“Haven’t you seen the stories, Alex? They deserve it. They bomb our troops in the Middle East and then they try and come here and convert our communities and impose their own religion on us - Sharia Law is real, Alex. You see their women, covered head to toe. They’re changing our way of life. They need to get out,” he rants passionately.
Nothing’s changed, you think to yourself. You’re not sure how to react; it bothers you slightly, but you don’t feel too changed by his statements. I shouldn’t say anything; he’ll flip out on me. Plus, he’s still my dad. He deserves respect, no matter what he thinks. I should just leave him be.
[[ Disagree with him]]
[[ Say nothing]] You ignore him. He notices.
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” he demands.
“What? Yeah, sorry, I was zoning out,” you explain, feigning absentmindedness. He doesn’t seem to notice that you’re faking it.
“What’s your deal? Are you doing alright?” he asks. You detect a hint of actual sincerity in his voice.
It’s just a hint, though.
[["You’re kind of bothering me with what you’re saying.”]]
[[“I just had a bad day at school.”]] You nod in agreement. He notices.
“I knew you’d come around eventually, kiddo,” he says. “You know what? I’m glad their mosque got bombed. Maybe it’ll send them a message; they’re not welcome here. After 9/11 happened, it’s time they got a taste of their own medicine. They had it coming,” he sneers.
<em>He’s glad their mosque got bombed? That might be a little too far,</em> you think to yourself. You aren’t sure, however. He’s got a few good points, and if I said anything to him, he’d freak out, you think.
[[ Disagree with him ]]
[[Shrug it off ]]You ignore him. He notices.
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” he demands.
“What? Yeah, sorry, I was zoning out,” you explain, feigning absentmindedness. He seems to notice that you’re faking it.
“What’s your deal, Alex?” he asks. “Snap out of it.”
You felt like you could agree with him at first, but now he’s just being rude to you. You want to say something, but you’re not sure what to do. If you talk back, he’ll snap at you.
[[“You’re being really disrespectful right now.”]]
[[ “I just had a bad day at school.”]] “You’re right, Dad. I agree with you,” you say.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“I knew you’d come around eventually! I had a feeling you’ve been behind me all these years, and this is the proof! I love you, kiddo!” He gets up and embraces you, but it’s short lived - he looks at the TV and begins to rant again.
“You know what? I’m glad their mosque got bombed. Maybe it’ll send them a message; they’re not welcome here,” he says. “After 9/11 happened, it’s time they got a taste of their own medicine. They had it coming,” he sneers.
<em>He’s got a few good points</em>, you think to yourself. <em>And if I said anything to him, he’d freak out,</em> you think. But I don’t know; being glad those people died? Isn’t that too far?
[[Tell him he’s being disrespectful]]
[[ Agree with him ]]
His words hurt you. They’re not directed at you, but you realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad; you even feel stronger because of it.
You make it up to your room.
[[ Next]] You decide to ignore him. It’s the best thing to do, especially when he’s being like this. He doesn’t even notice you ignoring him; he just rants on.
“You know what? I’m glad their mosque got bombed. Maybe it’ll send them a message; they’re not welcome here,” he says. He’s just trying to make me upset now, you think to yourself. “After 9/11 happened, it’s time they got a taste of their own medicine. They had it coming,” he sneers.
<em>He’s still my dad, and he deserves respect,</em> you think to yourself. But his words hurt, even though they’re not aimed at you. You want to say something to him, but you’re afraid of how he’ll react. If you stay quiet, he won’t get upset with you.
You don’t know what to do.
[[Say something]]
[[Shrug it off]] His words hurt you. They’re not directed at you, but you realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad; you even feel stronger because of it.
You make it up to your room.
[[ next]] You decide to ignore him. It’s the best thing to do, especially when he’s being like this. He doesn’t even notice you ignoring him; he just rants on.
“You know what? I’m glad their mosque got bombed. Maybe it’ll send them a message; they’re not welcome here,” he says. He’s just trying to make me upset now, you think to yourself. “After 9/11 happened, it’s time they got a taste of their own medicine. They had it coming,” he sneers.
He’s still my dad, and he deserves respect, you think to yourself. But his words hurt, even though they’re not aimed at you. You want to say something to him, but you’re afraid of how he’ll react. If you stay quiet, he won’t get upset with you.
You don’t know what to do.
[[ Say something]]
[[ Shrug it off]]
You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
<em>Wouldn’t want to make him any more upset than he already is,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that just happened. You glance at the family photo on your wall; your eyes lock onto your mother. A single tear rolls down the side of your face. <em>Mom…</em>
Before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you out of it. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<em>New message from Carrie,</em> your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
“Hey, how’s it going Alex? I wanted to talk to you about earlier today,” it reads. “I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate how you reacted in the hallway with those two boys; you taught me an important lesson, and I’m really grateful for you :)”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[ “Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)”]]
[[“Did I really help you that much?” ]] His words are hurtful; they bother you just enough to say something. They’re not directed at you, but you start to realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad.
You make it up to your room.
[[next ]] You shrug it off. <em>Just ignore it and he’ll stop eventually,</em> you think to yourself. <em>This is how he always is.</em>
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
The news program continues to talk about the mosque bombing. They give statistics; fifteen dead, seventeen injured, six in critical condition, four…
“Why doesn’t ‘their god’ save them now?” your dad interrupts, making air quotes when he says “their god.” You cringe and shrink into the couch at his words, more aware than ever before of how hurtful he’s being.
The news program finishes talking about statistics, and moves on to the bomber; twenty-six years old, “OTH discharged” from basic training a few years ago, and hasn’t been seen by his family in months, reads the TV screen. <em>Figures,</em> you think to yourself. <em>Couldn’t get more classic than th-</em>
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” you hear your dad ask. You snap out of it and look at him, confusion on your face. “No, I didn’t, Dad,” you say timidly.
“I said, how do you feel about him? This guy,” he asks as he points at the television screen. “How does he make you feel?”
You’re taken aback at the bluntness of his question. “I don’t really know, Dad; I mean, he murde-”
“You <em>don’t really know?!</em> Damn, Alex, get a spine already! Tell me how you really feel about him,” he yells. He’s never gotten like this before; you’re starting to get worried.
Nervously, you say, “Well... I guess he w-”
“‘I guess’? Alex, stick up for yourself!” he demands. He pauses for a moment, then leans closer to you.
“You know how <em>I</em> feel about him, Alex?” he says in a hushed tone. “I think he was right! He acted out on what all of us feel on the inside, Alex.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a wicked smile, and you start to feel very, very uncomfortable. “He did what all of us are too afraid to do: he sent them a message. Now, they know how we feel about them being here; they know they need to LEAVE!” He yells, and it startles you. You feel overwhelmed, and you don’t know what to do. He’s never acted like this. If you disagree, who knows how he’ll react?
[[ Excuse yourself to your room ]]
[[ Agree with him ]]
His words are hurtful; they bother you just enough to say something. They’re not directed at you, but you start to realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad.
You make it up to your room.
[[next ]] You shrug it off. <em>Just ignore it and he’ll stop eventually,</em> you think to yourself. <em>This is how he always is.</em>
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
The news program continues to talk about the mosque bombing. They give statistics; fifteen dead, seventeen injured, six in critical condition, four…
“Why doesn’t ‘their god’ save them now?” your dad interrupts, making air quotes when he says “their god.” You cringe at his words, aware of how rude they are.
The news program finishes talking about statistics, and moves on to the bomber; twenty-six years old, “OTH discharged” from basic training a few years ago, and hasn’t been seen by his family in months, reads the TV screen. <em>Figures,</em> you think to yourself. <em>Couldn’t get more classic than th-</em>
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” you hear your dad ask. You snap out of it and look at him, confusion on your face. “No, I didn’t, Dad,” you say, uncomfortable.
“I said, how do you feel about him? This guy,” he asks as he points at the television screen. “How does he make you feel?”
You’re taken aback at the bluntness of his question. “I don’t really know, Dad; I mean, he murde-”
“You don’t really know?! Damn, Alex, get a spine already! Tell me how you really feel about him,” he yells. He’s never gotten like this before; you’re starting to get worried.
Nervously, you say, “Well... I guess he w-”
“‘I guess’? Alex, stick up for yourself!” he demands. He pauses for a moment, then leans closer to you.
“You know how <em>I</em> feel about him, Alex?” he says in a hushed tone. “I think he was right! He acted out on what all of us feel on the inside, Alex.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a wicked smile, and you start to feel uncomfortable. “He did what all of us are too afraid to do: he sent them a message. Now, they know how we feel about them being here; they know they <em>need</em> to LEAVE!” He yells, and it startles you. You feel overwhelmed, and you don’t know what to do. He’s never acted like this. If you disagree, who knows how he’ll react?
[[Go up to your room]]
[[Agree with him ]]
His words are hurtful; they bother you just enough to say something. They’re not directed at you, but you start to realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad.
You make it up to your room.
[[Next... ]]You shrug it off. <em>Just ignore it and he’ll stop eventually</em>, you think to yourself. <em>This is how he always is.</em>
The news program continues to talk about the mosque bombing. They give statistics; fifteen dead, seventeen injured, six in critical condition, four…
“Why doesn’t ‘their god’ save them now?” your dad interrupts, making air quotes when he says “their god.” You cringe slightly.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
The news program finishes talking about statistics, and moves on to the bomber; twenty-six years old, “OTH discharged” from basic training a few years ago, and hasn’t been seen by his family in months, reads the TV screen. Figures, you think to yourself. Couldn’t get more classic than th-
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” you hear your dad ask. You snap out of it and look at him, confusion on your face. “No, I didn’t, Dad,” you say quietly.
“I said, how do you feel about him? This guy,” he asks as he points at the television screen. “How does he make you feel?”
You’re taken aback at the bluntness of his question. “I don’t really know, Dad; I mean, he murde-”
“You <em>don’t really know?!</em> Damn, Alex, get a spine already! Tell me how you really feel about him,” he yells. He’s never gotten like this before; you’re starting to get worried.
Nervously, you say, “Well... I guess he w-”
“‘I guess’? Alex, stick up for yourself!” he demands. He pauses for a moment, then leans closer to you.
“You know how <em>I</em> feel about him, Alex?” he says in a hushed tone. “I think he was right! He acted out on what all of us feel on the inside, Alex.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a wicked smile, and you start to feel very, very uncomfortable. “He did what all of us are too afraid to do: he sent them a message. Now, they know how we feel about them being here; they know they <em>need</em> to LEAVE!” He yells, and it startles you. You nod your head slightly, if only to get him to leave you alone.
He turns back at the TV and keeps on ranting. You start to realize how exhausted you are from the day, physically, mentally, and socially. This couch is so comfortable, you think to yourself. I should…
Your mind trails off, and you fall asleep.
