The Little Town of Lillston

The Stickman and His Pet

Bryson's day went by in a blur. His thoughts weren't very productive (lack of sleep is to blame), so he sat in all of his classes in a daze. He didn't fall asleep, but stared mindlessly at the homework he was given. During his science class, Callie kept trying to talk to him, but he didn't hear. He wouldn't listen to her. He couldn't even if he wanted to. His mind kept drifting. He had to go to therapy after school. The bell rings. Pick up his things, zip up his bag, move. Sit down. Bell rings. He didn't sleep last night. The bell rings. Pick up his things, zip up his bag, move. Sit down. Bell rings. What are cations? Kyle was the clown. The bell rings. Pick up his things, zip up his bag, move. Sit down. Bell rings.

Bryson was at lunch. It was too loud in the lunchroom. It muddled his brain even more. He didn't eat the school lunch. He hadn't brought anything to eat. He wasn't hungry. Well, he was, but he had more important things to worry about. Hunter and Sophia were sitting with their friends two tables away. Bryson shouldn't have fought with his mother. Something was wrong with him. He was losing his mind. He ran his hands through his dark, greasy hair. Maybe that was their plan. The monsters wanted him to lose his mind. They wanted him out of Lillston, the little town of horrors. Kyle wanted him out. Maybe Kyle was intimidated by Bryson. Bryson didn't know why; he wasn't strong. But he was a potential friend for Jack. That was it. Kyle was jealous because Bryson might take Jack from him.

A hand was on his shoulder; a sharp, bony hand. Bryson spun around (faster than he thought he could considering he felt like a zombie) and saw Callie standing there, with a lunch tray in her hand. She smacked it down next to him over the loud chatter and folded her arms across her chest. "You're going to listen," she said, pointing a finger in his face. "I can no longer stand by and watch you throw yourself down a hole. I have figured out the paper you gave me, but there's nothing I can do about it without you. As for Kyle and Jack-"

Before he knew it, Bryson was on his feet. "You don't get to tell me who my friends should be," he said a bit loudly. "Just because we are neighbors doesn't mean you know me! You see, Callie, you're always trying to be in the center of everything." He thew his hands into the air. "You're a drama queen! You have no personal space! And you think I want to be your friend? I don't have time for that! You're driving me insane! At least I'll be gone in a few days."

"What do you mean?" Callie asked. Her cheeks were red and her eyes were filled with tears, but she didn't let any of them fall.

"I'm going to be expelled!" he said loudly. "I deserve it, too!"

"Bryson, you don't deserve-"

"It's not about the grades, Callie," he said, shaking his head. He wanted to scream. "It's not about the grades. It's not about stupid Principal Kindell."

Callie grabbed his arm tightly and pulled him aside despite his wince. She pulled him all the way out of the cafeteria and into the hall, where it was quiet. But she didn't stop there. In fact, Callie pulled him across the hall straight toward the girls' bathroom.

Bryson tried to pry her fingers from his arm. "Callie, stop-"

She pushed through the door and let go of his arm. He was standing in the middle of the bathroom, and there was a row of stalls to his right and three sinks to his left. There were two mirrors and the tiles were pink. So this is what the girls' bathroom looks like, he thought. It was less interesting than he imagined. He turned to Callie, who was staring at him with her lips pressed tight. "Why would you drag me in here?" he asked, his voice echoing off the walls.

"There aren't any cameras, and I'm not going in the boys' bathroom," she said quietly. "Continue with your speech."

Bryson didn't feel as angry as he had before. He was simply uncomfortable. But his frustration was still there, along with his exhaustion and little strength. He sighed, his shoulders falling. "I'm angry," he said quietly. "Angry all the time now. Angry at... angry at my mother. I don't even know why. She's just trying to help... she's just trying to help." His face grew hot, and he stared at the pink tiles beneath his feet. "They're making me go to therapy."