Slight Changes: The Life and Times of a Lost Boy {on hold}

Chapter 1.

Chapter 1.

What makes something lost?

When you can't find the keys to your car, or that lucky ring that your grandma gave you for Christmas, or even the remote to the television when your favorite show is on, these items are considered lost. We know they are somewhere on the face of the earth, but we cannot designate where exactly. But when you lose your mind, or your train of thought, or your own self, where do they go? Is there a place where your wildest dreams thrive and your scariest nightmares cascade like dark shadows? Where there are no laws to hold you on the ground or force you to grow old? A land where you never obey orders from grownups and never go to bed at your curfew and never do anything but have fun all day?

Only if you are lost yourself will you know the answers to these questions. But then that leads to another question. What makes a boy lost? It isn't that a boy can lose himself, but he can lose a great part of him. A part of him that defies the need to break rules and care about nothing at all. A lost boy has lost his adulthood. A lost boy has lost his ability to mature.  

*

"What'd you get in for?"

The clock's ticks came like water dripping from a faucet. With each slight movement the second hand made, it seemed to get slower and slower. Chandler had satisfied himself with beating his pencil repetitively on a desk decorated with your typical Grafton Middle School graffiti, when the activity was interrupted by this question.

Chandler was not a usual attendant to after-school detention and he feared he would get into trouble with the bigger kids, something that did not happen rarely. Because he was a very vulnerable and weak seventh grader, Chandler was an easy target for kids who wanted to pick a fight. His wits often came in handy for situations like these, but right now he knew he had no escape. They were in a confined room and the teacher was gone. Chandler nervously set down his pencil and turned his head to see who the whisper belonged to. Sitting next to him was a girl.

His heart went back to a regular tempo as he realised she was perfectly harmless. She had long, pin-straight blond hair that was messily parted with a face that was untouched by any cosmetic. She wore black vans with different colored socks on her feet, green Nike shorts, and a white tee that said "Camp Champs Runathon" in large, red bubble-letters.  After inspecting her a little more, he began to recognise the girl.

Although she was in the grade above him, he had heard a lot of things about her. She didn't have many friends and she got into trouble a lot. She was one of those girls who makes up silly stories, and if you accuse her of lying she'll pull your hair or sock you in the mouth. Or at least that's what he had heard. Chandler stared at her for a second before timidly responding.

"Um... I skipped school yesterday."

She smiled mischievously and nodded knowingly.

"You're Chad, right?" she leaned into his desk. Chandler looked at the door. It seemed as though the teacher had been in the bathroom for too long. He really did not want to get involved with this particular girl. He was already forming a bad reputation just by being here. But then of course, nobody had to know he talked to this girl. He looked around the room to see if there was anybody who could ruin his social life by telling everybody he made buddies with the freak. The only other kid in the classroom he even recognized was Lily Purser.

Purser was very quiet. She was that one girl who had been in every class with Chandler since the third grade. She was that one girl who just didn't really have any friends. She was that one girl who had gone unnoticed in every situation. Lily sat still as her desk, letting her black hair droop over her dark brown eyes. It was odd that such a shy girl earned an after school detention.  Chandler looked back at the girl next to him, who was still staring at him expectantly, waiting to hear if his name was Chad or not.