After some time, you wake up. You look around and your dad is nowhere to be seen; however, the TV is still on. Sluggishly, you get up and walk upstairs to your room.
[[ Next... ]] His words hurt you. They’re not directed at you, but you realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad; you even feel stronger because of it.
You make it up to your room.
[[ next ]] You decide to ignore him. It’s the best thing to do, especially when he’s being like this. He doesn’t even notice you ignoring him; he just rants on.
“You know what? I’m glad their mosque got bombed. Maybe it’ll send them a message; they’re not welcome here,” he says. He’s just trying to make me upset now, you think to yourself. “After 9/11 happened, it’s time they got a taste of their own medicine. They had it coming,” he sneers.
<em>He’s still my dad, and he deserves respect</em>, you think to yourself. But his words hurt, even though they’re not aimed at you. You want to say something to him, but you’re afraid of how he’ll react. If you stay quiet, he won’t get upset with you.
You don’t know what to do.
[[ Say something ]]
[[ Shrug it off]] His words are hurtful; they bother you just enough to say something. They’re not directed at you, but you start to realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad.
You make it up to your room.
[[ next ]] You decide to ignore him. It’s the best thing to do, especially when he’s being like this. He doesn’t even notice you ignoring him; he just rants on.
“You know what? I’m glad their mosque got bombed. Maybe it’ll send them a message; they’re not welcome here,” he says. “After 9/11 happened, it’s time they got a taste of their own medicine. They had it coming,” he sneers.
He might have a point, but this seems a bit extreme, you think to yourself. If I say something to him, he’ll freak out, though.
You aren’t sure what to do.
[[Say Something]]
[[ Shrug it off ]]
You rake up enough courage and tell him how you really feel.
“You’re kind of bothering me with what you’re saying, Dad,” you say cautiously. You look over at him and see his head turn slowly towards you. You’ve never really opposed him, except for one time…
He stares daggers at you. “What did you just say to me, Alex?” he asks sternly.
“I said, you’re kind of bothering me with what you’re saying. They’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad.
You make it up to your room.
[[Next ]] “I just had a bad day at school is all,” you say.
You look over at him, but he’s no longer looking at you; his attention is back on the TV. You feel somewhat hurt that he ignores you. He continues to rant.
“You know what? I’m glad their mosque got bombed. Maybe it’ll send them a message; they’re not welcome here,” he says. “After 9/11 happened, it’s time they got a taste of their own medicine. They had it coming,” he sneers. He looks at you, waiting for a response.
<em>He might have a point, but this seems a bit extreme,</em> you think to yourself. <em>I can’t disagree with him, or else he’ll flip out on me.</em>
You aren’t sure how to react.
[[ Get up and leave to your room ]]
[[Agree with him ]]
His words are hurtful; they bother you just enough to say something. They’re not directed at you, but you start to realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad.
You make it up to your room.
[[Next ]] You shrug it off. <em>Just ignore it and he’ll stop eventually,</em> you think to yourself. <em>This is how he always is.</em>
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
The news program continues to talk about the mosque bombing. They give statistics; fifteen dead, seventeen injured, six in critical condition, four…
“Why doesn’t ‘their god’ save them now?” your dad interrupts, making air quotes when he says “their god.” You cringe slightly.
The news program finishes talking about statistics, and moves on to the bomber; twenty-six years old, “OTH discharged” from basic training a few years ago, and hasn’t been seen by his family in months, reads the TV screen. <em>Figures,</em> you think to yourself. <em>Couldn’t get more classic than th-</em>
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” you hear your dad ask. You snap out of it and look at him, confusion on your face. “No, I didn’t, Dad,” you say quietly.
“I said, how do you feel about him? This guy,” he asks as he points at the television screen. “How does he make you feel?”
You’re taken aback at the bluntness of his question. “I don’t really know, Dad; I mean, he murde-”
“You don’t really know?! Damn, Alex, get a spine already! Tell me how you really feel about him,” he yells. He’s never gotten like this before; you’re starting to get worried.
Nervously, you say, “Well... I guess he w-”
“‘I guess’? Alex, stick up for yourself!” he demands. He pauses for a moment, then leans closer to you.
“You know how <em>I</em> feel about him, Alex?” he says in a hushed tone. “I think he was right! He acted out on what all of us feel on the inside, Alex.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a wicked smile, and you start to feel very, very uncomfortable. “He did what all of us are too afraid to do: he sent them a <em>message</em>. Now, they know how we feel about them being here; they know they <em>need</em> to LEAVE!” He yells, and it startles you. You nod your head slightly, if only to get him to leave you alone.
He turns back at the TV and keeps on ranting. You start to realize how exhausted you are from the day, physically, mentally, and socially. This couch is so comfortable, you think to yourself. I should…
Your mind trails off, and you fall asleep.
After some time, you wake up. You look around and your dad is nowhere to be seen; however, the TV is still on. Sluggishly, you get up and walk upstairs to your room.
[[ next]] You rake up enough courage and tell him how you really feel.
“You’re being really disrespectful right now, Dad,” you say cautiously. You look over at him and see his head turn slowly towards you. You’ve never really opposed him, except for one time…
He stares daggers at you. “What did you just say to me, Alex?” he asks sternly.
“I said, you’re being really disrespectful. They’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad.
You make it up to your room.
[[ Next]] “I just had a bad day at school is all,” you say.
You look over at him, but he’s no longer looking at you; his attention is back on the TV. You feel somewhat hurt that he ignores you. He continues to rant.
“You know what? I’m glad their mosque got bombed. Maybe it’ll send them a message; they’re not welcome here,” he says. “After 9/11 happened, it’s time they got a taste of their own medicine. They had it coming,” he sneers. He looks at you, waiting for a response.
<em>He might have a point, but this seems a bit extreme,</em> you think to yourself. <em>I can’t disagree with him, or else he’ll flip out on me.</em>
You aren’t sure how to react.
[[ Get up and leave to your room]]
[[ Agree with him ]]
You rake up enough courage to tell him how you really feel.
“You’re being really disrespectful right now, Dad,” you say cautiously. You look over at him and see his head turn slowly towards you. You’ve never really opposed him, except for one time…
He stares daggers at you. “What did you just say to me, Alex?” he asks sternly.
“I said, you’re being really disrespectful. They’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://mail.google.com/mail/u/0?ui=2&ik=a55d171214&attid=0.1&permmsgid=msg-f:1634913908943077275&th=16b06189bce5bf9b&view=att&disp=safe&realattid=f_jw9w6yk30" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
You feel a tear start to form in your eye, but you stop it. You can’t let him see you cry; not again. <em>I should apologize to him so he doesn’t freak out any more than he already has</em>, you think to yourself. <em>I should say I’m sorry. He still deserves respect.</em>
[[Get up and leave to your room]]
[[Apologize for disrespecting him]]
You shrug it off. <em>Just ignore it and he’ll stop eventually,</em> you think to yourself. <em>This is how he always is.</em>
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
The news program continues to talk about the mosque bombing. They give statistics; fifteen dead, seventeen injured, six in critical condition, four…
“Why doesn’t ‘their god’ save them now?” your dad interrupts, making air quotes when he says “their god.” You cringe slightly.
The news program finishes talking about statistics, and moves on to the bomber; twenty-six years old, “OTH discharged” from basic training a few years ago, and hasn’t been seen by his family in months, reads the TV screen. <em>Figures,</em> you think to yourself. <em>Couldn’t get more classic than th-</em>
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” you hear your dad ask. You snap out of it and look at him, confusion on your face. “No, I didn’t, Dad,” you say quietly.
“I said, how do you feel about him? This guy,” he asks as he points at the television screen. “How does he make you feel?”
You’re taken aback at the bluntness of his question. “I don’t really know, Dad; I mean, he murde-”
“You <em>don’t really know?!</em> Damn, Alex, get a spine already! Tell me how you really feel about him,” he yells. He’s never gotten like this before; you’re starting to get worried.
Nervously, you say, “Well... I guess he w-”
“‘I guess’? Alex, stick up for yourself!” he demands. He pauses for a moment, then leans closer to you.
“You know how <em>I</em> feel about him, Alex?” he says in a hushed tone. “I think he was right! He acted out on what all of us feel on the <em>inside</em>, Alex.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a wicked smile, and you start to feel very, very uncomfortable. “He did what all of us are too afraid to do: he sent them a <em>message</em>. Now, they know how we feel about them being here; they know they <em>need</em> to LEAVE!” He yells, and it startles you. You nod your head slightly, if only to get him to leave you alone.
He turns back at the TV and keeps on ranting. You start to realize how exhausted you are from the day, physically, mentally, and socially. This couch is so comfortable, you think to yourself. I should…
Your mind trails off, and you fall asleep.
After some time, you wake up. You look around and your dad is nowhere to be seen; however, the TV is still on. Sluggishly, you get up and walk upstairs to your room.
[[Next....]] You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to make him any more upset than he already is,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that just happened. You glance at the family photo on your wall; your eyes lock onto your mother. A single tear rolls down the side of your face. <em>Mom…</em>
Before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you out of it. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<em>New message from Carrie,</em> your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey, how’s it going Alex? I wanted to talk to you about earlier today,” it reads. “I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate how you reacted in the hallway with those two boys; you taught me an important lesson, and I’m really grateful for you :)”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)”]]
[[“Did I really help you that much?”]]
His words hurt you. They’re not directed at you, but you realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad; you even feel stronger because of it.
You make it up to your room.
[[ Next]] You shrug it off. <em>Just ignore it and he’ll stop eventually</em>, you think to yourself. <em>This is how he always is.</em>
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
The news program continues to talk about the mosque bombing. They give statistics; fifteen dead, seventeen injured, six in critical condition, four…
“Why doesn’t ‘their god’ save them now?” your dad interrupts, making air quotes when he says “their god.” You cringe and shrink into the couch at his words, more aware than ever before of how hurtful he’s being.
The news program finishes talking about statistics, and moves on to the bomber; twenty-six years old, “OTH discharged” from basic training a few years ago, and hasn’t been seen by his family in months, reads the TV screen. <em>Figures,</em> you think to yourself. <em>Couldn’t get more classic than th-</em>
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” you hear your dad ask. You snap out of it and look at him, confusion on your face. “No, I didn’t, Dad,” you say timidly.
“I said, how do you feel about him? This guy,” he asks as he points at the television screen. “How does he make you feel?”
You’re taken aback at the bluntness of his question. “I don’t really know, Dad; I mean, he murde-”
“You <em>don’t really know?!</em> Damn, Alex, get a spine already! Tell me how you really feel about him,” he yells. He’s never gotten like this before; you’re starting to get worried.
Nervously, you say, “Well... I guess he w-”
“‘I guess’? Alex, stick up for yourself!” he demands. He pauses for a moment, then leans closer to you.
