Salutations to the Boy Who Made Me then Killed Me

(name may change later) Disclaimer: This is about real people. I didn't make it to offend anyone though so if it DOES insult you, please don't take it personally, and maybe discontinue reading it. This is a Tribute to the ones I give a dam about despite what they may do to me and this is my story. Please take the time to read and review it. I hope you can all relate to it somewhere.

Oh and I'll be posting one chapter at a time, so if the story doesn't get onto the point right away, just bare with me please.

Well of those who know me, some of them have told me I'm an amazing person. They probably only did this because I told them I wanted to die, but if you were as weak as me, and you had my life up to this point, you would probably want to die too. This story of mine is a tribute to it all. I really don't see any significance in my life but maybe you will.

Chapter 1: Grade 5

I've been told that grade 5 doesn't exactly have a point to it. They say that it doesn't have very much, if any, significance to which person you will become later in life. Either I'm incredibly strange or they lie. Grade 5 was the time that my whole train wreck of a life started I think.

I was just an ordinary 5th grader I imagine. My father was a work- aholic and my mother worked in my school. My sister was the only one I could stand in my household. If I had a problem, I would go talk to her. The only problem was, she is younger then me, and at the time was only 7 years old.

My sister was real skinny then, compared to how she is now. I don't mind though, it just means there is more of her to love. She has really dark hair, which will probably get to be as dark as my mom's hair by the time she is 20 or so. Her eyes are the darkest eyes I have ever seen. My alcoholic grandfather (mom's side of the family) calls her brick wall eyes. (we don't believe he has stopped drinking, but he used to go to AA)

My mom is the spitting image of my sister. Her eyes are a little lighter, and her hair is a little darker, but they have the same face, she is just a little bit taller then her. She wears glasses too, like my sister. My sister didn't have glasses up until recently though.

Then there's my father has darker hair then my mom. I think its black but he tells me its brown. He has a moustache, which I've never seen him without it so I assume he's probably had it since high school.

Anyway, enough descriptions; back to the story.

I was probably the ugliest kid in my grade. I was fat, I didn't wear the right brand name clothes, I had glasses and my long blond hair was never just right. It was like a permanent bad hair day no matter how long I brushed it for.

I was in a grade 5 grade 6 split. The grade 5s wouldn't talk to me because the grade 6s made me a constant target. If they would so much as talk to me, they probably would have become targets themselves, and just weren't that stupid I guess. At lunch I got sick of hanging around by myself so I did the stupidest thing anyone could EVER do. You have to give me a break though, I was only in grade 5 and therefore had a brain the size of a peanut. I told my mom.

For one lunch break I went to walk around with my mom at lunch because she told me to. She was a lunch room supervisor, and anyway, when I was around her, nobody would call me names or throw things at me. Other girls at the age of 10 would run to their moms when they were upset too, the only difference was, my mom was always at school. What was I supposed to do? If I didn't go with her for that one lunch hour, she would have gone into that hour spiel about how I don't love her enough.

Anyway, to make a long story short, some of the older kids found out and I was really in for it after that. My life suddenly turned 6 times harder then it had previously been. They would hide my snack around the room somewhere. They would laugh and yell, "why don't you go hang out with your MOM, she's your best friend isn't she?"

Well I never hung out with her at lunch ever again. I have actually grown to hate my mom. I mean, I still love her, because I love everyone, but I strongly dislike her sometimes. She's loud, she swears probably more then I do and she holds grudges for years at a time. She tells me that she gets this from her mother, and I don't doubt her. My grandma is a racist, 2 pack a day smoker, who lives on a farm and spends her days cleaning and baking. She thinks she has the answer for everything (like my mom) and tries to fix things on her own, always making it worse.

Looking on the bright side, at least I met my best friend in grade 5. Her name is Rachel. We didn't get to be really good friends until about grade 6 though. She has dark brown hair and greenish brown eyes. She's obsessed with Ireland, which I think is so cool. We call her the vampiric leprechaun elf. This should give you a clue about how weird my friends are. Anyway, back to the story again.

I had the most annoying teacher in grade 5 too, which didn't make anything any easier. His name was Mr. Wilson. I was in a year round school too, and there were "tracks" which decided whose class you were in and when you had your holidays. Our school didn't run on regular school days. I was in red track, and all the friends I have today, were in blue track. I didn't meet most of them till I left Riverbend Elementary and went on to Fairview Junior High.

Anyway, back to Mr. Wilson. He had a LOT of expectations for us now that I think about it. We were 10 years old and he would demand half an hour of homework a night finished. I did less homework in grade 7 then I did in grade 5 I think.

He wasn't the first teacher to start to favor me over the other kids in the class. I mean, I did nothing to deserve it, but he just decided I was well mannered and that I was a perfect little angel. A lot of teachers that I have been stuck with do this to me too. I absolutely hate it but I don't want to be rude, so I grin and bare it.

Mr. Wilson decided I was a good influence so he put this messed up kid next to me in class when he made our seating plans. His name was Doug McKay. He had been to the Juvenile court a few times because he enjoyed setting buildings on fire. I was often verbally or sexually harassed during the day but there wasn't much I could do. If I told on him, Mr. Wilson just told me to stop being mean to him just because he was different. Well he was different all right.

In fact, all the teachers I talked to told me not to be so rude to him. I assume that they had little meetings in the evenings and discussed all the little juvenile delinquents. My name must have come up a few times if they were discussing Doug and I guess they just decided that they would rather traumatize me for life, then put Doug next to someone more like him. I'm glad it was only for a year and that I haven't talked to him since then. I've seen him though, which is really creepy. In a city as big as the one I live in, you'd think that people would disappear, but they just don't. I'm just glad that I look so different now that he will never recognize me.