See No Evil.

01.

"Mike!"

I looked up to meet my teachers blue eyes. His face was in front of mine. People looked at me. The teacher walked away, and turned to me as he was in front of the class. He was bald. He despised me.

"I don't want to call your parent's, but I will have to at the end of class, and I expect you to stay when the bell rings," He frowned, and turned his back and began to teach the class again.

It was not my fault. None of it. But, telling myself that wouldn't work, I still blamed myself. I looked up, staring at the clock that was ticking.

I can't stop fidgeting. It is a bad habit. I grabbed my eraser, and began to scrape it with my thumb, making a mess on the floor, and my lap.

Ring.

I sat on my desk, looking down at my hands. Students began to pack their things, and leave the class as quick as they can to head home. Some stared at me. They gave me looks as they left. I wa  used to it. I was the attention to everyone. I didn't like it. I didn't like being watched. I didn't liked being given looks. I didn't like being whispered about. I didn't like anyone pointing at me. But the good thing was, no one got up to me and beat me hell up.

Thankfully, I had friends, that stuck with me. I didn't understand why they didn't leave me. I was weird kid, that had fidgeting problem, that drunk, that didn't barely talked when sober, that didn't sleep, that took pills for it.

Maybe because they were somewhat like me.
Same problems, maybe.
Or maybe my looks.

I was good looking, I guess, that's what I've been told by my friends and some people outside of school from kids I didn't know, and strangers that pass by me at a store, by friends on the Internet I made somehow...

I had the brown plain hair, but dyed it once every month or year also messy and wavy, brown eyes, and those eyelashes people seem to want. I am pale, due to my low blood count. I have red, blue bags under my eyes. My cheeks were sometimes pink, only whenever I'm cold or flustered. My lips where thin, but full? Get the idea? They were pink on the inside, fading away, like I just drank a red snow cone, or just had a recent red lollipop. My face was somewhat structured well, I had slight cheekbones and I did have a jawline due to my weight and structure. Seizures that were not passed down to me, and I somehow developed due to health issues and taking pills for them. My body is scrawny looking when wearing clothes, but I still had meat on me. I rarely eat, but I managed to weight 100 pounds. It also didn't help when I'm 5'4" at 18 years old, and close to being underweight.

I guess I looked like a butch lesbian?

A sigh left my lips, and I stood up, grabbing my backpack. I stuffed the eraser on the pocket of my pants, still scrapping it. I walked up to the teacher, that was already on the phone with my parents.

"He's failing some of his classes due to him not concentrating and ditching, I don't know what Mrs. Webber, I think he will have to be held back this year since this school year is almost over..." He spoke, staring at me. He pointed at the chair in front of his desk and told me to take a seat. I did, and was close to slump on the chair.

"Alright, Mrs. Webber. I'll tell him." He hung up, and stared at the computer while he chewed on his blue pen. He licked his lips, and stared at me.

He sighed, and set his pen down, "Mike, you are failing half of your classes. You are not paying attention, you are skipping school or skipping classes. What's wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong..." I muttered, looking down at my hands.

"Nothing is wrong," He muttered back, "I hear that all the time. Answer me, what's going on?"