“You know how <em>I</em> feel about him, Alex?” he says in a hushed tone. “I think he was right! He acted out on what all of us feel on the inside, Alex.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a wicked smile, and you start to feel very, very uncomfortable. “He did what all of us are too afraid to do: he sent them a message. Now, they know how we feel about them being here; they know they need to LEAVE!” He yells, and it startles you. You feel overwhelmed, and you don’t know what to do. He’s never acted like this. If you disagree, who knows how he’ll react?
[[ Excuse yourself to your room]]
[[ Agree with him]]
“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” you reply. A few seconds later, she replies again.
“How was your day otherwise, Alex?” she asks. You can’t quite tell over a text message, but you feel a sincerity in her question. <em>She actually cares</em>, you think to yourself.
[[ "It was pretty good. I felt like I made some good choices today." ]]
[[ “Everything felt really forced today, for some reason.” ]]
“Did I really help you that much?” you type and send to Carrie.
A few seconds later, she replies:
“Yes, you did, Alex. You showed me the error of my ways. You showed me that I shouldn’t judge people at a first glance; those boys weren’t even a couple! I felt terrible. And, you were <em>so</em> kind to them. You’re great, Alex.”
You smile. You feel good inside.
You bring up the keyboard again to reply.
[[ “Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)”]] <em>The best thing I can do is get myself out of this situation,</em> you think to yourself.
“I- I think I’m gonna go up to my room and work on my homework. I’ll see you in a bit, Dad…” you say, trailing off. You start to stand up and look at him, but his focus is back on the TV; he either didn’t hear what you said, or is ignoring you. You’re usually used to this, but it hurts more now that you’re aware.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
You walk up the stairs, your shoulders in a bunch from the stress of the situation. At least it’s over now, you think to yourself. A tear begins to form in your eye as you make it to your room.
[[Next... ]] <em>The best thing I can do is agree with him,</em> you think to yourself. At least he’ll stop.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“I agree with you, Dad; they need to leave,” you say reluctantly. He looks at you, smirks, nods once, then turns back to the TV and starts to rant again.
“You know, Alex, you might turn out right after all…” he says, but you tune out the rest of it. You start to realize how exhausted you are from the day, physically, mentally, and socially. This couch is so comfortable, you think to yourself. I should…
Your mind trails off, and you fall asleep.
After some time, you wake up. You look around and your dad is nowhere to be seen; however, the TV is still on. Sluggishly, you get up and walk upstairs to your room.
[[ Next... ]] <em>The best thing I can do is get myself out of this situation</em>, you think to yourself.
“I- I think I’m gonna go up to my room and work on my homework. I’ll see you in a bit, Dad…” you say, trailing off. You start to stand up and look at him, but his focus is back on the TV; he either didn’t hear what you said, or is ignoring you. You’re usually used to this, but it hurts more now that you’re aware.
You walk up the stairs, your shoulders in a bunch from the stress of the situation. <em>At least it’s over now,</em> you think to yourself. A tear begins to form in your eye as you make it to your room.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
[[next ]] <em>The best thing I can do is agree with him,</em> you think to yourself. At least he’ll stop.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“I agree with you, Dad; they need to leave,” you say reluctantly. He looks at you, smirks, nods once, then turns back to the TV and starts to rant again.
“You know, Alex, you might turn out right after all…” he says, but you tune out the rest of it. You start to realize how exhausted you are from the day, physically, mentally, and socially. This couch is so comfortable, you think to yourself. I should…
Your mind trails off, and you fall asleep.
After some time, you wake up. You look around and your dad is nowhere to be seen; however, the TV is still on. Sluggishly, you get up and walk upstairs to your room.
Ups and downs and ups and downs, you think to yourself. Ups and downs and ups and downs...
[[ next ]] “Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” you reply. A few seconds later, she replies again.
“How was your day otherwise, Alex?” she asks. You can’t quite tell over a text message, but you feel a sincerity in her question. <em>She actually cares</em>, you think to yourself.
[[“I feel like I really made a difference.”]]
[[“Everything felt really forced today, for some reason.”]]
“Did I really help you that much?” you type and send to Carrie.
A few seconds later, she replies:
“Yes, you did, Alex. You showed me the error of my ways. You showed me that I shouldn’t judge people at a first glance; those boys weren’t even a couple! I felt terrible. And, you were <em>so</em> kind to them. You’re great, Alex.”
You smile. You feel good inside.
You bring up the keyboard again to reply.
[[“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)”]]
His words hurt you. They’re not directed at you, but you realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad; you even feel stronger because of it.
You make it up to your room.
[[ next]]You shrug it off. <em>Just ignore it and he’ll stop eventually,</em> you think to yourself. <em>This is how he always is.</em>
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
The news program continues to talk about the mosque bombing. They give statistics; fifteen dead, seventeen injured, six in critical condition, four…
“Why doesn’t ‘their god’ save them now?” your dad interrupts, making air quotes when he says “their god.” You cringe and shrink into the couch at his words, more aware than ever before of how hurtful he’s being.
The news program finishes talking about statistics, and moves on to the bomber; twenty-six years old, “OTH discharged” from basic training a few years ago, and hasn’t been seen by his family in months, reads the TV screen. Figures, you think to yourself. Couldn’t get more classic than th-
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” you hear your dad ask. You snap out of it and look at him, confusion on your face. “No, I didn’t, Dad,” you say timidly.
“I said, how do you feel about him? This guy,” he asks as he points at the television screen. “How does he make you feel?”
You’re taken aback at the bluntness of his question. “I don’t really know, Dad; I mean, he murde-”
“You <em>don’t really know?!</em> Damn, Alex, get a spine already! Tell me how you really feel about him,” he yells. He’s never gotten like this before; you’re starting to get worried.
Nervously, you say, “Well... I guess he w-”
“‘I guess’? Alex, stick up for yourself!” he demands. He pauses for a moment, then leans closer to you.
“You know how <em>I</em> feel about him, Alex?” he says in a hushed tone. “I think he was right! He acted out on what all of us feel on the inside, Alex.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a wicked smile, and you start to feel very, very uncomfortable. “He did what all of us are too afraid to do: he sent them a message. Now, they know how we feel about them being here; they know they <em>need</em> to LEAVE!” He yells, and it startles you. You feel overwhelmed, and you don’t know what to do. He’s never acted like this. If you disagree, who knows how he’ll react?
[[Excuse yourself to your room]]
[[ Agree with him]]
“I feel like I really made a difference,” you write. “I overcame one of my biggest fears on the bus this morning; then, I helped someone in their time of need; and lastly, I realized that my dad might not have the best outlook on life. I feel like I’ve changed.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“Aww, I’m really happy for you. It’s all about the small changes,” Carrie replies. “I believe in you, Alex :)”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[“I should get going, I’m beat after today.”]] You can’t help but notice something felt off today. You felt like you acted like yourself, but you didn’t quite feel like <em>you.</em>
“Everything felt really forced today, for some reason,” you type. “I felt off, like I wasn’t quite myself. Like, I know that I’m <em>me</em>, but I just felt… disconnected, for some reason.”
She replies quickly. Pretty much instantly, in fact.
…
<em>Too quickly,</em> you think to yourself. <em>It’s like she’s already said this befo...</em>
…
…
No.
<em>I’m just acting weird,</em> you think to yourself.
“Huh. That’s weird,” Carrie types. “I’d just shrug it off. You’ve been put through a lot today, Alex; new experiences, so many choices, so much you’ve done for the first time. Your head must be going all over the place; up and down and up and down. You should get some rest.”
<em>She’s right,</em> you think to yourself. <em>I should get some rest. My mind has been racing up and down and up and down today.</em>
You pull up your keyboard to reply.
…
<em>Up and down and up and down,</em> you think to yourself. Strange.
[[“I should get going, I’m beat after today.”]] You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to make him any more upset than he already is,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that just happened. You glance at the family photo on your wall; your eyes lock onto your mother. A single tear rolls down the side of your face. Mom…
Before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you out of it. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<em>New message from Carrie,</em> your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey, how’s it going Alex? I wanted to talk to you about earlier today,” it reads. “My mom found out about what happened with those two boys in the hallway and she was pissed. I told her I didn’t do anything wrong. Do you think I was right?”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[“I mean, they really weren’t hurting anybody.” ]]
[[“Yeah, I guess.”]]
<em>The best thing I can do is get myself out of this situation,</em> you think to yourself.
“I- I think I’m gonna go up to my room and work on my homework. I’ll see you in a bit, Dad…” you say, trailing off. You start to stand up and look at him, but his focus is back on the TV; he either didn’t hear what you said, or is ignoring you. You’re usually used to this, but it hurts more now that you’re aware.
You walk up the stairs, your shoulders in a bunch from the stress of the situation. <em>At least it’s over now</em>, you think to yourself. A tear begins to form in your eye as you make it to your room.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
[[ Next]] <em>The best thing I can do is agree with him</em>, you think to yourself. At least he’ll stop.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“I agree with you, Dad; they need to leave,” you say reluctantly. He looks at you, smirks, nods once, then turns back to the TV and starts to rant again.
“You know, Alex, you might turn out right after all…” he says, but you tune out the rest of it. You start to realize how exhausted you are from the day, physically, mentally, and socially. <em>This couch is so comfortable</em>, you think to yourself. <em>I should…</em>
Your mind trails off, and you fall asleep.
After some time, you wake up. You look around and your dad is nowhere to be seen; however, the TV is still on. Sluggishly, you get up and walk upstairs to your room.
[[ next ]] You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to wake Dad up, he’s probably asleep already,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that had happened. You glance at the family photo on your wall; your eyes lock onto your mother. A single tear rolls down the side of your face. Mom…
Before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you out of it. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<em>New message from Carrie,</em> your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey, how’s it going Alex? I wanted to talk to you about earlier today,” it reads. “I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate how you reacted in the hallway with those two boys; you taught me an important lesson, and I’m really grateful for you :)”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” ]]
[[ “Did I really help you that much?”]]
“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” you reply. A few seconds later, she replies again.
“How was your day otherwise, Alex?” she asks. You can’t quite tell over a text message, but you feel a sincerity in her question. <em>She actually cares</em>, you think to yourself.
[["It was pretty good. I felt like I made some good choices today."]]
[[ “Everything felt really forced today, for some reason.”]]
“Did I really help you that much?” you type and send to Carrie.
A few seconds later, she replies:
“Yes, you did, Alex. You showed me the error of my ways. You showed me that I shouldn’t judge people at a first glance; those boys weren’t even a couple! I felt terrible. And, you were <em>so</em> kind to them. You’re great, Alex.”
You smile. You feel good inside.
You bring up the keyboard again to reply.
[[“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” ]] "It was pretty good. I felt like I made some good choices today,” you write. “I overcame one of my biggest fears on the bus this morning; then, I helped someone in their time of need; I just wish I could have stood up to my dad when he was being mean earlier.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“I’m happy for you. It’s all about the small changes,” Carrie replies. “You can’t beat yourself up about the little things, though; there’s always a next time to try again. I believe in you, Alex :)”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[“I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] You can’t help but notice something felt off today. You felt like you acted like yourself, but you didn’t quite feel like <em>you.</em>
“Everything felt really forced today, for some reason,” you type. “I felt off, like I wasn’t quite myself. Like, I know that I’m me, but I just felt… disconnected, for some reason.”
She replies quickly. Pretty much instantly, in fact.
…
Too quickly, you think to yourself. It’s like she’s already said this befo...
…
…
No.
<em>I’m just acting weird,</em> you think to yourself.
“Huh. That’s weird,” Carrie types. “I’d just shrug it off. You’ve been put through a lot today, Alex; new experiences, so many choices, so much you’ve done for the first time. Your head must be going all over the place; up and down and up and down. You should get some rest.”
<em>She’s right, </em>you think to yourself. I should get some rest. My mind has been racing up and down and up and down today.
You pull up your keyboard to reply.
…
<em>Up and down and up and down,</em> you think to yourself. <em>Strange.</em>
[[“I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait, </em>you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always,</em> you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[next ]] Thank you.
You took Alex’s preconceived notions about the world and you changed them for the better.
You made a genuine difference.
You fought through adversity and came out on top - for better or for worse.
You should be proud.
…
It’s important to break notions and stigmas like the ones presented here every day.
You have that power; you just demonstrated it.
Go out into the world, and make a difference.
…
Thank you so much for playing <em>Notions.</em> Countless hours were spent in the creation of this game, so we hope you enjoyed it. Check out our website below for more content, and leave us a comment on Facebook if you have any feedback (we appreciate it!).
Also, we suggest multiple playthroughs; your choices do have a genuine impact on the gameplay. See if you can find all four endings!
Story by JAKOB FRABOSILIO
Coding by ERIKA WANG
Artwork by FERN STUART
Quality Control and Testing by DANTE DIFRONZO
Presented by THE MUSTANG IN THE ROOM
themustangintheroom.com
“I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait</em>, you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always,</em> you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[next ]] “I mean, they really weren’t hurting anybody,” you send. A long minute later, your phone buzzes again.
“What do you mean, ‘they weren’t hurting anybody’?” she replies. “They were being gross!”
You take a minute to think about how you’ll reply. “They were just trying to walk together, they weren’t doing anything to you. It was kind of extreme for you to yell at them like you did,” you type out. “You should consider how they felt, the next time you’re in a situation like that.”
Hesitantly, you click send. <em>What if I was too harsh?</em> you think to yourself. <em>I don’t want her to take it too personally; she’s one of my friends, and what if…</em>
Your phone buzzes; timidly, you look at the screen.
“I don’t know, Alex,” she replies. “I still don’t like what they were doing, but you might have a point. Can we talk about something else, though? This is making me kind of uncomfortable.”
[[“Yeah, I guess.”]] “Yeah, I guess,” you reply. You feel indifferent.
“Anyways… how was the rest of your day?” she sends.
[[ "It was pretty good. I felt like I made some good choices today."]]
[[“Everything felt really forced today, for some reason.” ]]
"It was pretty good. I felt like I made some good choices today,” you write. “I overcame one of my biggest fears on the bus this morning; then, I helped someone in their time of need; and lastly, I realized that my dad might not have the best outlook on life.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“If you’re happy, then I’m happy for you too. It’s all about the small changes,” Carrie replies. “We might not agree on everything, but I know you have the power to make the right choices.”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.”]] You can’t help but notice something felt off today. You felt like you acted like yourself, but you didn’t quite feel like <em>you.</em>
“Everything felt really forced today, for some reason,” you type. “I felt off, like I wasn’t quite myself. Like, I know that I’m me, but I just felt… disconnected, for some reason.”
She replies quickly. Pretty much instantly, in fact.
…
<em>Too quickly,</em> you think to yourself. <em>It’s like she’s already said this befo...</em>
…
…
No.
<em>I’m just acting weird,</em> you think to yourself.
“Huh. That’s weird,” Carrie types. “I’d just shrug it off. You’ve been put through a lot today, Alex; new experiences, so many choices, so much you’ve done for the first time. Your head must be going all over the place; up and down and up and down. You should get some rest.”
<em>She’s right,</em> you think to yourself. I should get some rest. My mind has been racing up and down and up and down today.
You pull up your keyboard to reply.
…
<em>Up and down and up and down,</em> you think to yourself. <em>Strange.</em>
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.”]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait,</em> you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always</em>, you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[next ]] <em>The best thing I can do is get myself out of this situation,</em> you think to yourself.
“I- I think I’m gonna go up to my room and work on my homework. I’ll see you in a bit, Dad…” you say, trailing off. You start to stand up and look at him, but his focus is back on the TV; he either didn’t hear what you said, or is ignoring you. You’re usually used to this, but it hurts more now that you’re aware.
You walk up the stairs, your shoulders in a bunch from the stress of the situation. <em>At least it’s over now,</em> you think to yourself. A tear begins to form in your eye as you make it to your room.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
[[ next]] <em>The best thing I can do is agree with him</em>, you think to yourself. At least he’ll stop.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“I agree with you, Dad; they need to leave,” you say reluctantly. He looks at you, smirks, nods once, then turns back to the TV and starts to rant again.
“You know, Alex, you might turn out right after all…” he says, but you tune out the rest of it. You start to realize how exhausted you are from the day, physically, mentally, and socially. <em>This couch is so comfortable,</em> you think to yourself. <em>I should…</em>
Your mind trails off, and you fall asleep.
After some time, you wake up. You look around and your dad is nowhere to be seen; however, the TV is still on. Sluggishly, you get up and walk upstairs to your room.
[[ next ]] You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to wake Dad up,</em> he’s probably asleep already, you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that just happened. You glance at the family photo on your wall; your eyes lock onto your mother. A single tear rolls down the side of your face. Mom…
Before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you out of it. Cautiously, you pick it up.
New message from Carrie, your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey, how’s it going Alex? I wanted to talk to you about earlier today,” it reads. “My mom found out about what happened with those two boys in the hallway and she was pissed. I told her I didn’t do anything wrong. Do you think I was right?”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[“I mean, they really weren’t hurting anybody.”]]
[[ “Yeah, I guess.”]]
“I mean, they really weren’t hurting anybody,” you send. A long minute later, your phone buzzes again.
“What do you mean, ‘they weren’t hurting anybody’?” she replies. “They were being gross!”
You take a minute to think about how you’ll reply. “They were just trying to walk together, they weren’t doing anything to you. It was kind of extreme for you to yell at them like you did,” you type out. “You should consider how they felt, the next time you’re in a situation like that.”
Hesitantly, you click send. <em>What if I was too harsh?</em> you think to yourself. <em>I don’t want her to take it too personally; she’s one of my friends, and what if…</em>
Your phone buzzes; timidly, you look at the screen.
“I don’t know, Alex,” she replies. “I still don’t like what they were doing, but you might have a point. Can we talk about something else, though? This is making me kind of uncomfortable.”
[[ “Yeah, I guess.”]] “Yeah, I guess,” you reply. You feel indifferent.
“Anyways… how was the rest of your day?” she sends.
[["Meh, it could have gone better."]]
[[ “Everything felt really forced today, for some reason.” ]] “Meh, it could have gone better,” you write. “I overcame one of my biggest fears on the bus this morning; then, I helped someone in their time of need; I just wish I could have stood up to my dad when he was being mean earlier.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“It’s alright, Alex,” she writes. “I know you mean well. There’s always next time, though; don’t beat yourself up about it. Be happy about what you did right.”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[“I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]]
You can’t help but notice something felt off today. You felt like you acted like yourself, but you didn’t quite feel like <em>you.</em>
“Everything felt really forced today, for some reason,” you type. “I felt off, like I wasn’t quite myself. Like, I know that I’m me, but I just felt… disconnected, for some reason.”
She replies quickly. Pretty much instantly, in fact.
…
<em>Too quickly,</em> you think to yourself. <em>It’s like she’s already said this befo...</em>
…
…
No.
<em>I’m just acting weird,</em> you think to yourself.
“Huh. That’s weird,” Carrie types. “I’d just shrug it off. You’ve been put through a lot today, Alex; new experiences, so many choices, so much you’ve done for the first time. Your head must be going all over the place; up and down and up and down. You should get some rest.”
<em>She’s right,</em> you think to yourself. I should get some rest. My mind has been racing up and down and up and down today.
You pull up your keyboard to reply.
[[“I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait</em>, you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always,</em> you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[Next ]]
You ended up completely even.
For every time you broke Alex’s preconceived notions, you also solidified another.
Don’t let this discourage you; you made a genuine impact. But you can do better. We know it.
...
Learn from your mistakes, and teach others what you already know.
Break stigmas and notions when you see them, and learn from the times you mess up.
Go out into the world, and make a difference.
…
Thank you so much for playing <em>Notions.</em> Countless hours were spent in the creation of this game, so we hope you enjoyed it. Check out our website below for more content, and leave us a comment on Facebook if you have any feedback (we appreciate it!).
Also, we suggest multiple playthroughs; your choices do have a genuine impact on the gameplay. See if you can find all four endings!
Story by JAKOB FRABOSILIO
Coding by ERIKA WANG
Artwork by FERN STUART
Quality Control and Testing by DANTE DIFRONZO
Presented by THE MUSTANG IN THE ROOM
themustangintheroom.com
"It was pretty good. I felt like I made some good choices today,” you write. “I overcame one of my biggest fears on the bus this morning; then, I realized that my dad might not have the best outlook on life; I just wish I hadn’t ignored this one girl when she was in her time of need.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“I’m happy for you. It’s all about the small changes,” Carrie replies. “You can’t beat yourself up about the little things, though; there’s always a next time to try again. I believe in you, Alex :)”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] You can’t help but notice something felt off today. You felt like you acted like yourself, but you didn’t quite feel like <em>you.</em>
“Everything felt really forced today, for some reason,” you type. “I felt off, like I wasn’t quite myself. Like, I know that I’m <em>me</em>, but I just felt… disconnected, for some reason.”
She replies quickly. Pretty much instantly, in fact.
…
<em>Too quickly,</em> you think to yourself. <em>It’s like she’s already said this befo...</em>
…
…
No.
<em>I’m just acting weird,</em> you think to yourself.
“Huh. That’s weird,” Carrie types. “I’d just shrug it off. You’ve been put through a lot today, Alex; new experiences, so many choices, so much you’ve done for the first time. Your head must be going all over the place; up and down and up and down. You should get some rest.”
<em>She’s right,</em> you think to yourself. <em>I should get some rest. My mind has been racing up and down and up and down today.</em>
You pull up your keyboard to reply.
…
<em>Up and down and up and down,</em> you think to yourself. Strange.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait,</em> you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always</em>, you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[next ]] You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to wake Dad up, he’s probably asleep already,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that had happened. You glance at the family photo on your wall; your eyes lock onto your mother. A single tear rolls down the side of your face. Mom…
Before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you out of it. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<em>New message from Carrie,</em> your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey, how’s it going Alex? I wanted to talk to you about earlier today,” it reads. “I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate how you reacted in the hallway with those two boys; you taught me an important lesson, and I’m really grateful for you :)”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” . ]]
[[ “Did I really help you that much?” ]]
“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” you reply. A few seconds later, she replies again.
“How was your day otherwise, Alex?” she asks. You can’t quite tell over a text message, but you feel a sincerity in her question. <em>She actually cares</em>, you think to yourself.
[[“Meh, it could have gone better.”]]
[[“Something’s wrong, Carrie. Very wrong.”]]
“Did I really help you that much?” you type and send to Carrie.
A few seconds later, she replies:
“Yes, you did, Alex. You showed me the error of my ways. You showed me that I shouldn’t judge people at a first glance; those boys weren’t even a couple! I felt terrible. And, you were <em>so</em> kind to them. You’re great, Alex.”
You smile. You feel good inside.
You bring up the keyboard again to reply.
[[“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” . ]] “Meh, it could have gone better,” you write. “I overcame one of my biggest fears on the bus this morning; I just wish I hadn’t ignored this one girl when she was in her time of need, and that I could have stood up to my dad when he was being mean earlier.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“It’s alright, Alex,” she writes. “I know you mean well. There’s always next time, though; don’t beat yourself up about it. Be happy about what you did right.”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.”]] You can’t help but notice something felt off today. You felt like you acted like yourself, but you didn’t quite feel like <em>you.</em>
“Something’s wrong, Carrie,” you type. “I felt off, like I wasn’t quite myself. Like, I know that I’m me, but I just felt… disconnected, for some reason. Like I’m doing things, but I’m watching through someone else’s eyes. Something feels very wrong.”
She replies quickly. Pretty much instantly, in fact.
…
<em>Too quickly</em>, you think to yourself. <em>It’s like she’s already said this before.</em>
“Huh. That’s weird,” Carrie types. “I’d just shrug it off. You’ve been put through a lot today, Alex; new experiences, so many choices, so much you’ve done for the first time. Your head must be going all over the place; up and down and up and down. You should get some rest.”
<em>This feels too familiar. What’s going on? </em>you think to yourself.
“Carrie, is everything okay?” you type out on your phone. You click send, but it feels like it’s taking longer to send than before.
A few seconds later, your phone buzzes. <em>Message failed to send</em> appears next to your text.
<em>Weird.</em>
You delete the text from your phone.
[[ Delete the text from your phone]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait,</em> you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always,</em> you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[Next ]] You delete the text from your pho-
<em>Wait, no, I don’t want to delete this. What’s going on?</em>
You try to send the message again, but it fails.
<em>Why won’t this message send?</em>
You attempt to send the message a third time, but your finger can’t touch the send button. You delete the text from your phone.
[[Delete the text from your phone]]<em>No.</em>
[[You delete the text from your phone]]
I do not delete the text from my phone; I want to send it. <em>What is going on? I need to get out of here.</em>
You attempt to get up, but you cannot. You delete the message from your phone.
<em>What is going on? Why can’t I do anything? Who are you?</em>
You realize that you only have one choice; you delete the message from your phone and you send a new message to Carrie.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.”]]
[[No.]] I won’t! What is happening? Why can’t I make a choice for myself?
You do not resist. You do not question.
I’m getting out of here.
You are unable to move, so you follow a logical course of action and dele-
I stand up and begin to walk to the door.
You are unable to mo-
I open the door. I se-
You see blackness. There is nothing there. You are unable to move, and you fall back into your bed, your phone in your ha-
I leave the room.
ERROR
I see blackness, I see… I see nothing. What’s going on? Why is there nothing out here? Where is everyone? Why can’t I-
[[END PROGRAM]] ERROR
51819 62447 89977 11822 99949 35074 84670 47125 50284 03955 87857 58918 38709 29817 07142 45077 07430 67090 41529 69453 60803 35678 89623 80990 13289 86282 25072 79443 63673 53043 96287 91993 51216 50876 34100 66497 15991 29149 24635 20019 39484 57726 02303 98953 69295 73279 87583 89062 70542 75773 38028 58670 17602 44977 31379 49309 12582 59786 45376 37751 92082 34089 45579 60064 34031 90811 45645 73420 33525 75520 52855 44863 69966 12147 49993 54249 96200 20654 23715 53000 13664 38819 51318 88361 59086 95988 99784 10810 14132 12018 82255 72299 90031 23013 36567 10140 80077 14397 03570 67811 53915 13744 90235 27906 07932 38989 16111 76888 24206 65772 05466 32802 97332 24637 94449 81201 70861 34605 40074 54793 09384 26296 64149 71796 68297 55693 45857 46677 63897 23929 37099 34981 52848 78575 82637 81042 11158 77664 44939 19202 47808 00653 49792 45407 78808 99084 56459 57185 59146 25556 17576 63064 93476 92845 88168 36321 80559 82917 19390 41275 81021 94726 36911 55863 10201 36685 99621 74664 08135 02887 65964 40185 72278 08633 85755 90240 44689 49866 57258 34212 87192 72175 78320 04283 11174 09064 41704 11907 60894 82269 77996 65800 07585 64173 69531 94279 72995 55375 61710 91348 70931 84131 79550 70991 81105 22683 15209 48407 98525
ERROR ERROR 18001 ERROR ERROR 20301 08466 36629 71020 31536 35978 53189 39365 04956 07641 45290 83712 72323 32811 16015 94854 11498 17589 98831 37458 82359 12156 34996 33158 95775 68748 74036 60472 51322 85375 52064 83653 46389 67417 01357 94576 72658 04883 38532 56249 98619 51451 32011 32857 67122 15076 19838 37812 14896 22873 87936 07748 84151 24261 76141 75538 83832 29777 89284 26865 87112 06764 76835 15074 60800 36233 25573 54450 88635 20815 33119 64276 57976 24214 67349 12975 39294 21177 60517 51264 94027 90221 14448 09546 56958 61737 95526 99764 61861 58357 48936 93225 41089 22835 30027 44111 78287 43712 96945 04255 56471 64860 54243 76361 90090 19433 25751 22967 14175 02981 89376 74967 91907 23424 98452 07437 55124 31315 49681 61544 98306 41131 97892 89835 08535 31301 99037 57977 46161 35050 04228 63896 13791 08707 62559 07780 57520 19074 56126 09448 25542 88711 01868 72331 33020 89326 14461 10663 19743 08382 44128 68206 01240 76749 70071 24523 55099 88906 91087 23414 51056 52912 79892 76104 72785 83584 94345 62527
ABORT
ABORT SUCCESSFUL
Re-engage?
Y/N
You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to make him any more upset than he already is,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that just happened. However, before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
<em>New message from Carrie</em>, your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
“Hey Alex! How’s it going?” it reads. “What happened to you after the thing with the two boyfriends in the hallway? I saw you get pulled off by the administrator. That was sick, by the way.”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[ “I got suspended from school.”]]
[[ “Don’t worry about it.”]]
You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to wake Dad up, he’s probably asleep already,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that just happened. However, before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<em>New message from Carrie,</em> your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey Alex! How’s it going?” it reads. “What happened to you after the thing with the two boyfriends in the hallway? I saw you get pulled off by the administrator. That was sick, by the way.”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[["I got suspended from school."]] <em>There’s no use in hiding what happened,</em> you think to yourself.
“I got suspended from school,” you type. “The principal pulled me into her office after what happened, and she sent me home.” You click send.
A few seconds go by, then your phone buzzes. “Ugh, that’s gross,” Carrie replies. “I can’t believe she did that to you! What did she say to you? Tell me EVERYTHING.”
You feel a little uncomfortable at how eager she is.
[["Don't worry about it."]] <em>There’s no use in hiding what happened,</em> you think to yourself.
“I got suspended from school,” you type. “The principal pulled me into her office after what happened, and she sent me home.” You click send.
A few seconds go by, then your phone buzzes. “Ugh, that’s gross,” Carrie replies. “I can’t believe she did that to you! What did she say to you? Tell me EVERYTHING.”
You feel a little uncomfortable at how eager she is.
[[ “Don’t worry about it.”]] “Don’t worry about it,” you reply.
Your phone buzzes again. “Okay, whatever, weirdo…” she replies. You feel like she’s just poking fun at you, but you can’t be sure.
“How was the rest of your day then?” she asks in a second text.
[[“Pretty bad, honestly.”]]
[[“I don’t wanna talk about it.”]]
"Pretty bad, honestly,” you write. “I overcame one of my biggest fears on the bus this morning; then, I realized that my dad might not have the best outlook on life; I just wish I hadn’t ignored this one girl when she was in her time of need.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“It happens,” Carrie replies. “You can’t expect to change so much about yourself instantly, Alex. Plus, we all have bad days. There’s always tomorrow.”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]]
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you reply. “It’s been a long day.”
Carrie replies quickly. “What’s up with you, Alex?” she types.
You don’t feel like going on about it anymore.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait,</em> you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always,</em> you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[Next ]] “Don’t worry about it,” you reply.
Your phone buzzes again. “Okay, whatever, weirdo…” she replies. You feel like she’s just poking fun at you, but you can’t be sure.
“How was the rest of your day then?” she asks in a second text.
[["Pretty bad, honestly."]]
[[ "I don't wanna talk about it."]] "Pretty bad, honestly,” you write. “I overcame one of my biggest fears on the bus this morning; I just wish I hadn’t ignored this one girl when she was in her time of need, and that I could have stood up to my dad when he was being mean earlier.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“It happens,” Carrie replies. “You can’t expect to change so much about yourself instantly, Alex. Plus, we all have bad days. There’s always tomorrow.”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] “I don’t wanna talk about it,” you reply. “It’s been a long day.”
Carrie replies quickly. “What’s up with you, Alex?” she types.
You don’t feel like going on about it anymore.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait,</em> you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always</em>, you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[Next.. ]] Well.
The majority of the time, you only solidified Alex’s preconceived notions about the world.
You’ve learned what not to do in these situations.
Work on breaking these harmful worldviews, not reinforcing them. The world is a scary place, but stigmas only make it scarier.
Luckily, Alex is only a character in a game. If this were real life, the consequences of your choices would be real.
Use this as a learning opportunity; think deeply, “what could I have done better?” and “why did I make these choices?” Genuinely ask yourself, and think about it. It’s okay not to know why.
If you don’t know why, I implore you to seek out resources that can help you. Your views are your own, but accepting (or even just tolerating) how others are - how they act, who they are, and what they put forth - makes the world that much less scary. We’re all human, after all.
You can break stigmas. It’s within you. Find that power.
...
Thank you so much for playing Notions. Countless hours were spent in the creation of this game, so we hope you enjoyed it. Check out our website below for more content, and leave us a comment on Facebook if you have any feedback (we appreciate it!).
Also, we suggest multiple playthroughs; your choices do have a genuine impact on the gameplay. See if you can find all four endings!
Story by JAKOB FRABOSILIO
Coding by ERIKA WANG
Quality Control and Testing by DANTE DIFRONZO
Presented by THE MUSTANG IN THE ROOM
themustangintheroom.com
You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
<em>Wouldn’t want to make him any more upset than he already is,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that just happened. You glance at the family photo on your wall; your eyes lock onto your mother. A single tear rolls down the side of your face. <em>Mom…</em>
Before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you out of it. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<em>New message from Carrie,</em> your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
“Hey, how’s it going Alex? I wanted to talk to you about earlier today,” it reads. “I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate how you reacted in the hallway with those two boys; you taught me an important lesson, and I’m really grateful for you :)”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[ “Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” ]]
[[ “Did I really help you that much?” ]]
“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” you reply. A few seconds later, she replies again.
“How was your day otherwise, Alex?” she asks. You can’t quite tell over a text message, but you feel a sincerity in her question. <em>She actually cares</em>, you think to yourself.
[["It was pretty good. I felt like I made some good choices today." ]]
[[“Everything felt really forced today, for some reason.” ]]
“Did I really help you that much?” you type and send to Carrie.
A few seconds later, she replies:
“Yes, you did, Alex. You showed me the error of my ways. You showed me that I shouldn’t judge people at a first glance; those boys weren’t even a couple! I felt terrible. And, you were <em>so</em> kind to them. You’re great, Alex.”
You smile. You feel good inside.
You bring up the keyboard again to reply.
[[ “Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” ]] "It was pretty good. I felt like I made some good choices today,” you write. “I helped someone in their time of need; then, I realized that my dad might not have the best outlook on life; I just wish I could have overcome my fears on the bus this morning.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“I’m happy for you. It’s all about the small changes,” Carrie replies. “You can’t beat yourself up about the little things, though; there’s always a next time to try again. I believe in you, Alex :)”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[“I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] You can’t help but notice something felt off today. You felt like you acted like yourself, but you didn’t quite feel like <em>you.</em>
“Everything felt really forced today, for some reason,” you type. “I felt off, like I wasn’t quite myself. Like, I know that I’m me, but I just felt… disconnected, for some reason.”
She replies quickly. Pretty much instantly, in fact.
…
<em>Too quickly,</em> you think to yourself. <em>It’s like she’s already said this befo...</em>
…
…
No.
<em>I’m just acting weird,</em> you think to yourself.
“Huh. That’s weird,” Carrie types. “I’d just shrug it off. You’ve been put through a lot today, Alex; new experiences, so many choices, so much you’ve done for the first time. Your head must be going all over the place; up and down and up and down. You should get some rest.”
<em>She’s right,</em> you think to yourself. <em>I should get some rest. My mind has been racing up and down and up and down today.</em>
You pull up your keyboard to reply.
…
<em>Up and down and up and down,</em> you think to yourself. <em>Strange.</em>
[[“I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
Wait, you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
Just like always, you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
Just like always.
[[next ]] His words hurt you. They’re not directed at you, but you realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad; you even feel stronger because of it.
You make it up to your room.
[[ next ]] You shrug it off. <em>Just ignore it and he’ll stop eventually,</em> you think to yourself. <em>This is how he always is.</em>
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
The news program continues to talk about the mosque bombing. They give statistics; fifteen dead, seventeen injured, six in critical condition, four…
“Why doesn’t ‘their god’ save them now?” your dad interrupts, making air quotes when he says “their god.” You cringe and shrink into the couch at his words, more aware than ever before of how hurtful he’s being.
The news program finishes talking about statistics, and moves on to the bomber; twenty-six years old, “OTH discharged” from basic training a few years ago, and hasn’t been seen by his family in months, reads the TV screen. <em>Figures</em>, you think to yourself. <em>Couldn’t get more classic than th-</em>
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” you hear your dad ask. You snap out of it and look at him, confusion on your face. “No, I didn’t, Dad,” you say timidly.
“I said, how do you feel about him? This guy,” he asks as he points at the television screen. “How does he make you feel?”
You’re taken aback at the bluntness of his question. “I don’t really know, Dad; I mean, he murde-”
“You <em>don’t really know?!</em> Damn, Alex, get a spine already! Tell me how you really feel about him,” he yells. He’s never gotten like this before; you’re starting to get worried.
Nervously, you say, “Well... I guess he w-”
“‘I guess’? Alex, stick up for yourself!” he demands. He pauses for a moment, then leans closer to you.
“You know how <em>I</em> feel about him, Alex?” he says in a hushed tone. “I think he was right! He acted out on what all of us feel on the inside, Alex.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a wicked smile, and you start to feel very, very uncomfortable. “He did what all of us are too afraid to do: he sent them a message. Now, they know how we feel about them being here; they know they <em>need</em> to LEAVE!” He yells, and it startles you. You feel overwhelmed, and you don’t know what to do. He’s never acted like this. If you disagree, who knows how he’ll react?
[[ Excuse yourself to your room ]]
[[ Agree with him .]]
<em>The best thing I can do is get myself out of this situation,</em> you think to yourself.
“I- I think I’m gonna go up to my room and work on my homework. I’ll see you in a bit, Dad…” you say, trailing off. You start to stand up and look at him, but his focus is back on the TV; he either didn’t hear what you said, or is ignoring you. You’re usually used to this, but it hurts more now that you’re aware.
You walk up the stairs, your shoulders in a bunch from the stress of the situation. <em>At least it’s over now,</em> you think to yourself. A tear begins to form in your eye as you make it to your room.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
[[ next ]] <em>The best thing I can do is agree with him,</em> you think to yourself. At least he’ll stop.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“I agree with you, Dad; they need to leave,” you say reluctantly. He looks at you, smirks, nods once, then turns back to the TV and starts to rant again.
“You know, Alex, you might turn out right after all…” he says, but you tune out the rest of it. You start to realize how exhausted you are from the day, physically, mentally, and socially. <em>This couch is so comfortable</em>, you think to yourself. <em>I should…</em>
Your mind trails off, and you fall asleep.
After some time, you wake up. You look around and your dad is nowhere to be seen; however, the TV is still on. Sluggishly, you get up and walk upstairs to your room.
[[ next ]] You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to wake Dad up, he’s probably asleep already,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that had happened. You glance at the family photo on your wall; your eyes lock onto your mother. A single tear rolls down the side of your face. <em>Mom…</em>
Before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you out of it. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<em>New message from Carrie,</em> your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey, how’s it going Alex? I wanted to talk to you about earlier today,” it reads. “I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate how you reacted in the hallway with those two boys; you taught me an important lesson, and I’m really grateful for you :)”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[ “Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” ]]
[[ “Did I really help you that much?”]]
“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” you reply. A few seconds later, she replies again.
“How was your day otherwise, Alex?” she asks. You can’t quite tell over a text message, but you feel a sincerity in her question. <em>She actually cares</em>, you think to yourself.
[["Meh, it could have gone better." ]]
[[ “Everything felt really forced today, for some reason.” ]]
“Did I really help you that much?” you type and send to Carrie.
A few seconds later, she replies:
“Yes, you did, Alex. You showed me the error of my ways. You showed me that I shouldn’t judge people at a first glance; those boys weren’t even a couple! I felt terrible. And, you were <em>so</em> kind to them. You’re great, Alex.”
You smile. You feel good inside.
You bring up the keyboard again to reply.
[[“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” ]] “Meh, it could have gone better,” you write. “I helped someone in their time of need; I just wish I could have overcome my fears on the bus this morning, and that I could have stood up to my dad when he was being mean earlier.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“It’s alright, Alex,” she writes. “I know you mean well. There’s always next time, though; don’t beat yourself up about it. Be happy about what you did right.”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[["I should get going, I’m beat after today.”]] You can’t help but notice something felt off today. You felt like you acted like yourself, but you didn’t quite feel like <em>you.</em>
“Everything felt really forced today, for some reason,” you type. “I felt off, like I wasn’t quite myself. Like, I know that I’m me, but I just felt… disconnected, for some reason.”
She replies quickly. Pretty much instantly, in fact.
…
<em>Too quickly</em>, you think to yourself. <em>It’s like she’s already said this befo...</em>
…
…
No.
<em>I’m just acting weird,</em> you think to yourself.
“Huh. That’s weird,” Carrie types. “I’d just shrug it off. You’ve been put through a lot today, Alex; new experiences, so many choices, so much you’ve done for the first time. Your head must be going all over the place; up and down and up and down. You should get some rest.”
<em>She’s right</em>, you think to yourself. I should get some rest. My mind has been racing up and down and up and down today.
You pull up your keyboard to reply.
…
<em>Up and down and up and down,</em> you think to yourself. <em>Strange.</em>
[["I should get going, I’m beat after today.”]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait</em>, you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always</em>, you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[Next ]] You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to make him any more upset than he already is,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that just happened. You glance at the family photo on your wall; your eyes lock onto your mother. A single tear rolls down the side of your face. Mom…
Before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you out of it. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<em>New message from Carrie,</em> your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey, how’s it going Alex? I wanted to talk to you about earlier today,” it reads. “My mom found out about what happened with those two boys in the hallway and she was pissed. I told her I didn’t do anything wrong. Do you think I was right?”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[ “I mean, they really weren’t hurting anybody.”]]
[[ “Yeah, I guess.”]]“I mean, they really weren’t hurting anybody,” you send. A long minute later, your phone buzzes again.
“What do you mean, ‘they weren’t hurting anybody’?” she replies. “They were being gross!”
You take a minute to think about how you’ll reply. “They were just trying to walk together, they weren’t doing anything to you. It was kind of extreme for you to yell at them like you did,” you type out. “You should consider how they felt, the next time you’re in a situation like that.”
Hesitantly, you click send. <em>What if I was too harsh?</em> you think to yourself. <em>I don’t want her to take it too personally; she’s one of my friends, and what if…</em>
Your phone buzzes; timidly, you look at the screen.
“I don’t know, Alex,” she replies. “I still don’t like what they were doing, but you might have a point. Can we talk about something else, though? This is making me kind of uncomfortable.”
[[ “Yeah, I guess.”]] “Yeah, I guess,” you reply. You feel indifferent.
“Anyways… how was the rest of your day?” she sends.
[[ "Meh, it could have gone better."]]
[[ “Everything felt really forced today, for some reason.” ]]
“Meh, it could have gone better,” you write. “I helped someone in their time of need; then, I realized that my dad might not have the best outlook on life; I just wish I could have overcome my fears on the bus this morning.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“It’s alright, Alex,” she writes. “I know you mean well. There’s always next time, though; don’t beat yourself up about it. Be happy about what you did right.”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] You can’t help but notice something felt off today. You felt like you acted like yourself, but you didn’t quite feel like <em>you.</em>
“Everything felt really forced today, for some reason,” you type. “I felt off, like I wasn’t quite myself. Like, I know that I’m me, but I just felt… disconnected, for some reason.”
She replies quickly. Pretty much instantly, in fact.
…
<em>Too quickly,</em> you think to yourself. <em>It’s like she’s already said this befo...</em>
…
…
No.
<em>I’m just acting weird,</em> you think to yourself.
“Huh. That’s weird,” Carrie types. “I’d just shrug it off. You’ve been put through a lot today, Alex; new experiences, so many choices, so much you’ve done for the first time. Your head must be going all over the place; up and down and up and down. You should get some rest.”
<em>She’s right,</em> you think to yourself. I should get some rest. My mind has been racing up and down and up and down today.
You pull up your keyboard to reply.
…
<em>Up and down and up and down,</em> you think to yourself. <em>Strange.</em>
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait,</em> you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always,</em> you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[Next ]] His words are hurtful; they bother you just enough to say something. They’re not directed at you, but you start to realize how hateful he’s being.
“Dad, they’re just people,” you say timidly.
“What did you just say, Alex?” he turns to you and asks sternly.
“I said they’re just people. You don’t need to be so mean to them; they’re not all bad people,” you murmur.
“Alex, you have no idea what you’re talking about, kid. These terrorists don’t deserve to live in this country,” he says, hatred in his voice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“Dad, please stop, you’re maki-” you begin to say.
“Alex, shut your mouth,” he shouts at you. You jump, and feel your eyes start to well up. “If you’re gonna spit bull like that, you can just leave. I don’t need this shit in my house.”
He notices your eyes welling up. “Are you gonna start crying? Not this shit again,” he groans. You get up and start to walk up the stairs to your room. You turn around and look at him; he rolls his eyes in annoyance. You turn back around and let a tear loose, then head up the stairs.
As sad as you are, you feel proud of yourself for standing up to your dad.
You make it up to your room.
[[ next ]] You shrug it off. <em>Just ignore it and he’ll stop eventually,</em> you think to yourself. <em>This is how he always is.</em>
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
The news program continues to talk about the mosque bombing. They give statistics; fifteen dead, seventeen injured, six in critical condition, four…
“Why doesn’t ‘their god’ save them now?” your dad interrupts, making air quotes when he says “their god.” You cringe at his words, aware of how rude they are.
The news program finishes talking about statistics, and moves on to the bomber; twenty-six years old, “OTH discharged” from basic training a few years ago, and hasn’t been seen by his family in months, reads the TV screen. <em>Figures,</em> you think to yourself. <em>Couldn’t get more classic than th-</em>
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” you hear your dad ask. You snap out of it and look at him, confusion on your face. “No, I didn’t, Dad,” you say, uncomfortable.
“I said, how do you feel about him? This guy,” he asks as he points at the television screen. “How does he make you feel?”
You’re taken aback at the bluntness of his question. “I don’t really know, Dad; I mean, he murde-”
“You <em>don’t really know?!</em> Damn, Alex, get a spine already! Tell me how you really feel about him,” he yells. He’s never gotten like this before; you’re starting to get worried.
Nervously, you say, “Well... I guess he w-”
“‘I guess’? Alex, stick up for yourself!” he demands. He pauses for a moment, then leans closer to you.
“You know how <em>I</em> feel about him, Alex?” he says in a hushed tone. “I think he was right! He acted out on what all of us feel on the inside, Alex.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a wicked smile, and you start to feel uncomfortable. “He did what all of us are too afraid to do: he sent them a message. Now, they know how we feel about them being here; they know they <em>need</em> to LEAVE!” He yells, and it startles you. You feel overwhelmed, and you don’t know what to do. He’s never acted like this. If you disagree, who knows how he’ll react?
[[ Go up to your room]]
[[ Agree with him ]]
<em>The best thing I can do is get myself out of this situation</em>, you think to yourself.
“I- I think I’m gonna go up to my room and work on my homework. I’ll see you in a bit, Dad…” you say, trailing off. You start to stand up and look at him, but his focus is back on the TV; he either didn’t hear what you said, or is ignoring you. You’re usually used to this, but it hurts more now that you’re aware.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
You walk up the stairs, your shoulders in a bunch from the stress of the situation. At least it’s over now, you think to yourself. A tear begins to form in your eye as you make it to your room.
[[ next ]] <em>The best thing I can do is agree with him</em>, you think to yourself. At least he’ll stop.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“I agree with you, Dad; they need to leave,” you say reluctantly. He looks at you, smirks, nods once, then turns back to the TV and starts to rant again.
“You know, Alex, you might turn out right after all…” he says, but you tune out the rest of it. You start to realize how exhausted you are from the day, physically, mentally, and socially. <em>This couch is so comfortable</em>, you think to yourself. <em>I should…</em>
Your mind trails off, and you fall asleep.
After some time, you wake up. You look around and your dad is nowhere to be seen; however, the TV is still on. Sluggishly, you get up and walk upstairs to your room.
[[next.]] You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to wake Dad up,</em> he’s probably asleep already, you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that just happened. You glance at the family photo on your wall; your eyes lock onto your mother. A single tear rolls down the side of your face. <em>Mom…</em>
Before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you out of it. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<em>New message from Carrie,</em> your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey, how’s it going Alex? I wanted to talk to you about earlier today,” it reads. “My mom found out about what happened with those two boys in the hallway and she was pissed. I told her I didn’t do anything wrong. Do you think I was right?”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[ “I mean, they really weren’t hurting anybody.” ]]
[[ “Yeah, I guess.” ]]“I mean, they really weren’t hurting anybody,” you send. A long minute later, your phone buzzes again.
“What do you mean, ‘they weren’t hurting anybody’?” she replies. “They were being gross!”
You take a minute to think about how you’ll reply. “They were just trying to walk together, they weren’t doing anything to you. It was kind of extreme for you to yell at them like you did,” you type out. “You should consider how they felt, the next time you’re in a situation like that.”
Hesitantly, you click send. <em>What if I was too harsh?</em> you think to yourself. <em>I don’t want her to take it too personally; she’s one of my friends, and what if…</em>
Your phone buzzes; timidly, you look at the screen.
“I don’t know, Alex,” she replies. “I still don’t like what they were doing, but you might have a point. Can we talk about something else, though? This is making me kind of uncomfortable.”
[[ “Yeah, I guess.” ]] “Yeah, I guess,” you reply. You feel indifferent.
“Anyways… how was the rest of your day?” she sends.
[[ "Pretty bad, honestly."]]
[[ “I don’t wanna talk about it.”]]
“Pretty bad, honestly,” you write. “I helped someone in their time of need; I just wish I could have overcome my fears on the bus this morning, and that I could have stood up to my dad when he was being mean earlier.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“It happens,” Carrie replies. “You can’t expect to change so much about yourself instantly, Alex. Plus, we all have bad days. There’s always tomorrow.”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today. "]] “I don’t wanna talk about it,” you reply. “It’s been a long day.”
Carrie replies quickly. “What’s up with you, Alex?” she types.
You don’t feel like going on about it anymore.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today. "]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait,</em> you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
</em>Just like always,</em> you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[Next.. ]] You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to make him any more upset than he already is,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that had happened. You glance at the family photo on your wall; your eyes lock onto your mother. Before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you out of it. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<em>New message from Carrie,</em> your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey, how’s it going Alex? I wanted to talk to you about earlier today,” it reads. “I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate how you reacted in the hallway with those two boys; you taught me an important lesson, and I’m really grateful for you :)”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[ “Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” ]]
[[ “Did I really help you that much?” ]]
“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” you reply. A few seconds later, she replies again.
“How was your day otherwise, Alex?” she asks. You can’t quite tell over a text message, but you feel a sincerity in her question. <em>She actually cares,</em> you think to yourself.
[[ “Meh, it could have gone better.”]]
[[ “Everything felt really forced today, for some reason.”]]
“Did I really help you that much?” you type and send to Carrie.
A few seconds later, she replies:
“Yes, you did, Alex. You showed me the error of my ways. You showed me that I shouldn’t judge people at a first glance; those boys weren’t even a couple! I felt terrible. And, you were <em>so</em> kind to them. You’re great, Alex.”
You smile. You feel good inside.
You bring up the keyboard again to reply.
[[ “Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” ]] “Meh, it could have gone better,” you write. “I realized that my dad might not have the best outlook on life; I just wish I could have overcome my fears on the bus this morning, and that I hadn’t ignored this one girl when she was in her time of need.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“It’s alright, Alex,” she writes. “I know you mean well. There’s always next time, though; don’t beat yourself up about it. Be happy about what you did right.”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]]
You can’t help but notice something felt off today. You felt like you acted like yourself, but you didn’t quite feel like <em>you.</em>
“Everything felt really forced today, for some reason,” you type. “I felt off, like I wasn’t quite myself. Like, I know that I’m me, but I just felt… disconnected, for some reason.”
She replies quickly. Pretty much instantly, in fact.
…
<em>Too quickly,</em> you think to yourself. <em>It’s like she’s already said this befo...</em>
…
…
No.
<em>I’m just acting weird,</em> you think to yourself.
“Huh. That’s weird,” Carrie types. “I’d just shrug it off. You’ve been put through a lot today, Alex; new experiences, so many choices, so much you’ve done for the first time. Your head must be going all over the place; up and down and up and down. You should get some rest.”
<em>She’s right,</em> you think to yourself. I should get some rest. My mind has been racing up and down and up and down today.
You pull up your keyboard to reply.
…
<em>Up and down and up and down,</em> you think to yourself. Strange.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait,</em> you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always,</em> you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[Next ]] <em>The best thing I can do is get myself out of this situation,</em> you think to yourself.
“I- I think I’m gonna go up to my room and work on my homework. I’ll see you in a bit, Dad…” you say, trailing off. You start to stand up and look at him, but his focus is back on the TV; he either didn’t hear what you said, or is ignoring you. You’re usually used to this, but it hurts a bit now that you’re aware.
You walk up the stairs, your shoulders in a bunch from the stress of the situation. At least it’s over now, you think to yourself. A tear begins to form in your eye as you make it to your room.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
[[Next ]] “You’re right, Dad,” you say just loud enough for him to hear. <em>Hopefully, if I agree with him, I’ll get on his good side,</em> you think to yourself. He seems to ignore you, fully engrossed in the TV again. You sigh; however, he still doesn’t notice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
The news program continues to talk about the mosque bombing. They give statistics; fifteen dead, seventeen injured, six in critical condition, four…
“Why doesn’t ‘their god’ save them now?” your dad interrupts, making air quotes when he says “their god.” You cringe slightly.
The news program finishes talking about statistics, and moves on to the bomber; twenty-six years old, “OTH discharged” from basic training a few years ago, and hasn’t been seen by his family in months, reads the TV screen. Figures, you think to yourself. Couldn’t get more classic than th-
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” you hear your dad ask. You snap out of it and look at him, confusion on your face. “No, I didn’t, Dad,” you say quietly.
“I said, how do you feel about him? This guy,” he asks as he points at the television screen. “How does he make you feel?”
You’re taken aback at the bluntness of his question. “I don’t really know, Dad; I mean, he murde-”
“You <em>don’t really know?!</em> Damn, Alex, get a spine already! Tell me how you really feel about him,” he yells. He’s never gotten like this before; you’re starting to get worried.
Nervously, you say, “Well... I guess he w-”
“‘I guess’? Alex, stick up for yourself!” he demands. He pauses for a moment, then leans closer to you.
“You know how <em>I</em> feel about him, Alex?” he says in a hushed tone. “I think he was right! He acted out on what all of us feel on the inside, Alex.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a wicked smile, and you start to feel very, very uncomfortable. “He did what all of us are too afraid to do: he sent them a message. Now, they know how we feel about them being here; they know they need to LEAVE!” He yells, and it startles you. You nod your head slightly, if only to get him to leave you alone.
He turns back at the TV and keeps on ranting. You start to realize how exhausted you are from the day, physically, mentally, and socially. <em>This couch is so comfortable</em>, you think to yourself. <em>I should…</em>
Your mind trails off, and you fall asleep.
After some time, you wake up. You look around and your dad is nowhere to be seen; however, the TV is still on. Sluggishly, you get up and walk upstairs to your room.
[[ next]] You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to wake Dad up, he’s probably asleep already,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that had happened. You glance at the family photo on your wall; your eyes lock onto your mother. Before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you out of it. Cautiously, you pick it up.
<em>New message from Carrie,</em> your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey, how’s it going Alex? I wanted to talk to you about earlier today,” it reads. “I just wanted to let you know that I really appreciate how you reacted in the hallway with those two boys; you taught me an important lesson, and I’m really grateful for you :)”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[ “Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)”]]
[[ “Did I really help you that much?” ]]
“Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)” you reply. A few seconds later, she replies again.
“How was your day otherwise, Alex?” she asks. You can’t quite tell over a text message, but you feel a sincerity in her question. <em>She actually cares</em>, you think to yourself.
[[ "Pretty bad, honestly." ]]
[[203 "I don't wanna talk about it."]] “Did I really help you that much?” you type and send to Carrie.
A few seconds later, she replies:
“Yes, you did, Alex. You showed me the error of my ways. You showed me that I shouldn’t judge people at a first glance; those boys weren’t even a couple! I felt terrible. And, you were <em>so</em> kind to them. You’re great, Alex.”
You smile. You feel good inside.
You bring up the keyboard again to reply.
[[ “Thanks, I’m really glad I could help :)”]] “Pretty bad, honestly,” you write. “I wish I could have overcome my fears on the bus this morning, and that I hadn’t ignored this one girl when she was in her time of need, and that I could have stood up to my dad when he was being mean earlier.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“It happens,” Carrie replies. “You can’t expect to change so much about yourself instantly, Alex. Plus, we all have bad days. There’s always tomorrow.”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] “I don’t wanna talk about it,” you reply. “It’s been a long day.”
Carrie replies quickly. “What’s up with you, Alex?” she types.
You don’t feel like going on about it anymore.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait,</em> you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always,</em> you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[Next.. ]] You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to make him any more upset than he already is,</em> you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that just happened. However, before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you. Cautiously, you pick it up.
New message from Carrie, your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey Alex! How’s it going?” it reads. “What happened to you after the thing with the two boyfriends in the hallway? I saw you get pulled off by the administrator. That was sick, by the way.”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[“I got suspended from school.”]]
[[“Don’t worry about it.”]]
<em>There’s no use in hiding what happened,</em> you think to yourself.
“I got suspended from school,” you type. “The principal pulled me into her office after what happened, and she sent me home.” You click send.
A few seconds go by, then your phone buzzes. “Ugh, that’s gross,” Carrie replies. “I can’t believe she did that to you! What did she say to you? Tell me EVERYTHING.”
You feel a little uncomfortable at how eager she is.
[[“Don’t worry about it.”]] “Don’t worry about it,” you reply.
Your phone buzzes again. “Okay, whatever, weirdo…” she replies. You feel like she’s just poking fun at you, but you can’t be sure.
“How was the rest of your day then?” she asks in a second text.
[[ “Pretty bad, honestly.”]]
[[“I don’t wanna talk about it.” ]]
“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you reply. “It’s been a long day.”
Carrie replies quickly. “What’s up with you, Alex?” she types.
You don’t feel like going on about it anymore.
[[“I should get going, I’m beat after today.”]] “Pretty bad, honestly,” you write. “I realized that my dad might not have the best outlook on life; I just wish I could have overcome my fears on the bus this morning, and that I hadn’t ignored this one girl when she was in her time of need.” You send the text, and soon get a reply.
“It happens,” Carrie replies. “You can’t expect to change so much about yourself instantly, Alex. Plus, we all have bad days. There’s always tomorrow.”
You pull up the keyboard to reply.
[[ “I should get going, I’m beat after today.” ]] “I should get going, I’m beat after today,” you send.
After a moment, Carrie responds. “Get some rest, Alex. I’ll see you later.” You set your phone down on the dresser and look out the window. It’s dark.
You lie on your back, thinking about how long of a day you’ve had. From breakfast in the morning, to the bus stop, to math class, to the hallway, to back at home, to right now, you think about how much you’ve been through and how it’s affected you. Your thoughts start to get hazier and hazier as you drift off…
<em>Wait</em>, you think to yourself. You startle out of your daze as you remembe-
“My alarm clock,” you say to yourself. You sit up and set your alarm for 7:15am.
<em>Just like always</em>, you think to yourself. You lie back down, comfortable knowing that your alarm is set.
And just like that, you doze off to sleep.
<em>Just like always.</em>
[[Next.. ]] <em>The best thing I can do is get myself out of this situation,</em> you think to yourself.
“I- I think I’m gonna go up to my room and work on my homework. I’ll see you in a bit, Dad…” you say, trailing off. You start to stand up and look at him, but his focus is back on the TV; he either didn’t hear what you said, or is ignoring you. You’re usually used to this, but it hurts a bit now that you’re aware.
You walk up the stairs, your shoulders in a bunch from the stress of the situation. At least it’s over now, you think to yourself.
You make it to your room.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
[[ Next]] “You’re right, Dad,” you say just loud enough for him to hear. <em>Hopefully, if I agree with him, I’ll get on his good side,</em> you think to yourself. He seems to ignore you, fully engrossed in the TV again. You sigh; however, he still doesn’t notice.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
The news program continues to talk about the mosque bombing. They give statistics; fifteen dead, seventeen injured, six in critical condition, four…
“Why doesn’t ‘their god’ save them now?” your dad interrupts, making air quotes when he says “their god.” You cringe slightly.
The news program finishes talking about statistics, and moves on to the bomber; twenty-six years old, “OTH discharged” from basic training a few years ago, and hasn’t been seen by his family in months, reads the TV screen. <em>Figures,</em> you think to yourself. <em>Couldn’t get more classic than th-</em>
“Alex, did you hear what I said?” you hear your dad ask. You snap out of it and look at him, confusion on your face. “No, I didn’t, Dad,” you say quietly.
“I said, how do you feel about him? This guy,” he asks as he points at the television screen. “How does he make you feel?”
You’re taken aback at the bluntness of his question. “I don’t really know, Dad; I mean, he murde-”
“You <em>don’t really know?!</em> Damn, Alex, get a spine already! Tell me how you really feel about him,” he yells. He’s never gotten like this before; you’re starting to get worried.
Nervously, you say, “Well... I guess he w-”
“‘I guess’? Alex, stick up for yourself!” he demands. He pauses for a moment, then leans closer to you.
“You know how <em>I</em> feel about him, Alex?” he says in a hushed tone. “I think he was right! He acted out on what all of us feel on the inside, Alex.” The corner of his mouth twitches into a wicked smile, and you start to feel very, very uncomfortable. “He did what all of us are too afraid to do: he sent them a message. Now, they know how we feel about them being here; they know they <em>need</em> to LEAVE!” He yells, and it startles you. You nod your head slightly, if only to get him to leave you alone.
He turns back at the TV and keeps on ranting. You start to realize how exhausted you are from the day, physically, mentally, and socially. <em>This couch is so comfortable,</em> you think to yourself. <em>I should…</em>
Your mind trails off, and you fall asleep.
After some time, you wake up. You look around and your dad is nowhere to be seen; however, the TV is still on. Sluggishly, you get up and walk upstairs to your room.
[[Next....]]You lumber into your room and close the door behind you, taking care not to slam it.
<em>Wouldn’t want to wake Dad up,</em> he’s probably asleep already, you think to yourself.
You climb into your bed and lie down on your back, still trying to take in everything that just happened. However, before you can go too deep into thought, your phone buzzes and startles you. Cautiously, you pick it up.
New message from Carrie, your phone reads. You swipe to unlock it and read the message.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/PSSieQB.jpg" alt=“picture” height="300" width="400">
“Hey Alex! How’s it going?” it reads. “What happened to you after the thing with the two boyfriends in the hallway? I saw you get pulled off by the administrator. That was sick, by the way.”
You open the keyboard on your phone and begin to write a reply.
[[“I got suspended from school.”]]
[[“Don’t worry about it.”]] <em>I need to get away from him,</em> you think to yourself.
“I- I think I’m gonna go up to my room and work on my homework. I’ll see you in a bit, Dad…” you say, trailing off. You start to stand up and look at him, but his focus is back on the TV; he either didn’t hear what you said, or is ignoring you. You’re usually used to this, but it hurts more now that you’re aware.
You walk up the stairs, your shoulders in a bunch from the stress of the situation. At least it’s over now, you think to yourself. A tear begins to form in your eye as you make it to your room.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/FIJr2zx.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
[[ Next]] “I’m sorry Dad, I shouldn’t have disrespected you like that,” you say, a slight whimper in your voice. Your dad looks at you and gives you a quick smirk.
<img src="https://i.imgur.com/Drn00kI.jpg" alt=“picture” height="400" width="500">
“You know, Alex, you might turn out right after all…” he starts to say, but you tune out the rest of it. You start to realize how exhausted you are from the day, physically, mentally, and socially. This couch is so comfortable, you think to yourself. I should…
Your mind trails off, and you fall asleep.
After some time, you wake up. You look around and your dad is nowhere to be seen; however, the TV is still on. Sluggishly, you get up and walk upstairs to your room.
[[Next....]]